11. Realism

He knew not where he was, or for how long he had been there. The rope that tightly bound his hands behind the chair was digging into his already raw wrists with every tug and tussle that he made in effort to break free from his bondage.

“I know you know where the rest of the explosives are” the soldier said to him.

“You can keep playing coy with us as long as you want, but we’re going to find out where the bombs are sooner or later, one way or another.”

He knew that the soldier was more than just a grunt, his insignias told him that much. Upon deducing this piece of information he hoped that he could reason with man, but just as he went to open his mouth to plead for his freedom the shock coursed through his body again.

Khadim remembered it all. He was standing on the sidewalk waiting on the 4 o’ clock bus when the ground shook beneath him. He awoke about a minute later with intense ringing in his ears, as he raised he saw the destruction of the checkpoint about 20 yards from him. A lone rifle lay on the ground; bent wildly out of shape from the force of the blast. Chaos ensued for about 20 minutes. Khadim waited for another blast to occur, as they usually come in pairs, but one never came.

Instead, four Humvees emerged on the scene. Twelve American soldiers came out and one of them who knew Arabic announced to the crowd of the injured and confused that they were securing the area until Iraqi Security Forces and the medics arrived. One of the soldiers immediately saw me, Khadim waived the solider to come over, and he did. But instead of helping the woman who was bleeding profusely from her arm the soldier rifle butted him right in the nose and once more Khadim fell out of consciousness.

The jolt of electricity to his back had triggered the flashback. He remembered now that this was the third time he had been tased during the interrogation. As Khadim raised his head slowly, in agonizing pain, he saw that the solider that was of higher rank than the others in the room was speaking with yet a higher ranked army official. This one was Iraqi. He seemed to be yelling at the American, but Khadim couldn’t make out any of their words. Finally, the Iraqi left the room and a man from behind Khadim untied him from the chair. The officer said get him out of my sight. And with that Khadim was dumped outside of the compound a free, but badly battered innocent man.

I believe that my writing is an accurate representation of realism due to its highly descriptive nature:

"Khadim remembered it all. He was standing on the sidewalk waiting on the 4 o’ clock bus when the ground shook beneath him. He awoke about a minute later with intense ringing in his ears, as he raised he saw the destruction of the checkpoint about 20 yards from him. A lone rifle lay on the ground; bent wildly out of shape from the force of the blast. Chaos ensued for about 20 minutes. Khadim waited for another blast to occur, as they usually come in pairs, but one never came."
And its addressing of the problem of American forces torturing innocent Iraqis in the war on terror:

"The jolt of electricity to his back had triggered the flashback. He remembered now that this was the third time he had been tased during the interrogation. As Khadim raised his head slowly, in agonizing pain, he saw that the solider that was of higher rank than the others in the room was speaking with yet a higher ranked army official. This one was Iraqi. He seemed to be yelling at the American, but Khadim couldn’t make out any of their words. Finally, the Iraqi left the room and a man from behind Khadim untied him from the chair. The officer said get him out of my sight. And with that Khadim was dumped outside of the compound a free, but badly battered innocent man."