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To the girl whose boyfriend I slept with

Hello,

I've heard your name from him, and saw your picture on his lockscreen

You have the prettiest smile I've ever seen

Honestly, I can see why he loves you.

I can see why anyone would have loved you.

Now, let's get to it. Let's stop babbling.

Now you must understand,

We had a certain past with him.

He told me he confessed to you, so you must know already,

Unresolved issues. He loves you and you only. It was only physical- he wouldn't have done with another girl.

At least, that's what I've heard.

But then, he must have spat the same nonsense at you that any men would have told to any girl they have ever cheated on.

Now you must understand me,

Well, we had a past, and I hoped for a future.

Desperation makes you do things, though I hate to admit this.

I cried and prayed to a god I didn't believe in

Punched holes in my pillows and picked my skin

Also, he was the first to lean in

You have to understand- no. You don't have to understand a single of these excuses I lay in front of you.

I know what I did. I knew what I was doing back then.

But forgive me,

If I had seen how you smiled when you were around him,

I would have kept my hands to myself.

Or better yet, punched him on the stomach when he first leant in.

Now things escalated a bit too quickly.

I'm sorry if I made you cry. It is my fault- not entirely maybe, but it is my fault. I own it.

You did nothing wrong. I'm sorry if I ever made you question it.

If you ever looked at the mirror for hours at a time, wondering what you could have done differently, well, nothing.

If you ever wondered what you should have changed about yourself, well, nothing.

You are pretty, and you are enough, and I promise you, you are loved.

You didn't deserve it. This didn't happen because you deserved it to happen. It happened because we were horrible people for a summer week.

If you ever screamed your lungs out, asking, "Why?" well, this is why.

And I hate to think if I wiped that smile off of your face.

I hate to think I am the reason you pick at your face in your sleep

I hate to think you blame yourself for a fault of mine. I knew better. You couldn't have done anything better.

I'm sorry if I ever caused you misery.

You know, I haven't told my friends about this.

Or my mother. Or my brother. This will rot pieces of my heart till the end of my life.

I hope you had a shoulder to cry on, though. I hope your friends cussed both of us out, and you fantasised about poisoning my meals.

I hope your mother at least silently cooked for you and put her hand on your shoulder as you sobbed. I hope your father was there to say he wasn't good enough for you anyways

Now I'll have one wish from you,

If I'm not asking for too much.

If you ever decide to forgive him, please forgive me too.

Let me off with a hand gesture, condescending maybe,

But free me.

After all, need I remind you?

He was the first to lean in

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There was something on my plate

I ate it. It had a weird texture, but it's alright. I was starving.

It is gone now. I made sure. There is not a single drop of blood left on the plate, it was clean as a mirror, I know because I licked it clean. I relished every single bit of that meat, with an extreme appetite. I enjoyed it so well you'd be jealous.

I think i might have been caught a glance at it. I believe it was a piece of meat, or to be more specific, it was, I think, a heart. It was raw, too, dripping blood. Felt weird on my teeth - hard to bite into - but glided smoothly on my tongue. Doesn't matter now.

Though, with how it was pulsating desperately on my tongue,

I think it might have been still alive.

Now that I had an appetite for more, I began lurking. I shall search. It was delightful to eat and delicious to my tongue, I shall find. I shall find more. I followed, i followed to find more, my feet moved. I went through the forest. I saw trees with hollow insides, and my hands reached into the bodies of animals that ran away before I could catch. I was hungry for more of what I had. I must have more, I must have more- I kept looking, listening, smelling.

There I saw a rabbit. Small and shaky, injured too. It couldn't run away. It couldn't have done anything. It was harmless. My hands reached naturally in between its front legs. The ribs I cracked open, with the wind blowing into my ear, sounded like a symphony. I didn't put it out of misery quickly. It couldn't have done anything anyway. I watched the blood flow, making a little pool of warm, red liquid- which I watched the soil devour with as much of an appetence as me. Though,

I would have preferred a heart still beating.

Thus, I kept on searching. For the same taste, the same sensation, I craved it so badly. The forest was hiding its gems from me. What I couldn't reach was what I craved the most. What I desired the most. My tongue aching for the blood, my hands aching to pull open the heart. I kept on searching.

There I found a deer. It was fast, but I was the wind. I was everywhere. I was what it couldn't escape. I was destiny, playing my little tricks and ripping out what belonged to others. I was greedy, I was ravenous. Voracious. This time I reached with my teeth. This time I was quick, quicker than the soil. Quicker than the deer, quicker than the wind. I had consumed, no, demolished the being between my own heartbeats. I craved more, and I craved the speed. Poor deer was waiting to die on the ground, its eyes open. The dirt welcomed the rest of its body. I had licked the blood clean off of its chest.

Civility, now that was what I wanted. My teeth red and my jaw dripping I had decided. I should leave, I needed a plate and I should leave. I should have left earlier, a fork and a knife, when I had the change. But the forest, it had way too much to offer. Way too many beats to rest upon my tongue. One too many last breaths I desired to feel. Civility, my heart ached. A napkin. A hand and another hand, a heart and another heart. I cried for a hand. The hand did not reach. I searched.

There I was, on my table. Sitting around it. There was a hand, a hand in my hand. The hand reached. The hand reached, I cried. My plate was clean, I licked it clean, I licked it clean. The hand reached, so did mine. I had not cracked any ribs this time. My hands fell, naturally, on a heart. My lips fell on lips and my tongue on a tongue. I was there. I had a heart. I had a heart, a beating, real one, and it was mine.There I caressed the heart. I loved it, I kissed it. I felt how it throbbed on my lips. It was mine. It beated in my hands, and blood dripped from my arms. I felt lips on my neck and arms around my waist.

Then, there it came. I felt my heart, my own heart. It was beating, away from my chest. With each pulse, its walls hit the hands of someone else. My heart, my own heart was no longer mine. I felt teeth on my chest, so I bit into the heart I was holding. My heart, my own heart ached. I didn't care- I loved how it felt on my lips. My tongue. In my mouth. Poor man, for he couldn't even scream. Didn't make the slightest noise. I eat mine, my own heart, before he could eat his.

Greed came over me. I knew it was greed. It was what made me eat. It was gluttony, and lust for blood. It was what I deserved. It was what I should have done. From the beginning. I should have done it in the beginning. I stared outside. The clouds took the shape of a bunny-my bunny. I was the clouds. I was the wind, I was destiny. I could not escape me. There reached my hands, inside. I had accepted my fate, I felt the cracking of some ribs. I had accepted myself. My hands brought out a heart from deep within my chest. I was destiny, I was the wind. I was god. I caught a glimpse of what I was eating, no, I saw it. I watched it. It dripped, and I caught the blood. It beat, I bit. It hurt to bite, it hurt to beat. That, I craved. That, I desired. I swallowed a piece, I swallowed the piece. I devoured what I was meant to.

