Open To Interpretation (The Truth)

Iraq .... Compassion

Samar subtly tries to understand his mindset. "How did you come to this idea?
If this world is not to be real and you have seen no proof of God and his angels. How did you conclude this? There must be some levels of concern. Is there or not"?

Riff turns to Samar. Gently grabs her hand. Looks into her eyes, "Certain things can't be faked and or acted out. I was told long ago by Ben, to follow my gut and this is what it's telling me. Will I have questions later? I believe so. But I have to get through things a bit at a time".

Samar wanted to put him at ease. But can't because he has to continue forward. Fighting that fight to the top because there's a bigger picture to all this. A plan is only seen by one. She places her hand on his face. Pulling his head towards her lips gently. To smoothly move in and kiss his forehead. Riff opens his eyes wide. Pulls back calmly, "It was you. Who's the kiss I felt earlier".

Samar gave him a smile and nodded her head. "It was me. The time that you've spent running in this maze, Deserves some affection".

Riff turns his back. Speaking, "I figured I've been doing this for some time myself. That's why I've been taking my time, and not rushing things. That want for everything in the here and now stops. I've learned time is key and the sky's the limit. But not to take too much time because of the recesses of this world. Is by far, more dangerous than I can ever imagine".

Riff turns to Samar to see she's on the floor, knocked out. In one swell swoop, the feeling of a hammer striking across his face knocked him down, like a bag of bricks. Layed out on the ground. Slipping into a dream-like state.

A man hovers over him. Speaking with a cowboy drawl with an English accent, "I am who I am. There's no doubt about that. Father always with his plan. But though I may not agree with how he's enacting things, I do understand why. From what I've gathered. The question is, are you ready for what's to come"?

Samar and Riff are both knocked out cold. As he's laid out. Riff falls into a dream-like state. Shadows form around him, a hazy view of what he sees before him. With a sudden flash of a memory, of being hit by a car. Being thrown through a wall. Trying to grasp, what little breaths of air he can take in and pow. A flash that's sticking. Having an impact on his soul. The origins of the matter. Or is it?

To be continued: