Inside The Mind of a Suicide Bomber

[Nicola Lea]

INSIDE THE MIND OF A SUICIDE BOMBER

I sat in the posh, first class compartment of my Qantas flight. I felt nervous and flushed at the prospect of what lay ahead. I hardened my heart against all those unwanted emotions that were flowing through me so naturally. I had a job to do. These people had discriminated against my leader and my country; it was my job, my honour to take his revenge. Wait, what reason did I have for obeying him? Did I even know who he was? Or where he was situated? No! He had taken me in as a child and gave me all the training I needed to survive on my own- well at least one of his associates had. Now he needed me to do a job for him.

I was aroused from my thoughts as the plane started to descend. I wrung my fingers anxiously in my lap. My time was running out. My mind turned to the bomb strapped to my stomach. Was I really doing the right thing? I checked my watch. Twenty minutes. What was I going to do with the last twenty minutes of my life? A normal person would have been saying an emotional good-bye to their family. My leader was my father now, and my comrades my brothers and sisters.

I made my way nervously down the stairs to the place that would soon be nothing but a pile of rubble and bodies. I gently pushed my long hair behind my ear. I made my way towards what seemed to be the centre of the airport. It was a food court. I bought myself a small lemonade from McDonalds and sat, silently brooding, at a table close to a window.

All of a sudden, I started beeping. My watch told me I had thirty seconds. People were looking around in confusion. I was having a moment of panic. What did I think I was doing? I was killing millions of innocent people! All these people were going to die because of me! Thoughts raced through my mind at such a speed that I had no time to consider each one. Could I disable the bomb? There was no time. People were screaming and running for the exits. An alarm sounded throughout the entire building. I stood up, unfazed as there was nothing I could do to stop the tragedy I had brought on the families of these people. There was a blinding flash of light and an incredible noise before I felt my body being ripped to pieces. The pain of the blast was mind numbing. My spirit seemed to linger and watch the devastation I had caused before slipping into blissful and final nothingness...

[thoth]

Hi Nicola,
This is this the first one of yours I am reading. I can't nit your style or clarity of writing, the story is imaginative concise and well told with good grammar. In fact it is very entertaining

Where I have a problem is with the authenticity of the story itself. It comes over completely false, from someone's  - a suburban, educated and rational perspective.

The task you set yourself here is almost impossible to do convincingly. How can any of us know what goes through the mind of such a person? How can we know what it is like to die in any prescribed manner?

An old artist once told me never to paint a vista of a place where one has never actually been. It will fail because the spirit and emotions are missing. It is the same for verse, if you have no direct experience of something, better leave the subject alone.

As a soldier I tend to see right through poems of war written by someone whom war has never touched. As an African it is easy for me to discern those scripts of my homeland written by an outsider. Likewise I would never dare write for example about the life in New York even though I have watched umpteen movies set there.

Having fought terrorism for much of my life I do have a vague idea of how it works on peoples minds and this is not such a mind and nor do the technical details fit. It is a dramatized snippet from a movie scene. What is odd is the cultural gap between the narrator and the real mind-washed terrorist usually from a uneducated background and having a completely warped irrational  outlook.

So take the advise of the old painter and either research well beforehand to know your subject intimately or pass it by. Poetry comes unbidden from the soul not from a decision to write on a chosen topic.

Please don't take this as condemnation Nicola (I have a daughter named Nicola too) only observations from my own point of view which you may use or lose as you wish.

Any writing is better than not writing at all and I shall be looking forward to reading more of your work.  It is simply saying;  write from your heart and you will not go wrong.
Hugs, Wally

[Nicola Lea]

Wally,
Thanks so much for your advice. I am flattered that you would take the time to write such a detailed response to my work. I think your response is actually longer than the story.

I wrote this piece a long time ago and it was nice to bring it out now and look at it with fresh eyes. It was especially good to see what people like yourself have to say.

I especially love this comment: Poetry comes unbidden from the soul not from a decision to write on a chosen topic.

I think that it will stick with me for a long time. Wow, even in comment writing, you write beautifully.

Thank you so much for your input. It is wonderful to see it throught a new perspective.

Say hello to your daughter for me. You named her well.

hugs, Nicola

[jeannerené]

Nicola,

I will agree with Wally's advice to you... which he has so eloquently expressed.

I checked your profile to have a look at your age, and finding that you are 15 I was immediately impressed both by your writing ability and your choice of subject. Let me say to you that I hope you will continue to pursue your writing talents, which I have no doubt will continue to flourish and mature.

My only other thought upon approaching such a subject as inside the mind of a terrorist ......... is to write of it from a first person perspective ... not as the terrorist of course, but as you trying to comprehend acts of terror as a distant observer. I say "distant" ... because unless we've lived it ... been up close and personal with such horrors .... then that is all we can claim to be. I do believe such subjects can be approached from that point of view with poignant and emotionally charged thought.

I look forward to reading more....

.jeanne.

[thoth]

Yes, jean is right, it could be explored more safely from another perspective.

Wow, I figured you were young but for 15 this is very mature prose indeed! At your age I had difficulty using a pen so GO girl!
Hugs, Wally