I was fate. I was god. I was the wind. And once again inside me, there kept my heart beating. Now soil, may the soil accept me. May the soil swallow me.

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Gündüzleri havanın yeni yeni aydınlandığı saatlerde, deniz henüz durgun ve gökyüzü berrakken ufka doğru bakarsanız, belli belirsiz bir siluet görebilirsiniz uçsuz bucaksız maviliğin arasında. Benim siluetimdir o. Güneş kendini gösterene kadar her gün birkaç dakika dolaşırım denizlerin üzerinde, başka kimse gözünü açmamışken açık denizlere ağlarını atan balıkçıları izlerim. Görürseniz beni, korkmanıza gerek yok, zaten ayırt edemezsiniz uykulu, mahmur gözlerinizle. Yaz sabahlarının hayaletiyim ben, balıkları selamlamaya kalkarım, son bir kez güzel sözler söylemeye onlara, balıkçılar onları sudan çekip almadan. Sünger avcılarını arar gözlerim denizin dibinde, vurgun yemekten ağrımıştır zavallı kalbim- dalgıçların ağrısını, balıkların haykırışlarını, balıkçıların sevincini duyarım yüreğimde. Su yüzeyinin hafif kızıllığının rengini alır ayaklarım, sabahın sükuneti hiç rahatsız olmaz benden. Kuşlar bile görmez beni, sessiz sessiz, ama çok uzaktan, ötüşürler. Her sabah, denizin üstüne gelir hayaletim, ben bir balıkçıyı ararım. Vurgun yemiş, elinde zıpkınıyla denizin dibine vurmuş, balıklara yem olmuş bir balıkçının kemiklerini ararım. Aşağılara, güneş ışığının inemediği derinliklere bakarım, bakarım, bakarım.

Kışları gece sinsi sinsi indikten sonra üstünüze, karsız, yaĝmursuz, ışıksız, buz kesmiş havayı yaran tiz bir ses duyarsanız belli belirsiz, benim sesimdir o. Tüm geceyi kaplar sesim, dinlerseniz, belki arabaların gürültülerinin ve başları eğik, elleri ceplerinde yürüyen kırmızı burunlu insanların ayak seslerinin arasında benim çığlığımı da duyarsınız- korkmayın. Kuşlar uykudadır, zavallı hayvanlar soğuktan donmuştur. Ben gece bağırırım, sesimi duyurmaya çalışırım. Buz kesmiş kaldırımlarda kayanları görürüm, "Tak!" diye vururlar taşlara. Kalın, kışlık kumaşlar birbirlerine sürter, ayaklar yerlere birer asker edasıyla çarpar. Kemikleri zangır zangır titrer insanların. Dikkatli dinlerseniz, bütün bu seslerin arasında sesimi duyarsınız. Gece çöktükten sonra omuzlarınıza, hayaletim musallattır karanlığa, ben çaresizce seslenirim. Sesimi duyarsa diye seslenirim. Çocuklarını o gün okula bırakmış, bir daha da gelip alamamış bir babanın yere damlayan kanına seslenirim, seslenirim, seslenirim. Gecenin içinde boğulur sesim.

Beni çok ararsanız, ilkbaharda, kuzuların yeni yeni doğdukları ilkyaz aylarında, çiçekli, çimenli, verimli çayırlarda da bulursunuz. Rüzgar eser geçerken okşayıverirse elinizi, bilin ki tenim kaynaşmıştır karayelin arasına. Saçınızı şöyle bir karıştırmış, bozuvermiş de geçmişimdir, koyunlar melerken gerdanlarını sevmişimdir. Kuzular hisseder beni, bana bakar da göremez, meler zavallıcıklar ne yapsınlar, siz ise hissetmezsiniz bile size rüzgardan da zayıf dokunan hayaletimi. Zavallı tenleriniz bir ürperir, tüyleriniz hiç yoktan diken diken olursa ilkyazın yakıcı güneşinin altında, belki o zaman anlarsınız size değenin hiçliğin bir parçası olmadığını; yüreğinize değerse mosmor olmuş dudaklarım belki fark edersiniz etrafınızda dolaştığımı. Buz kesmiş parmak uçlarım çimenlere sürtünür ümitsizce. Evim dediğim dünyanın güzel çayırlarında, papatyalar ve gelinciklerin arasında, genç bir çoban ararım. Bir zamanlar beni aramış, ellerimi tutmuş, yüzümü avuçlamış, dudaklarımdan öpmüş, sonra da alabildiğine uzağa kaçmış bir çobanın teninin dokunuşudur aradığım. Ellerim uzanır, arkanızdan belli belirsiz dokunursa korkmayın; kollarım onu bulana kadar uzanır, uzanır, uzanır.

Yediğiniz en güzel yemek hangisiydi? Ben annemin yaptığı yaz menemeninin üstüne tanımam. Konservelik, kokulu domatesler, taze toplanmış mis gibi yeşil biberle soğan, kümesten koşa koşa getirdiğim yumurtalar... Evin ocağında yanan dalların kokusu sinmiştir üstüne ve isin eşsiz lezzeti işlemiştir yemeğe. Annem, kardeşlerim, babam, iştahla ekmeği banar banar yeriz, sofraya bile oturmadan. Beni böyle güzel bir günde, güzel bir sofrada bulamazsınız. Hayaletim özenle pişirilmiş, iştahla yenmiş yemeklerin, sevgi dolu sofraların etrafında dolaşmaz. Yedirmez bunu kendine. Kendinin olmayan bir bedeni iştahla tüketmiş, koca bir adamı arar onun yerine. Dolaşır, dolaşır, ama ölüdür zavallı hayaletim. Anlayamaz kendini öylesine pisboğazlıkla, dakikalar içinde tüketmiş olan görünüşte bilge bir adamı. Anlayamaz, aklı almaz bir insanın nasıl böylesine oburca yalayıp yutulabildiğini, tüm çığlıklarına, itirazlarına rağmen vücudunu ele geçirmenin verdiği hazzı, can acısına kapalı olan gözleri. Acısını anlayamaz, kendi acısını, ademoğlu naıl kıymıştür canına anlayamaz. Hayaletimi bir bedeni diri diri gömmüş bir adamın damağına bulaşmış bulabilirsiniz ancak. Zavallıcık, anlamadığı bir açlığı yaşayan cani bir adamı arar.

