Sitting in the back of that Hummer, my head in a hood, my hands lashed behind my back, lurching back and forth while the bruises swelled up on my head, terrorism suddenly felt a lot riskier.
I stumbled some, then a hand pushed my head down and I was inside the Hummer.
I heard them shouting through the muffling canvas of the bag, and then I was being impersonally hauled to my feet by my wrists, my arms wrenched up behind my back, my shoulders screaming.
You cannot make a man by standing a sheep on its hind legs. But by standing a flock of sheep in that position you can make a crowd of men.
How we treasure (and admire) the people who acknowledge us!
The car skidded to a stop just in front of me, and I jumped back and lost my balance and ended up on the road.
I was as scared as I'd ever been. There was screaming everywhere now, and more bodies on the floor, and the press from behind was as relentless as a bulldozer. It was all I could do to keep on my feet.
Hope is tomorrow's veneer over today's disappointment.
Vigorous writing is concise.