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Unforgivable
“Helin was still standing there, hesitant by the look of her face. When her father looked out of the compartment window he saw her. “What are you standing around there for, come here now!” he yelled. Then he said something in Kurdish to the girl’s mother in the same tone of voice. The woman leaped up and ran to the door. Helin jumped like she had been woken up from her daydream and obeyed immediately. Without even looking back she jumped onto the carriage and went to the compartment with her mother. The engine driver blew the train’s sharp whistle one more time. The old locomotive seemed to shake and started moving slowly, pouring white smoke from its smokestack left and right, before it built up speed and went on its way.”
In the Shadow of the Past
Up until today I’ve written ten storybooks, and I’ve tried to tell the stories of my fellow countrymen. Their feelings, their joy, their mirth, their serenity and anger, their love, their pain and even their ridiculousness. Sometimes I went as far as to be sarcastic about them. ‘In the Shadow of the Past’ is my newest book, which is why it has a special place in my heart. Although, not that far from the others. Merciless neighbors, disloyal, selfish old friends, money and power hungry women who cheat on their husbands, the lack of justice for even the simplest things, brave and bold young men, and couples that waste their lives on being stubborn: all in the shadow of the past! Erkut Demirel
The Angler Of The Quiet Coast
Memoirs by Erkut Demirel.
Five Kurus
In the steppes of Central Asia there are obelisks that belonged to the Gokturks, and on them texts written in ancient Turkish. In one script the Khan says to the future generation, "You Turk, you don't know the value of being full. But when you're full you won't think about when you were hungry!" These words are carried through the generations, but not just for us! I believe all of humanity must think of these words.
The Island Snappers
They say that people feed off of one another but this isn’t wholly true. As long as we face the difficulties of living a free, honorable life respectful to nature; then unity is certainly possible. We can only achieve this dream if we put away our prejudice without fooling ourselves. We need to fight to get what we deserve for our hard work.
Secondhand Man
Starting with my childhood, and throughout my entire life, Istanbul provided me with a rich and broad understanding of storytelling… witnessed skyscrapers being raised to the skies around the glorious historical areas… yet ironically, I also watched those skyscrapers being surrounded by jerry-built tenements. I sadly watched the spectacular fabric of this city getting more and more polluted over time, including its green hills… also pillaged and destroyed its beautiful woodlands in a blink of an eye! I don’t believe any other populace in any other place has been as inattentive or negligent as Istanbul. I wrote over hundred stories by using a plain, natural, and in straightforward narrative style. Objectively, to the best of my abilities, I tried portraying the people of Istanbul; who are neither urban nor are rustic folks, but a mixture of both in their truest forms.
The Wristwatch
To tell you the truth; no matter what part of this earth we live in and no matter how different our languages, cultures, economic situations or even our beliefs, we all share the same human emotions and thoughts. Anger, aggression, resentment, hatred, vengeance, hypocrisy, prejudice and intolerance! But we also have love, compassion, honor and family ties. This list could be extended so much more. This book contains but a few from the millions of these types of stories that have defined the journey of humanity for thousands of years.
A Matter of Honour
Starting with my childhood, and throughout my entire life, Istanbul provided me with a rich and broad understanding of storytelling… witnessed skyscrapers being raised to the skies around the glorious historical areas… yet ironically, I also watched those skyscrapers being surrounded by jerry-built tenements. I sadly watched the spectacular fabric of this city getting more and more polluted over time, including its green hills… also pillaged and destroyed its beautiful woodlands in a blink of an eye! I don’t believe any other populace in any other place has been as inattentive or negligent as Istanbul. I wrote over hundred stories by using a plain, natural, and in straightforward narrative style. Objectively, to the best of my abilities, I tried portraying the people of Istanbul; who are neither urban nor are rustic folks, but a mixture of both in their truest forms.
Undesirable
Everyone has a story to tell, certainly! Isn’t life itself a short story that blows by as fast as the wind? When a friend asked the wise old man, who lived at the foot of the Taurus mountains what he knew of this world, the man responded, “I rode a horse at full gallop from under the shadow of that tree over. That’s all!”
The Street
“She stopped when she arrived at the twenty-to-thirty square meter sized small cemetery at the end of the road to Visnezade park where identical buildings lined the street up to that point. Despite the later hour of the day there was still the smell of soot emanating from the extinguished candles. She leaned her walking stick against the wall where the blackened remnants of wax were piled upon, and took out one of the candles wrapped in paper from her pocket. She lit it and affixed it to the soft surface. She said her prayers, and ended it with an amen. Taking her walking stick from where she’d put it, she started walking again.” Nobody puts candles on cemetery walls anymore. You can’t even if you wanted to. They put up iron bars and wire fencing. It smells of soot and the walls have turned black! God forbid, it’s a fire hazard. And so this hundreds of years old custom from the Ottoman Empire has been forgotten.
