Asieh and I were both shot by al-Maliki thugs in Ashraf

It was near noon, April 8, 2011 that I felt the heat of that bullet going into me. Before me, it was Asieh. My lovely, brave and always funny and lively Asieh. She was a journalist and camera woman and always enjoyed taking shots at live events.

That morning the event was too much alive, and swarmed with live ammunition aimed at us.

She was bravely taking films of the brutes that so vilely took advantage of our state of being unarmed and cowardly fired into us. She kept on shouting with much shock:
“They are using live ammunition!!”

I was not very far from her and tried to focus on the fat lieutenant who was the marksman, choosing his victim, then tracing her or him and finally aiming and shooting at the prey. I saw him, sometimes sitting on his knee to focus better in killing us, sometimes did not care to sit but just shot into us indiscriminately. Some times he would point at one of us and with a touch of his finger sliding from left to right on his throat would in a way tell us: “You are Dead.. Finished”.

I just could not help but stand up and shout back with my fists as clenched as could be: “Your Khamenie is finished not us... He has been finished since the day he began killing a generation of our people... He died when he swore to stay in power at all cost... And he died when he though he could finish us the last time you attacked at Ashraf…He has no legacy and no future. The future is definitely for our people and we shall over come!”

I was so resolved to show his likes that we never give up our resistance against the mullahs, against the butchers in Iran who kill under the name of Islam and religion and who have lied for more than 3 decades to the world and our people. I suppose I was far too occupied when Asieh who was filming the beast jumped over to my side and pulled me down just in time.

There was a shower of live ammunition slithering across and around us, hitting the ground and reflecting back at times hitting us with splinters.

“Are you out of your mind?” “He was aiming at you. Be careful!” I shrug my shoulders and smiled and said; “The beast thinks that we are little sheep with brain washed minds that will cluster back when he starts his show. It’s about time that we show them, that we are intelligent, freethinking, lively, active and responsible beings who have decided to fight with our bear hands and defend Ashraf. The symbol of hope for change in our homeland Iran”…

Asieh crawled towards the pile of earth near the road going towards the Tulips round about , where the aggressors had organised a line of fire as if ready to execute every one of us. I shouted “Asieh sit down.. SIT DOWN!! He is aiming at you now!!”.

But Asieh was too worried for our commander that we all loved so dearly and who was jumping to aid one of our girls who had been hit and fallen on the asphalts. Asieh kept shouting and running with her camera clinging on her arms and hand: “Pari.. Get down .. PAriii get down..” . Then she fell. I became hot. It was as if I was hit by a bullet and was pierced. Oh no.! It was not I who was hit, but my lovely, beautiful. Lively Asieh who was so caring and brave. I wish it was me that was hit and not her.

The fat beast had finally found his prey and shot Asieh.