Dear myspace friends. My name is Lewis, Im an actor known for my main role in the Oscar nominated movie United 93 (see www.alsamari.net). I am also a producer and author, originally from Iraq, and based in London. I trained as a lawyer and actor in the UK after deserting the Iraqi army under Saddam Hussein's brutal regime, where I was was shot in the leg by my own comrades. I embarked on a grueling journey via the far east on counterfeit documents and finally reached safety in the UK in 1995. I had to do it all over again to get my family to safety. My memoirs have been published as a biography - OUT OF IRAQ - in over 50 countries. Out now in all major stores worldwide (Random House UK). Click on large adjacent image to view on amazon). In the United States, Crown / Random House USA has launched the US hardback version titled - ESCAPE FROM SADDAM - For all Film and TV writers and Producers please submit your work via Tigris productions only: www.tigrisproductions.comThank you for all your great comments! Please note I do read all the emails (eventually), although I get oodles of messages every day and this site only allows a daily limit of around 30 replies so do bare with me - I will respond to you sooner than later! Peace and Strength.
Heroes:
***ESCAPE FROM SADDAM/ OUT OF IRAQ EXTRACT*** AUGUST 1994. THE IRAQI DESERT, SOMEWHERE NEAR THE JORDANIAN BORDER, SEVERAL HOURS BEFORE DAYBREAK:I stood perfectly still and tried to accustom myself to the solitude and the silence.
It took me some minutes to compose myself, but eventually I started to make my way towards the road. Now I was alone my senses became more heightened as I strained my eyes and my ears to judge if any unknown danger was close by. Occasionally I would look back and think that I caught a glimpse of the patrol cars’ headlights; but if I did, they were distant – they would not be able to see me from so far. I could just make out the road from where I was, and there were no patrols ahead; I would be very unlucky to meet anybody now – unless I was forced to fire the Beretta, and as all seemed reasonably silent around me, I determined not to do that.
I soon realised, however, that sounds in the desert could be deceptive. More than once I stopped still because I thought I heard a noise alarmingly close, but I told myself over and over again that it was a faraway sound carried to me by the fickle night breeze. I kept the pace as fast as my wounded leg would allow, keeping my eyes fixed on the occasional light from the road ahead, and I realised that it was not only sounds that could be deceiving, but distances also. Although I had no conception of time, the road did not appear to be getting any closer, and the longer I hurried through that dark expanse, the more unnerving my solitude became. As I walked, I could feel the swab around my bullet wound become wet – clearly the stitches had opened slightly from the movement.
Then, out of the darkness, I heard a sound that immediately stopped me dead. It was not new to my ears – it was unmistakably the same howling that I had heard earlier that evening – but it was shockingly close. I stood perfectly still for some moments, aware only of the trembling whisper of my own heavy breath, before hearing another howl that made the blood stop in my veins. It was as loud as the first, and no less desperate, but it was not its closeness that filled me with a sickening sense of horror, it was the direction from which it came. The first wolf had been somewhere to my right, the second to my left.
I have never known fear like it. A cold wave of dread crashed over me; I felt nauseous and all the strength seemed to sap from my body. I know I should have fired my gun in the air, but in that minute some other impulse took over, an impulse that forced any faculty of reason from my head and replaced it with blind panic. Foolishly, I ran.
I could never have outrun them. They were lean, desperate and hungry; this was their territory. I was limping and terrified. The more noise I made, the more I attracted their attention. I became aware of other animals around me – I don’t know how many, but it was clear they were hunting as a pack, and I was their quarry. Blinded by my tears, I stumbled, and their baying became more frenzied.
Then, as if by some prearranged signal, the pack fell silent …