Toprağın kokusunu duydunuz mu hiç? Hele de bir de yağmur, bardaktan boşalırcasına yağdıktan sonra, üstünde çimenler bittikten, böcekler gün yüzüne çıktıktan sonra nefis olur dışarısı! Ben toprak kokusunu duydum, çok duydum ağustosun ortasında güneşten kavrulmuş tarladaki toprağın, yoluna çıkan her şeyi yakıp geçmiş güneşin acısını toprakta kokladım. İyi sulanmış bahçelerdeki gübreli toprağın burun, göz, çilt yakan kokusunu ezbere bilirim. Çöplerden akan suları emmiş zavallı ormanların düşen iğne iğne yapraklarla kaplı toprağının kokusunu çektim içime. Öyle kolay kolay ortaya çıkmam ama, arayacak olursanız, toprak kokusundadır hayaletim, zayıfçacık bir hayal gibi benim de kokum karışmıştır toprağa. Koklaya koklaya, insan yüzü görmemiş, zavallı, tuhaf ve korkunç böceklerin kemirdiği bedenimi ararım toprağın altında. Hayaletim bir burundan ibarettir, o koklar, kokladıkça içine ölü hayvanların, mantarların kokuları dolar ciğerlerine. Ben, ben oradayım. Çürümüş bedenim toprağın altında bir yerlerde, kendimi ararım. Bedenimin üstünde çürüdüğü yol kenarını anımsamaya çalışırım ölürken ciğerlerime, oradan da ezberime işlemiş kokusundan.

Siz, toprak kokusunu duymuş olanlar, söylesenize! Toprağın altında, ağzınız tıkalı hiçbir şey duyamazken, üstünüze basıp geçenleri hissetti mi bedeniniz, kemikleriniz kırıldı mı ormanda bir ceset arayan askerlerin postallarıyla? Köklerini ciğerlerinize saldi mı onca ot, sahipsiz köpekler ziyafet çekti mi etinizle? Gözlerinizi yaktı mı üst üste binmiş onca toz, kir, ve ceset parçaları? Yağmuru görmüşsünüzdür, peki bilir misiniz gözyaşlarıyla ıslanmış taze mezar toprağının nasıl koktuğunu? Yüreğiniz belki sevdiğinizin acısıyla dağlanmıştır, benimkini kimin vurduğu belli olmayan bir kurşun dağladı. Sevginin yumuşaklığını hissettiğim ellerim kendi etimin de yumuşaklığını gördü. Şimdi hayaletim, hayaletim arar durur. Çürümüş bedeninin kokusundadır hayaletim, kendinden iğrenir. Gündüzün denizi, geceleyin sokakları arar karış karış. Babasını ve babası gibi onca adamı arar. Geceleri kendini ve kendi gibi onca ölü kadını koklar, kardeşi gibi onca yalnız çocuğa seslenir hayaletim.

Duyan olmaz.

Zavallı hayaletim, arar, arar, arar.

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Ankara manzaraları

Öfkeni diri tut, çünkü unutulan öfke yalnızca zarar verir. Hem sana, hem etrafına, kısa süreli bir zararı olur. Kutuplaştırır, nefreti, korkuyu çağırır, kırar, döker, yalnızca fışkırıp çıkmak ister. Öfkeni diri tut, tut ki aklına tarikat yurtlarında intihara sürüklenen pırıl pırıl gençler gelince duygulanıp geçme. Tut ki, çocuk gelinleri, okuldan zorla alınan kız çocuklarını hatırlayınca "vah vah" diyip devam etme gülmeye hiçbir şey olmamış gibi. Tut ki, asgari ücretin açlık sınırının altında olduğunu hatırlayınca yüreğindeki ateş kor kor olsun, tut ki İstanbul sözleşmesinden nasıl ayrıldığımız aklına geldiğinde ayağa kalk, tut ki Soma'da tekmelenen madenci neyi savunduğunu hatırlatsın sana.

Öfkeni diri tut, tut ki haksızlık yüreğinin derinlerine gömülmesin. Ses çıkar, ses çıkaramayanların adına çıkar. Öfkeni diri tut, ki Konya barınağında canice öldürülen hayvanlar aklına geldikçe git kendi şehrindeki barınaklara bak. Özgecan'ı, Pınar'ı, Münevver'i, Güldünya'yı düşününce şehrindeki kadın dayanışma örgütlerine git, orada bir kadına yardımcı ol, zor durumda kalanlara cesaret ver, elini uzat. Aklına rant için çıkarılan yangınlar gelince yüzüne yüzüne vursun kıvılcımlar, o hararetle ağaçlandırma çalışmalarına katıl. Depremi, tuzla buz olan şehirleri düşünüp ağdalı ağdalı mesajlar paylaşacağına sosyal medyada, şehrine yerleşmiş depremzedeleri bul, ihtiyaçlarını sor. Şehirlerin yeniden inşaasında, kültürün korunmasında görev al. Yardım etmek isteyen kişileri, grupları örgütle, organize et.

Öfkeni diri tut, çünkü öfken diriyken yapabileceğin onlarca faydalı şey var. Bağırıp çağırmaktan, üç gün sonra unutulacak bir protestoya katılmaktan daha büyük olsun yapacağın, kimseye bağırmadan, usul usul, ama öfkeyle. Öfkeni unutmadan. Neden öfkelendiği, neye öfkelendiğini unutmadan. Öfkeleniyor musun? Öyle olsun. Ama bunu şirin şirin konuşmalarla, hiçbir işe yaramayacak bir aktivizimle, sosyal medya paylaşımlarıyla yapma. Hakaret edip içini dökmek sana iyi geliyor olabilir, ancak yaptığın şey yalnızca iki yüzlü bir vicdan mastürbasyonu olmaktan öteye geçmiyor. Geçsin. Yoga yapıp tüm sinirini, stresini çıkartıyor olabilirsin içinden, ama bizim bu sinire ihtiyacımız var.

Harekete geçmeye ihtiyacımız var.

Öfkeye ihtiyacımız var, hatırlamaya ihtiyacımız var.

Öfkeni diri tut.

(Oylar tkp yazısının olayla hiçbir alakası yok, kime istersen oy ver. Vicdanınla, onurunla, öfkenle ver. Harekete geç.)

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Flower pics before spring ends

1-Syringa vulgaris

2- Prunus sp. (likely Prunus domestica)

3- Prunus sp. (likely Prunus domestica L.)

4- Serpias sp.

5- Prunus sp. (likely Prunus amygdalus var. dulcis)

6- thats a bee (Apis mellifica)

7- Malvae sylvesteis

8- Prunus amygdalus (var. dulcis)

Coolest thing university has given me is the ability to identify plants and i feel like a witch each time i look at a plant and go "Oh yes, Malva sylvestris!"

