Greetings, Mr. Nguyen. Thank you for reaching out. I’m happy to share my account of the unusual events that unfolded during my time in the Iraq War, specifically as part of a Private Military Corporation.

It all began a few years ago. My role was reconnaissance—binoculars in hand, spotting potential threats while my team handled the heavier tasks. Among us were two notable figures: a squad leader named Weaver and a soldier called Hotel-3.

One mission stands out vividly. From my position, I observed an intense argument between Weaver and Hotel-3. A girl—maybe ten, clutching a strange black wolf doll—was at the center of their conflict. Weaver insisted the girl was part of the insurgents and needed to be neutralized. Hotel-3, however, hesitated, arguing she didn’t fit the profile.

Despite Hotel-3's refusal, Weaver pulled the trigger. The doll hit the ground. The girl collapsed. Hotel-3 dropped to his knees, visibly shaken, before fleeing into the night. From our vantage point, we were left questioning everything. Was the girl truly a threat? Was Weaver a war criminal? And what would happen if command learned of this?

The fallout weighed heavily on all of us, but that was just the beginning.

Later that night, our squad moved into a nearby house. Exhausted and on edge, we scanned the dark interior with night-vision goggles. That’s when we saw it—a shadowy figure with glowing blue eyes and a sorrowful expression, staring directly at us.

Initially, we dismissed it as a trick of the light, but then it reappeared—this time on the staircase. Guns raised, we edged closer, only to find an ordinary bedroom with a single red poppy on the windowsill.

The next night, while stationed at an outpost, the figure returned. This time, it wasn’t alone. Beside it stood a creature, humanoid in shape, with crimson fur and ears that resembled a wolf’s. Its eyes mirrored the sadness of the shadow’s, and its tears glowed the same red hue as the flower.

We tried to assert control—shouting warnings, even raising our weapons—but our guns refused to fire. The creature locked eyes with Hotel-3 for a moment before vanishing into the night. It didn’t harm us, yet its presence left an indelible mark.

What it was—or what it wanted—I can’t say. But after that night, the memories blur into a fog.

Thank you for letting me share this story, Mr. Nguyen. It’s a piece of the past that still haunts me, and I hope this account helps with your project.