Novel About Afghanistan Novels & Stories

“You told me over lunch that you’re a freelance copy-editor.” “Yep. That is what I said.” “But…” She gestured at his scarred arms, at his scarred neck. “Those look – they look intense. Did you have some kind of accident?” “No.” He poured her a bit more sake, refilled his own glass. “I was in Afghanistan until recently.” “Oh,” she whispered as comprehension began to dawn. “Oh, God. I see.” “I got injured there,” he continued. “And in the last firefight, I got injured badly enough to be sent back home for good.”

"Please go on." Jerald proceeded, explaining how Mostafa had eluded every military force in Afghanistan, growing his criminal empire unchecked. Eventually, the Afghan government sought international assistance to combat the terrorizing drug lord, as his actions were tearing their nation apart. Wealthy families fled the country, seeking refuge in foreign lands. That's when the US Army entered the fray.

"Afghanistan is a war zone Dad, how could you ask me to go with them and why would I?" "You've always been so shallow minded Ryan, don't you see? Now that the Prime Minister has announced that Alexander Sanchez is going off with his surgery team to Afghanistan, the world is gonna love and respect him cause he volunteered to risk his life just to treat others and if he happens to survive that one month there and he returns, just gimme one reason he won't be named the best Neurosurgeon in the world" Dad explained. "I understand what you're trying to say but Alex will definitely not survive cause that place is like a freaking slaughter house and there's no way I am risking my life going near th

Father Ward swallowed. Closed his eyes. And wished desperately he could stop. Wished he could continue as if nothing ever happened, as if he’d never seen that strange dark bus. He wished he’d never met Moe Leck, or heard a voice whispering in the confessional, or found that dead cat . . . But he couldn’t. The memories of a gaping black doorway to a sandstone hovel in Afghanistan wouldn’t let him. So he returned to Google, typed in “Hammon Bale” and clicked SEARCH.

Afrah slowly returned her gaze to her book, while Adnan fidgeted with the strap of his watch. "What are you reading?" he asked after nearly two minutes of absolute silence. Afrah simply raised the book so he could see the cover. "The Ghost?" he smirked. "That is what it says on the cover," she said icily. "Is it good?" "So far," she shrugged. "Has Charlie arrived at Massachusetts yet?" The question caught Afrah off guard, and she looked up at him sharply. "I know," he shrugged. "The caveman reads; shocker." "You've read the book?" she asked, realizing how stupid she sounded. Of course he'd read the book. How else would he know about that?

“Because by then, I couldn’t tell anymore who the enemy actually was. It was a clusterfuck over there, with us killing kids, and kids killing us, and us paying off bombers and terrorists for safe passage to get someplace to take down a village because maybe some guy was there who we wanted dead, but I thought that we also wanted all the fucking bombers and terrorists dead, but instead we were working with them. Giving them hard US currency so they could go out and finance a new attack on American soil. You get me? It wasn’t black and white anymore. Wasn’t clear.” “Yeah.” “So then I started having nightmares,” Ice said slowly. “About – about Christmas. About the last time that I was so comple

It's a raging inferno that consumes my thoughts, leaving nothing but smoldering ashes of despair in its wake. I couldn't get the thoughts of Aurora getting hurt out of head and it scared me, I've never been more scared in my life, not when i faced the fiercest Talibans in Afganistan. The thought of creeping back into my old shell forever. I Can't imagine a life without her, i don't want a life without her. In this labyrinth of torment, time becomes an unyielding adversary. Each passing moment feels like an eternity, stretching my endurance to its limits. I wander through the maze of my emotions, desperately searching for an escape, a glimmer of hope to guide me towards solace.

As I listened there in the back of the Expedition, drifting off to sleep, I found out about another legend that, like the Black-Eyed Kids, turned out to be true. “This isn’t your typical war story,” he began. “It’s something else entirely. I’m about to tell you about the day my skepticism died and my belief in the supernatural was born. “It was 2008, and I was 24, a young lieutenant fresh out of West Point, full of confidence and skepticism. I didn’t believe in ghosts, UFOs, or any of those campfire tales. My world was solid, defined by the hard facts of military life. We were stationed in a remote part of Kandahar, Afghanistan, tasked with searching for a missing patrol. The area was notori

Suzie was still new to the job, although Lizzy doubted she’d last out the month. Had she ever been that juvenile? The last six months affected her in so many ways. Lizzy now felt like a mother hen, especially with Tweedledee and Tweedledum whining behind her. “How hectic is this weather! Aren’t we supposed to be in the Middle East? It’s a desert.” Lizzy turned to Suzie. “You’ll need to get into the habit of researching weather conditions on future flights. Early March is barely spring in Peshawar. It snows in Afghanistan in the winter and we’re east of the border.”

That they will be the ones to pay for the loss they have experienced as a result of their bloody war. Everyone present at the conference agreed to that and sealed it. Afghanis agreed not to ever take such a decision or fight any of the regions in Cerea nation. Afghanis would never go cross the drawn lines by the most powerful nation, Cerea Nation, and will forever stick to that because she is just a small nation compared to Cerea nation, particularly Abasia Kingdom." Jacquard said. "With all that you have just said, are you saying that there is a higher probability that my husband would be among those enslaved by the Afghanis nation? I still feel his heartbeat. My husband is still alive. I b