All these plants are common around where I live. They have been embedded into our culture, idioms, cusine, they have created our idea of beauty, what we can create with these plants we have considered delicious, the soil these flowers bloomed we have considered sacred, we have given them names and then named our children after them. We made up stories about them and believed in those stories. They happened our lives, and our lives revolved around them, us, as a tiny society in the seaside, became one with those plants. They were our food and we were theirs.

They have taught us of love and we have lived up to that. We tried to live up to that.

They have taught us how to live, in harsh conditions, starving of food, love, thirsty and unwelcome, they have taught us of how to love and strive. They became our food when we had none. Our shade when we were burning, our fire when we were freezing, our stories when we were bored.

They were how we learned not to fall or to get up, how we learned sharing, wisdom, patience. They were our greatest, most selfless teachers. Their scent filled up forests, pastures, even cities. They were there during the most important times of our lives, the scent of flowers was there for our birth and death, and when we graduated and married and laughed and cried. My city, it smells of lilacs.

Malvae Sylvestris was "İlmik" for me, when i was growing up. It grew during the rainy season, it made delicious börek filling and also was great with a side of youghurt. It is "ebegümeci" for some people still, which derives from "ebe gömeci (midwife's burier)", for its use in abortions before healthcare was as easy to reach. To some, this is medicine for the stinging nettle, or burns.

Prunus amygdalus is, well, almond, it is food to say the least. Almonds, "çağla" before almonds mature, and if fruits did not exist we would gnaw on the dried liquid dripping from the bark. The inedible variation, Prunus amygdalus var. amaratus, contains some amount of arsenic. The scent reminds me of thr bitter almond cookies, delicious really, to Gabriel Garcia Marquez it apparently inevitably reminded of thr fate of unrequited love. "Love in the Times of Cholera" smells like bitter almonds, the story, the whole story does.

Not a picture of them here, but here, stories about Morus nigra and Laurus nobilis and Rosa damascena and Galanthus sp.

You must know Apollon and Daphne, and how the poor girl was absolutely hating this god because of Apollo's cockiness and ego, how she begged the gods to be forgiven for a fault she did not commit. How, just as she was about to give up, she was turned into a tree, a laurel. How her body, still alive, now as a tree, had not found peace as Apollo made crowns out of her leaves, oh just because he loved her so much. This is a warped, horrible story about love, and about how we can sometimes do nothing or anything can be forgiven when they are out of love, no matter how badly we hurt others. This is glorifying being blind- as was Apollo. A beautiful story regardless.

Rosa damascena is again from greek mythology, and is a prettier, kinder, more gentle story- or as pretty and kind and gentle as Greek mythology goes. This is how Aphrodite's blood colored the all white roses red, as she was rushing to reach her dying lover. This is what she did for the one she truly loved, she was hurt and she did not care. This is what we think of true love. The lover died regardless. Red roses smell like blood to me, since then.

And do you want to hear yet another story? This is a regional story for snowdrop. Legend says that snowdrop was a delicate flower. So delicate yet so brave, so brave yet so in love. It was in love with the sun itself, and each day as it waited under the soil to bloom, the more the longing in its heart grew. The flower, in cold weather, imagined the gentle rays of the sun, pretty days of the spring. Each time it tried to repress its longing, it grew inside of the flower a little bit more. Each time the flower dreamt of beautiful, warm days of the spring, the cold felt colder. The snowdrop, being the brave little soul it is, then decided to bloom right that moment. The poor flower though, was gentle. Other flowers shouted, and the wind whispered to the seed, "do not bloom." "If you bloom now, the cold will kill you. If you bloom now, the snow will freeze you." It kniewz the snowdrop knew very well that the cold would kill it, and the snow would freeze it. One day, the flower waited for the snow to melt. Two days, for the air to get warm. Three days, the snowdrop was impatient. It longed for the sun more strongly than anyone had ever wished for something. The snowdrop turned its head away from other plants waiting under the soil, and started growing. It grew, grew, grew... But it was impatient, and the snow was still resting on the soil. The snowdrop did not care, and reached up, until it could finally see the sun. The already delicate flower was weakened already, and the cold was too much for it. Yet soon, the morning came and the sun was up. The sun rays were as warm and as gentle as the snowdrop had imagined, and the light was as beautiful. The sun smiled upon the snowdrop, and the snowdrop had seen the sun which it had missed for so long. It had touched the light for as much as it could... But the cold, the cold and the snow was too much, and the snowdrop was the only flower around. There died the poor flower, right that night, having seen the sun at the expense of its own life.

And yeah, mulberry. Would love to tell the story myself, but no. Just read, directly, from the source.

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Today, my hands smelled like many different things.

Coffee. Soil. Ash. Soap. Graphite. Cake. Cinnamon. Blood.

I got up early today, as i also will tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that, I believe it will never stop and I will never rest. Rest of the world seemed to need me awake for a reason i didn't know- and i didn't question- I just jerked myself awake off of the bed, made my way to the kitchen. It was one of the most average mornings i have yet to experience. The Sun was up. So was I. Then it came.

Coffee.

There was nothing out of ordinary in pouring myself a cup of coffee, as i did every morning. There was nothing out of ordinary in my hands when they absorbed the scent of coffee as i drank my cup, my hands were able to hold the smell and even after i was finished with my cup amd started to get ready, they never dropped the smell anywhere. The smell just clung to my hands, and i brought my nose closer to them, and there it was, the coffee i drank a while ago, ready to follow me through the day.

I put on my lipstick and searched aroumd blindly for the bottle of perfume. Not that i needed to present myself extra nice today, but there is nothing indictable with looking pleasant once in a while. Hurriedly i left my room and grabbed my coat, I always took so much time trying to get ready i forgot what i was preparing myself for and ended up looking improper for the occasion. Being unpunctual all the time was a defining trait, at this point in my life, that was all what made me, me. Yet I hastily sprinted, leaving behind any trace i had made, and i had existed as a person by deleting being late. I ran, until i was on time.

Strangely enough, my hands didn't smell like perfume.

I left school a little bit late today, I haven't been there for a while and the familiarity was slowly fading. What I used to know like the back of my hand was now just some old memory I have engraved somewhere on my brain- I couldn't seem to forget but I couldn't seem to quite remember either. I wandered the corridors until I finally learned them all over again, I ran after the neighborhood cat and admired the flowers that bloom each year. I left before memorizing where each of the birds' nest and started wa in the streets. I would have done it until I could finally remember whervflykrsteyawteyrsedyfgulıhş

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It was a cold, breezy night with wind blowing through trees and masts in the harbor, causing a haunting whistle. He could hardly get a blink of sleep, not because of the wind though, because of hunger. Wind only helped comforting him, the noises being an invisible company, he could forget his hunger for a short while. As he was slowly sliding into the even more haunted world of his own dreams a sudden noise and a pain poked him awake. He sighed and sat up, looking at his stomach still grumbling. Ignoring that wouldn’t do anymore- he hadn’t eaten anything since god knows when- “What a bother” he thought as he was putting on a thicker piece of cloth on and closing the door.

