Bassim
VIP Member
- Joined
- Mar 1, 2008
- Member Type
- Student or Learner
- Native Language
- Bosnian
- Home Country
- Bosnia Herzegovina
- Current Location
- Sweden
Would you please correct the mistakes in the fourth part of my short story?
I did not know how much time passed before the door opened and the two guards wearing black balaclavas and with pistols strapped to their waists came inside. I could only see their blue eyes, which were impenetrable. Without saying a word, they blindfolded me again and grasped me by my arms. I did not resist or protest. I was transformed into a creature without willpower, ready to do anything what was ordered. We walked what seemed to be long corridors, ascending and descending the stairs until we stopped. I heard the door opened, and they shoved me inside. When they took the blindfold, my eyes squinted at three men in spotless camouflage, without any insignias, sitting at the table. They told me to sit down, which I did. The door behind me clicked shut. The men stared at me as if I were a rare specimen who had fallen into their trap. The room was windowless and, except the tables and the chairs, there was no other furniture.
“Sune Andersson, what have you been doing in the woods?” the man in the middle demanded. He was middle-aged and had pouches under his eyes, as if he had spent many sleepless nights. He spoke Swedish with an accent, although his fair hair probably originated from his Nordic ancestors.
I told him about picking the lingonberries and my dog that had run away, but he was not satisfied with my answers.
“Don’t give me that line!” he raised his voice. “What have you been gathering, Sune?”
I looked at him in disbelief. I didn’t know what to tell him. This must have been a terrible mistake. As I started to repeat what I had said before, the man yelled at me to stop. The lock of his hair fell on his forehead, and he angrily pushed it back with his fingers. His eyes shot me a cold, accusing look.
“What did you do in Russia?”
“I’m a carpenter. I was there with the company I work for. We replaced windows and doors in a large Moscow hotel, hundreds of them.”
“Who did you meet there?”
“I don’t understand the question. I met ordinary people just like myself.”
“Did you meet some women?
“Of course, I did. I had a lot of fun together with them.”
“Who were they? Give me the names of your contacts. You better do that if you want to see your wife and daughters again.”
The two other men who took notes from the beginning now stopped writing and gave the man in the middle a reproachful look, but he seemed to ignore them, glaring at me with the same unvarying anger.
“Those were young women who came to the hotel I stayed at to dance and to enjoy some entertainment.”
“Prostitutes?”
“Not at all. They were women from well-to-do families. Not only did we dance waltz and tango, but they also took me to the theatre and opera.”
My interrogator seemed to have disapproved of this behaviour, as if I as a worker had not deserved to enjoy in highbrow culture, and he shot me a disdainful glance. He seemed to have exhausted himself by questioning me, so his two younger colleagues took over. As soon as I heard they voices, a wave of relief swept over me. They both were Swedes, kind and soft-spoken - their eyes like blue calm lakes. They enquired about my political affiliation, my friends, colleagues and neighbours. There was no aggression, either in their gestures or in voices. They were the opposite of the man in the middle, who, while we spoke, was massaging the knuckles of his hands, as if preparing himself to give me a proper beating when the interrogation by his colleagues was finished.
Then the door opened and I was blindfolded again and led back to my cell. A guard brought in a tray with a bowl of creamy soap, a chunk of bread, a plastic glass of a brown coloured drink which tasted like Coke, only without bubbles, and an orange. I was hungry and devoured everything. The food must have been spiked with some kind of drug because I went to sleep at once.
TO BE CONTINUED
I did not know how much time passed before the door opened and the two guards wearing black balaclavas and with pistols strapped to their waists came inside. I could only see their blue eyes, which were impenetrable. Without saying a word, they blindfolded me again and grasped me by my arms. I did not resist or protest. I was transformed into a creature without willpower, ready to do anything what was ordered. We walked what seemed to be long corridors, ascending and descending the stairs until we stopped. I heard the door opened, and they shoved me inside. When they took the blindfold, my eyes squinted at three men in spotless camouflage, without any insignias, sitting at the table. They told me to sit down, which I did. The door behind me clicked shut. The men stared at me as if I were a rare specimen who had fallen into their trap. The room was windowless and, except the tables and the chairs, there was no other furniture.
“Sune Andersson, what have you been doing in the woods?” the man in the middle demanded. He was middle-aged and had pouches under his eyes, as if he had spent many sleepless nights. He spoke Swedish with an accent, although his fair hair probably originated from his Nordic ancestors.
I told him about picking the lingonberries and my dog that had run away, but he was not satisfied with my answers.
“Don’t give me that line!” he raised his voice. “What have you been gathering, Sune?”
I looked at him in disbelief. I didn’t know what to tell him. This must have been a terrible mistake. As I started to repeat what I had said before, the man yelled at me to stop. The lock of his hair fell on his forehead, and he angrily pushed it back with his fingers. His eyes shot me a cold, accusing look.
“What did you do in Russia?”
“I’m a carpenter. I was there with the company I work for. We replaced windows and doors in a large Moscow hotel, hundreds of them.”
“Who did you meet there?”
“I don’t understand the question. I met ordinary people just like myself.”
“Did you meet some women?
“Of course, I did. I had a lot of fun together with them.”
“Who were they? Give me the names of your contacts. You better do that if you want to see your wife and daughters again.”
The two other men who took notes from the beginning now stopped writing and gave the man in the middle a reproachful look, but he seemed to ignore them, glaring at me with the same unvarying anger.
“Those were young women who came to the hotel I stayed at to dance and to enjoy some entertainment.”
“Prostitutes?”
“Not at all. They were women from well-to-do families. Not only did we dance waltz and tango, but they also took me to the theatre and opera.”
My interrogator seemed to have disapproved of this behaviour, as if I as a worker had not deserved to enjoy in highbrow culture, and he shot me a disdainful glance. He seemed to have exhausted himself by questioning me, so his two younger colleagues took over. As soon as I heard they voices, a wave of relief swept over me. They both were Swedes, kind and soft-spoken - their eyes like blue calm lakes. They enquired about my political affiliation, my friends, colleagues and neighbours. There was no aggression, either in their gestures or in voices. They were the opposite of the man in the middle, who, while we spoke, was massaging the knuckles of his hands, as if preparing himself to give me a proper beating when the interrogation by his colleagues was finished.
Then the door opened and I was blindfolded again and led back to my cell. A guard brought in a tray with a bowl of creamy soap, a chunk of bread, a plastic glass of a brown coloured drink which tasted like Coke, only without bubbles, and an orange. I was hungry and devoured everything. The food must have been spiked with some kind of drug because I went to sleep at once.
TO BE CONTINUED
