"THE BEGINNING WAS A STRANGE SORCERY"
First Person Singular
It was a nice day. I had woke up at six a.m., after a long time I had listened to the morning azan(1) during the silence of daybreak. I do not know why, but the morning azan has always moved me. Maybe it is because noices of the whole city melt at these hours, for it seems to me like a dervish who walks in the trace of lost time will come up and will keep this silence forever. He is the gummy smell of fresh exiles of weeping willow that spreads through my open window into my room. He would never leave my room and fervent times of spring would last forever.
It was a nice day, but it was as if I was going to death. I was preying on my mind and I really needed this job. I could only sleep for three hours. If you can call it sleep.
I have odd believes, at times left from my nightmares, in my dreams, if I am too obsessed of them, I can see visions releated to the next day. If those visions are bad, it means I can be happy. If they are good, then the situation is bad.
This is something remaining from my childhood. Whenever I found marbles in my dream, I lost them the very next day.
That day was a nice day, I remember. I had changed three buses, had asked the address at least ten or fifteen people and finally I could find my way. It was far away, but never mind. After all, business is business. But when I got in front of the screen…As if I was frozen… That was my last chance. But I lost it. I wish I had watched my step…
I wish I had melted at that moment. Or if only I could fire those moments away that they are never inside my life again. Yes, "I looked like a good person, they believed I could adapt in a short time, but they were sorry, because they needed a professional." That is all. Moreover, they say that "Men do not cry". I had a shelter even though I had rented after so many unforeseen dangers and now I am about to lose it. What else?
No, no, I should have listened to my father. My job was ready in every situation.
What should I have to do to start a nice day? Come on, you say something. It is like a jigsaw puzzle. And because of this, I stay at home. If it is easy, let them come here. Nobody can take me out of my house, okay?
Well, okay I will go out in a while. But not for seeing one of these monkey-faced men, my wife has called me just a moment ago. From my mobile phone. Biber is lost. Our dog.
Yes, today is a nice day I will go outside…
It was a nice day, but it was as if you were going to death. You had been bad-tempered all night. You looked as if you wanted to make no compromises. Well, you were ready for even the worst occasion to happen. But your steps were like clumsy bounces. You were constantly jumping from your seat as if something stung you. You only pretended watching TV. I noticed that. Your knees were shaking. At any cost you did not want to step outside. You do not like mirrors, I know that. But that morning you were looking at it… You gazed at the image across you. I wish I could read your feelings, too. But start from somewhere anyway.
Second Person Singular
Now, stop, let's try to remember. It was an abandoned house, at the top of a bone-dry redwood. You were waggling with the tree. And the only place to hang on was the roof of the abandoned house. Whenever the tree that the wind blowed upon pushed you towards home, you tried to hold on eaves, but whatever the part of the house you held, you came back with a piece in your hands.
While trying to recall where we stopped, now I remembered:
You were recalling what you saw in your dreams. Your odd beliefs about your dreams. Maybe because of that, you were looking at the mirror. Helplessly you would go out. Your wife had called. From mobile phone. Biber had been lost. Your dog…
Yes, this is a nice day and you will go out.
It was a nice day, but it was as if he were going to death. Actually troubles started to fall some days ago. He could never ever enjoy the job he did anymore. He was so willing at the beginning. The beginning was a strange sorcery. But he could not make use of it. Albeit he behaved devotedly. However, he lost the opportunity. He made many mistakes. He suffered from much inexperience. And in appearance he had to go through the mill. So to say, like an egg. On the medium heat.
Third Person Singular
The ashtray had filled with butts although it was only morning. He had swored. He would not go out. They might be waiting in front of the house. If there was something to be suspected his wife would let him know. Nevertheless it is also her house.
Sometimes he had weird beliefs which astonished him. First, "a man enough" would never violate an oath. In fact, it was just a new form of making promises to himself. For instance, in the primary school he was studying only for learning, not because he would be under pressure from his family. Then, too, he had an oath. He had to help his father as his eldest son. But he had made an oath, if he could go to the secondary school, he would give all his marbles to his brother. In the summer, he had put them away in the attic. After all, his brother could not play with them before the school started netiher. All the children in the village would help their families in the summer. He knew that at least from himself.
There he was without saying goodbye. After all, his father gave pocket-money to his brother. So he could also buy himself some. He actually did not give money to any of them. He was a good player. He would play ten by ten. He could take at least ten of them out of the triangle. He had already won them. He could give away none of his capricious marbles that he took out from his can and laid in front of himself.
Then everything went worst. Because of the marbles in his pockets, he was the mockery of everybody, while his friends were waiting in front of the doors and pinching some parts of their
girlfriends. He could hardly finish the secondary school. The highschool was a fiasco. And he studied at the university until the second year.
He could not violate his oath. How an oblation must be performed, an oath should not be violated. One month ago at most recent. Fifteenth person whom he was interviewed by also said the same thing. He had no hope left anymore. He was almost losing his home. No, he could not go out. Now, how had this Biber matter ocurred? Their dog… Its first owner had named it like this.
His wife called him. From his mobile phone. She went to a stone's throw away, to the bakery. Churlish children… While his wife was busy, the dog took occasion and ran away, being scared of concerns of children. It had to be found.
It was a nice day. At first Biber had to be found and then at the expense of violating the oath, he would go to the sixteenth interview.
A nice day had started outside. It did not have a sequel.
(1) Azan: The Islamic call to prayer, called by the muezzin five times a day from a mosque's minaret.
* Kül Öykü, Mayıs-Haziran 2003
» You can read the story in Turkish from http://www.mavimelek.com/kabus.htm