   This is how Phemius got out from his tiny, cold sanctuary right before dawn.

   This is also how he had the misfortune of hearing a melody that he couldn’t recall hearing.

   He couldn’t recall hearing any melody in his life anyways. It has been a long time anyone has heard anything that resembles some type of music. Babies would be born in a world with no melody and grow up in that same place without realizing something was wrong. People who would go to one of the many houses of God were already used to the type of melody there, the chants worshipping their own, thinking this is the only thing to listen. Others would know that music existed there but simply wouldn’t go. They had more important things in their lives, things more important than worshipping some god and listening their chants. Phemius was one of them. For whatever reason, he has never been to the houses of any god- so he didn’t hear any melody at all.

   That wasn’t what Phemius was thinking as he approached the bakery as the dawn was about to break. He was thinking of how nice it would have been if his stomach wasn’t so stubborn so he could buy bread in the morning, when it was fresh and warm. But he was hungry and maybe, just maybe the baker has left something worth taking in the back room. He shivered and tucked his coat tighter as he looked around to see if anyone else was there. The narrow streets were empty other than the man who was slowly putting out the streetlamps. Phemius knew he would be done before he came close to the baker- he was used to sneaking in places. He walked past the man as fast as he could, sliding his hand to his pocket as he walked by.

   -Careful, young man, the lamp extinguisher said, or you will fall before you know it.

   Phemius looked down at the rocky road with a grin on his face. He would fall for sure if he wasn’t used to running down this road already. But the lamp extinguisher didn’t know this, and it was better that he didn’t.

   -Will do, said Phemius gripping the old man’s wallet tighter in the pocket of his coat. He slowed down as he was told but his happy grin didn’t leave his face.

   Not long after he was in the baker’s, already filled his stomach and was looking for something in the cabinets. He didn’t find anything though, nothing other than flour at least, so he took the knife he saw on the counter, thinking it would worth a few days of food.  With a deep sigh he looked around for one last time and got outside from the window he came in, shook off the dust on his clothes and started to walk through his house.

   Wind was still blowing, this time warmer, but the whistle from the harbor seemed to quiet down. Instead, there was another nice voice coming from the opposite direction. Wind was making it harder to hear but it was a simple melody with a few notes. This didn’t change the fact that nearly no one has ever heard a melody. He approached the sound carefully, trying not to be seen by anyone. The source was sitting near a wall, surrounded by a considerably confused crowd. The chattering crowd, murmuring some impolite, uncivil words, looking mad as ever, that being said they couldn’t help but being mesmerized by the simple few notes coming out from the guitar. However, more than the melody, people were more interested in something else-

   “How did he managed to take a guitar?”

   It was again far away from what Phemius was thinking. He had locked his eyes to the locket which man playing the guitar was wearing. With that stupid smile on his face, not even aware of his surroundings- no, this was the case for everyone around, however instead of a smile, their faces radiated emotions caused by shock, anger and betrayal. He smiled back at the man and got closer to him, then took a deep breath again before walking away unnoticed. He walked past law enforcement officers and chuckled with the pride of knowing what comes next for sure.

   Not long after he heard a loud crash. He knew that it was the guitar being crushed. He also knew that whichever stupid, ignorant man playing the guitar was soon to be caught and punished.

   He didn’t hear any resisting though.

   He didn’t hear more chattering from the crowd as well.

   He didn’t look back as he didn’t care anyways. But if he did, he would have noticed for sure.

   That man was nowhere to be found.

                                              ___________________________________

     When he woke up at home the next day, he hurriedly grabbed the locket and the knife he effortlessly stole yesterday. He sighed before leaving them back down and starting to get dressed. He usually wasn’t alerted or careless enough to forget dressing up but since yesterday, he felt less safe in his home. Like his little, cold sanctuary has been invaded by an enemy, by a promise of a dangerous, horrible future. Not many people would have taken this feeling seriously but Phemius had learned to trust his guts over the years. It seemed to be the only thing which hasn’t lied to him so far. Still, it was early in the morning and he had more important things to do. Taking deep breaths to calm himself, he walked out of his room and went into the kitchen. He was planning to get something to eat before going out to sell things and until he tripped and nearly fell, this seemed like a completely reasonable plan for the morning. He didn’t remember there was a huge bump in his kitchen floor. When he looked down it became clear that he was right about huge bump not being on the kitchen floor, but the thing laying down there was surprising enough to shake Phemius more than a bump emerging from nowhere. He leaned on the counter as the effect of shock was being replaced by confusion in a matter of seconds. He didn’t have time to be confused though because the thing in the floor, which has now somehow managed to sit up, opened its eyes and smiled. It was a familiar smile.

   -Good morning!

   Phemius didn’t exactly know how to answer this. Lots of things he wanted to say started flying in around his head and as a result of not being able to choose the appropriate one, he ended up silent.

   The face looking at him became a bit more familiar after a few seconds. The smile on the face was the same as he remembered, with the shoulders being a little too tense and the eyes being a little too wide, Phemius couldn’t help but think this smile has been practiced in front of the mirror- and if he was right, and he had no way to learn if he was, it was impressive how realistic it was.

   -Thanks for the food?

   Phemius finally recognized the face clearly once he heard these few words. He gripped the locket tightly inside his pocket, just to make sure it still existed. He clenched his fist before answering:

   -Get out of my house!

   -I thought you would help me…

  Phemius was startled for a second when the man’s hand got too close. That was of course before he realized that the man was showing him the bruise on his arm. He sighed, he was tired of this already, what was this man doing here, having the audacity to ask him for help? He already knew this man couldn’t handle himself. Phemius didn’t want to handle him either. Instead, he choose to search for some cold water and toss a bottle to the man.

   He got paid for this kind action with a quiet, melodic whistle and another smile. A softer one, less scared, eyes less wide, shoulders less tense. And undoubtedly prettier. It was genuine, in some way, though still visibly forced; that man didn’t intend to show any sign of happiness. It wasn’t happiness. It was a thank you, a symbol of gratitude without any words. Words weren’t really necessary. Phemius wasn’t dumb- he could read every single thing this man felt- and it took a little bit of stupidity to not see people through, or at least he thought. He could see that the genuine feeling he had. He was used to this though, reading people wasn’t a new thing for him. Even the whistle, it was far more interesting.

