A Bakharani man in his early thirties sat at a table outside of a cafe by a bustling street of bazaars and camels. In his hand was a mug of coffee, in the other hand was a the daily newspaper. "So this is how peace ends" he said as he read an article about the bombing of a military base by the Jihadists. The Jihadists were an internal terrorist organization that sought to bring down the "immoral" democratic government in Bakhara.
"Hello, Abdul" said a voice. The man at the table turned around to see a police offer approach him. "Oh, hey Hashim. Have you read about the bombing?" Hashim the policeman nodded. "Yes, it seems so. Fortunately, we are a military superpower, so I'm sure those terrorists will be easily beaten." "I guess you're right" said Abdul. "The Jihadists are a new group of religious and ethnic minorities."
With a final sip from the mug, Abdul got up from his table and said farewell to Hashim.
A nasty surprise awaited him that night. He came home only to find it in a mess. There were signs of struggling and a broken vase was all over the floor. "Honey?" he called. No response. He checked all the rooms. Odd, he thought, the children should be home by now. My wife is not here either.
As he entered the bedroom, he found his bed in a mess and the sheets stained with blood. The Jihadists had come and taken his family away.
The next day on the news, the president gave a speech concerning the declaration of war on the terrorists. The war had begun.
