"I hate religion." "Why?" "Because when I was a kid I saw it destroy my country." . . .
We saw armed soldiers standing in front of the large auditorium. As soon as we were all in place, one of them yelled, "Attention!" He reached into his pocket, pulled out a sheet of paper, and read three names aloud. My sister and I were on the list. . . . The soldier who read our names returned the piece of paper to his pocket, and with the same hand pulled his pistol out of the holster. He took a step toward me and leveled the gun at my forehead. All I could see was the underside of his starched shirtsleeve running from wrist to elbow. The pistol hovered inches from my skull, smelling of machine oil and gunpowder. After a couple of seconds, the barrel started to shake. I lifted my eyes and looked into the eyes of the soldier. He looked terrified. I was terrified. Everyone was terrified. The only thing scarier than a man with a gun in his hand is a man who looks unstable enough to use it."
The author David Nasser is an Iranian exile and former muslim.
Pages: 171 (hardcover)