   After a bit of silence, a sharp whistle scratched his ears, trying to get his attention. Phemius turned to the man, who was still shamelessly smiling- but it was nothing compared to what the man said afterwards.

   -Can I sleep here tonight?

  “You might as well don’t ask me if my answer doesn’t matter” Phemius thought, but only a simple “No” left his mouth. This must have felt not enough because he spoke his mind just a little bit more and kept going with “What would it change if I say no?” after a bit of weirdly heavy silence.

   -It’s your house.

   It was clear he meant that he had- or easily could find a place to stay by this. It was, however, palpably a lie, this man clearly didn’t have anywhere to go. Phemius chuckled, he thought it was hilarious or riotous beyond words, to risk getting caught by police by doing such an unnecessary and foolish thing, especially when you had nowhere else to go. This man, clearly, was the most foolish, injudicious person he ever had the misfortune to meet.

   -Your house is big.

   These words, said with a hardly visible smile, was a desperate attempt to let himself stay. It was a way to say, “It can take me in too”, it was a way to say “Please” without actually saying it, in a selfish way, and calling this little block divided by a thin wall a big house, this man evidently really didn’t have another choice but to be a bit selfish. Phemius understood. If it wasn’t for the pity he felt for this helpless man, he wouldn’t have let his head move detachedly from his brain and nod.

   -Sleep at the kitchen.

   He chuckled again after seeing the relief in the man’s face which he desperately tried to hide as he said “Okay” and nodded happily.

   -Just don’t eat my food.

   That shameless grin came back on his face like it has never left.

   -No promises

   Never in a hundred years it would have crossed his mind that he will one day meet that musician he saw on the road.

   To be honest, he wouldn’t have thought about him at all.

   Never it would have crossed his mind that he would, one day, learn his name.

   Let alone share a house.

   But as the man spoke, now sitting on the kitchen counter with the same shameless smile on his face, all these things were happening at the same time.

   -My name is Mihael by the way.

                                              ___________________________________

   Few days have passed since Mihael flagrantly inhabited his house. Phemius started thinking it wasn’t as bad as he was afraid, he did no harm other than eating his food. Like a rat. Enough to annoy Phemius. His existence, actually, was enough to make Phemius lack the desire to come home, no matter how much he needed it, the gloomy, subdued aura kept him away. The feeling of his home being invaded by an enemy, the promise of a horrible future still hasn’t left. His sanctuary was no longer safe- or so he thought. And Mihael was still there, nearly invisible, but still a better company than the wind. He would come in only when he needed it and leave when he felt like it. The only evidence, the only trace of his existence, was the guitar he left at home. If it wasn’t for the guitar, it was impossible for Phemius to tell someone else has ever been in his home as well as the hunch about the invasion of his house. The feeling and the guitar were all he had to prove he wasn’t mad. He hasn’t gone mad yet. He hasn’t.

     Despite not seeing him, Phemius was starting to get used to living with Mihael, and even he couldn’t confess this to himself yet, he was feeling living with him was better than being alone. Phemius started liking him. Which would be weird to confess. He didn’t expect his emotions to change so rapidly. This man, who couldn’t even take care of himself, who was frightened by life he was living, had no particular talents other than being imperceptibly stupid, senseless, who could only run away to keep living his meaningless life, what was there to love about him anyway? Why should Phemius have a liking for this parasite, a lowly creature who couldn’t even defend what he was doing, someone who runs away in the slightest inconvenience, with little to no interest about what he left behind. No interest in what keeps him alive. No interest in what he had sacrificed to be alive, be it a decade or a few seconds more of breathing. Phemius wouldn’t like such a cowardly and such a selfish person. He would have hated him. He must be hating him. What he had felt for this man so far, it must be pity. Can’t be that he had taken a liking to this parasite. But he did, indeed, feel pitiful when he saw him at his home for the first time and he still had that feeling. Maybe it got stronger. The pity he felt.

   And a longing for humans which he will never admit.

   A longing for interaction. The wish to feel human presence close. Closer than he did before.

   He needed that to feel human again. He needed to be less detached.

   Mihael was the only human close to him, the only presence he was close to right now. He got close to that poor human being who was suffering from mistaking oneself as god. He felt how sickeningly, miserably in need he was. How weak he actually was.

   If he was weak, though. If that was a weakness.

   Phemius slowly got up after struggling in his mind for a while and finally remembering to eat.  Going to the kitchen with small steps and silent breaths, he planned to approach the cupboard to grab an apple and to eat it back in his room. Noteless, his action and plans were obstructed by a being which was supposedly somewhere else. He was shocked for a second, then he realized the presence was familiar. It was unlikely actually seeing him though. The shock last relatively shorter than last time as he was getting used to the stranger, and it did not arise from the fact an unfamiliar being stood there but where the being stood. Mihael was on the kitchen counter with the guitar on his hand, tuning it. If Phemius came a few minutes later, he would be shocked by the music more than all other elements together. Unfortunately, he was early and he didn’t get to hear anything. Not that he wanted to- he didn’t want any trouble, especially caused by that man. But that man was trouble, with the guitar on his hands and the whistle on his lips, he was calling trouble with the songs he sang.

   Phemius opened his mouth to object right before he strummed the strings causing the other man to smile softly. He didn’t make any noise, at least with the guitar, but he was definitely getting ready to sing. The melody of the song was recognized through his voice.

   -Don’t worry… I’m not going to play it here.

   He was telling the truth- at least his shoes and coat waiting right next to him to be worn was saying that. He was going out to play, only to catch some more attention, for some rude words murmured right next to him, only to run back a place which he couldn’t even call home and plaintively beg for help again. And next day he would wake up in that place, and will go out to play the guitar, for no reason at all he would choose to live this pitiful life with no effort to make it even a little bit better. He just wanted to live, not a good or bad life. Still, he thought, he was playing music. The melody resonating whenever he got close to this man wanted him to stay a little bit closer to him, a second more- It was because the melody was beautiful. It was because this coward made this world a little bit more bearable. That was how this worthless man was alive. Even this ugly parasite had something to offer to this world. Phemius didn’t want to think more. His thoughts would focus on himself if he did. He sighed, knowing he didn’t want any more hardships, no matter how appealing the source was. Slowly turning to the other man, he slowly nodded.

   He was certainly unaware of how long this train of thoughts was, luckily it wasn’t long enough to let Mihael forget what they were talking about. He looked away, then looked back at Phemius and let out a soft whistle while turning his head away. Phemius turned to him, grinning. Turning to him because the whistle caught his attention, grinning because he knew this was meant as a “Thank you” not another weak yet useful attempt of getting his attention. They just stood next to each other silently for a while. It was rather enjoyable for both, though Phemius wouldn’t say it. He just looked at the long hair of his new roommate, which was battered and rather unhealthy, but still made his face look more prepossessing than it already was. His long eyelashes were the only healthy features on his weak yet handsome face. Still, he looked way younger and less tired compared to Phemius. His eyes were looking away, causing Phemius to grin, as he knew his new roommate wasn’t aware he was being watched. It sure was a nice sight to look at. Still, once he was used to the face, there wasn’t anything worth looking at anymore.

   They stood like that for a long enough time for Phemius to memorize his face, and the silence between them was broken when he reached for the cabinet taking a piece of bread and some honey he had left. Mihael was the one watching Phemius this time, looking at him, wondering how a person can be so silent while moving. He watched Phemius as he was splitting the bread, however unlike him, Phemius was well aware he was being watched. Still grinning, he turned to Mihael and spoke a few words.

   -Weren’t you about to go out?

   Mihael was uneasy after these words, as a result of his few happy minutes coming to an end. These words said in a sharp, ordering manner, having another meaning other than being a simple question was what made him feel uneasy. However, no matter how unhappy he was, he just nodded and slowly left the house. Phemius could hardly suppress his urge to laugh at this poor man. And how easy it was to make him feel bad. And how scared he was of getting hurt that he would just nod and leave. And how easy it was to read him. And everything, everything about him, other than the melody he would whistle, or play with that guitar like his life depends on it, with that great passion, for no reason at all. Even his life somehow depended on playing guitar, being alive, especially with his life, wasn’t valuable at all. Hilarious how pitiful he was, again, for no reason.

   Not many different from other people.

   If only he was a bit more away from Phemius’s sight.

   Thinking that, he swallowed the piece of bread he had left, and looked around before leaving the kitchen. His mind was near empty as he left the house, as he had no time to spare for overbearing, arbitrary thoughts flowing around in his mind. There were more important matters to take care of.

                     ______________________________________________________

   Some nights are colder than others. That’s a well-known fact to everyone, or at least to majority of people, and finding someone who hasn’t realized this would be hard, and most likely useless. However, the cold doesn’t affect everyone just the same. There is a minority of people, who never had to realize which nights are the cold ones. The people who could afford not going out at nights, ones who can afford thick walls, who can afford keeping their house away from the horrors the night could possibly bring. They are safe and sound in their homes, not even thinking about the dismay night could bring, the ones who have never felt a cold breeze in their throat, carrying feelings heavier than a human could bear. The ones who never had to run away from their own homes. And some others, they are simply not as lucky. Whether their houses aren’t enough to keep the cold away, or they have no home at all. The night twines them, fills their lungs and drowns them before they even get to realize, makes them rot, decay, and they can only try to survive. They were the ones who aren’t safe in their in own homes, the ones that must protect themselves. The ones who don’t get to close both of their eyes, even; coping with their homes attacking them, who were alone against a cold, cruel world, a bait for it, a sacrifice so the warm homes could stay warm, and the safe homes could stay safe.

   Since the sanctuary started feeling invaded, the cold nights started to feel colder. Phemius was neither the luckiest nor the unluckiest- he managed to keep most of the outside world outside, but now the cold was getting in, bringing all its filth, taking over the sanctuary. The wind sneaked its way inside the tiny room, getting inside the blankets, filling into his lungs with every breath, and every breath felt heavier than the other, leaving him with more fear and some pain. He couldn’t even dare to look outside, so his eyes won’t be doors for fear to come in. Instead, he hugged the blankets tighter, hoping to get a bit warmer. He didn’t feel safe. The future didn’t feel safe.

   Sleep didn’t come as easy as it used to, and for Phemius, who could hardly sleep at all, this was a huge problem. He was staring at nothing, and he was alerted, sure that he was going to hear something other than his own, heavy breathing. As a matter of fact, he was right about this, he heard the voice of a door creaking, a voice he heard almost every night yet ignored. This time, however, he sat up and started staring at the door.

   He knew that this noise was the result of his roommate, trying to sneak in while he was sleeping. He never realized that Phemius woke up every time the door creaked. He never realized Phemius realized it whenever he sneaked into his room to get a blanket before going to the kitchen, like he was told. Today was the same, other than Phemius being visibly awake and sitting. Like every other night, Mihael stood in front of the door for a while, and opened the door so gently- but it creaked anyways. He got inside only to see Phemius staring at him, trying to hide a grin caused by seeing that poor man tremble.

   -Were you awake?

   Mihael spoke with a voice lower than usual, most probably because it was night; and shaky, again, probably because of the cold. Still grinning, Phemius nodded at him, granting the permission to enter, and kept his eyes on him as he slowly walked next to the cupboard. Then, like every other night, he took out a blanket, however this time he looked at Phemius before leaving, for a little bit too long. His actions were nearly impossible to be seen, due to being too slow, and he was still looking at Phemius while turning around, waiting for a movement, any movement from him. Phemius, enjoying the sight, was refusing to show any sign that he is not a statue. His grin came back after a while though, when he heard a few words, with an unsure, trembling voice-

   -Your room-

   -It’s warm, isn’t it?

   The answer came back much more relieved.

   -It’s- it’s big…

   Phemius was proud of himself for turning the laugh into a soft smile on his lips, and luckily that soft smile affected his voice as well in a way he didn’t intend or wish to.

   -Eh, pretty much the same thing.

   “I can share it with you.”

   The tension seemed to be relieved, at least a half of it, or maybe a quarter, but at least a bit, and Phemius watched his roommate take large yet slow steps towards his bed. He reached for his waist, pulling him down, making him sit right next to him. He didn’t feel like laughing. He felt a pair of arms on his waist. He didn’t feel like laughing. That usual grin of his has completely left once he felt that soft hair on his shoulder. He lift his hand, putting it on his head, gently running his fingers through the hair, resulting with a silent moan. He wanted to laugh. He didn’t. Instead, he slowly lied down, letting his roommate rest his head on his chest, and reaching for the two blankets, covering both of them.

   The night didn’t get any warmer. In fact, it got colder after a few hours. Phemius couldn’t sleep even though it was late, and that he was tired, even more tired than usual. The wind kept banging the windows, cold getting inside his body, horrors mixing up with his blood, keeping him awake. He stared at the ceiling all night, couldn’t even dare to breathe, scared that he will wake that man up. He stayed awake, wide awake for the rest of the night, letting the wind reach deeper into his body then ever before. He wasn’t at ho­me an­ym­ore from the scary outside wo­rld. From the pain it w­as certainly going to bring, from what he protected himself from- so far.

   He stared emptily at the ceiling for the rest of the night, didn’t even attempt to sleep. His body wouldn’t let him, instead, it would keep sending a warning, an indication of “bad things” that will happen, and Phemius, who learnt to trust his guts already, would take this seriously if he wasn’t already tired, but he was, and furthermore, he was about to get used to this warning. If he drowned in fear a little bit more, he was surely going to forget everything he felt before- His head felt too heavy at this point, and his eyes got teary as a result of being on the edge for too long. He kept staring at the ceiling, that was until a little movement on his chest reminded him of a few hours earlier, and the fragile, dreamy composure the being laying on him held. He kept laying there motionless, afraid to break the thin thread tying this man to a hopefully better, safer world of dreams.

   And Mihael lied there, safe and sound, not aware of the terrors that might break in anytime, protected by Phemius, whose thoughts were already invaded by said terrors.

   It surely was a beautiful scenery, for anyone watching from outside.

   Phemius also thought the same. A pretty, fragile face, laying on his chest, sleeping, finally managed to distract him from his own mind. So delicate, beautiful, gentle… not near as bothersome as when he is awake.

   He was glad he got to see this man like that. He was glad that he got to be with a pretty being. He was glad to be alive, aware, and feeling.

   The cold was still flowing in his veins despite all the warmth this poor man tried to fake.

   As the sun started rising, the cold started leaving with no hurry. The birds warmed up, starting to tweet like they haven’t gone through a horrible night for another time, they chirped with the simple happiness of survival. The flowers slowly turned their faces towards the sun, hoping to get the warmth they crave. People in the city started waking up, to live their everyday lives, and leaving their houses and stepping into the outside world, now safe with the presence of the sun. And the only trace of the terrors of the last night was in Phemius’s memories, the fading remainings of night’s awe, the warnings of the future going down- no one felt those other than Phemius. No other trace than his hands clenching onto the blanket, his chest feeling heavier than ever, and every breath getting more and more painful. No one felt as scared as he did tonight.

   But as the sun was rising, the traces he felt also started slowly fading ever so slightly, leaving his mind empty. And when the man on his chest breathed once again, unaware of his surroundings, Phemius managed to form a smile. He wasn’t sure what made him smile, especially when his chest was still so full.

   He was about to start liking whatever he was feeling though.

                _________________________________________________________________

   A few mornings have passed, in which Phemius could have sworn he went to the bed alone, but woken up by a fairly close contact, and with his unwelcome roommate right next to him. This was another one of such mornings, and he was getting tired of it, yet he tried to get up without waking the man up. He stared at him for a while, carefully examining every insignificant detail on his face, before leaving to take a shower. He was sweaty from the warmth that has been around him all night, which has been suffocating after a while. He breathed in the cold air as soon as he left the room. It didn’t mend anything.

   Rest of the morning went with him getting ready to go out, like always, and as a part of their everyday routine, his roommate left without a trace. At least he attempted to- he was easy to read for Phemius now, and was getting easier by day. He now could detect the man’s lingering traces all around the house, he didn’t even have to see the man to understand what he must be thinking of. He could see every single thought he tried to hide, every feeling he tried to fake. It was clear for Phemius’ just like, or even easier than, reading through other people. Maybe that was why he let him share the bed, because he couldn’t hide his loneliness, or his desperation for something, someone to touch. Anyone, no matter who.

   It hasn’t yet struck him that both of them were suffering from the same type of loneliness.

   He threw his coat over his shoulders and locked his door. That was rather unnecessary though, as his house already felt unsafe, he didn’t trust this poor lock at all. Yet it wasn’t the lock’s fault, so he led it stay on the door. He looked at the house once more, which didn’t feel so different from anything else outside now, yet at least had four walls and a roof. He knocked the door before leaving, and started getting away, as traces of him and his roommate had gotten less and less dense with each step.

   He knew now, what invaded his house. He must have always known if he didn’t run away. But as he finally admitted that the same thing has taken over both his house and mind, he couldn’t stop his lips curling upwards, in a softer manner than they have ever managed to.

   He was glad, that at least, what was causing all that wasn’t an enemy.

   He kept walking as the morning breeze restlessly kept pricking his lungs, though it was getting weaker, letting the sun warm itself up. He kept walking the same streets he did every morning, putting a step on another on the rocky road, which had enough time to memorize his footsteps, looking at the same doors of same stores, with the same men inside. The only new things were the wallets that kept piling up in the pockets of his coat. And the melody that was stuck somewhere behind his mind. He wasn’t sure though, if that melody was coming from inside his mind or outside. Though unlikely, people around him were faster than usual, trying to get away from something, it could be that his roommate, stirring up trouble again.

   Phemius wasn’t even mad at his stupidity after spending so much time with him, he just pitied the futile, vain music that he would sometimes hear. The music desperate to be heard, yet lost all it’s beauty once someone listened, became something else, not as lonely as before. Phemius might have been the only one to notice the change though, other people either just walked by, or stared in amazement for a short while. Their amazement or anger, or whatever they show meant nothing though. They were nothing but standard reactions. They didn’t make the music less lonely.

   Phemius stepped closer to the source, and started watching the man playing the guitar again. He held back his laugh this time, though not his grin, as he watched the man move with the same manners as the one inside his head, holding the guitar, looking around, and happily smiling once their eyes met, which was compensated with a little nod.

   He had spent too much time walking around, yet he stopped among other people, and started listening. He listened the music, and the murmurs, and the unrelated chattering, and the angry grunts of the shop owners; and more of the music which was becoming softer, and more and more familiar until it reached into his skull and starched into his mind; and more murmurs, and someone marching with bulky, loud boots; and he watched the man play his guitar, his touch getting delicate as he played as well as his reckless, stupid smile; and people who were watching him, without making a noise, and eyes widened, and others who were whispering, turning away, or to each other, yet didn’t walk away; or the ones that walked away with bothered expressions, or people who were coming just now, and he heard a loud noise, and more marching, loud noise later stopping the music, marching men getting closer, and a gasp, and saw people stepping aside, other than himself, he heard his own footsteps, and the wind grazing his ears, and he felt another hand inside his, a delicate, yet strong one, and he felt the wind getting faster, and his legs giving up, and he heard a siren, or a bell, or a hoot, whatever it was it wasn’t pleasant to listen, and he felt tired, though the wind kept getting faster and faster until he couldn’t hear the siren, and a familiar building with four walls and a roof begin to form before his eyes, he saw it get bigger, bigger, bigger… and darker. The voices around him started turning into a meaningless humming as his vision blurred, then dimmed.

   After that point, there isn’t much that he remembered.

   A few hours must have passed until he regained his vision, and Phemius was glad he could see every single detail outside for the first time in his life. He looked at the setting sun, dying the skies in a dark red, and letting everyone know the day has come to an end. His window seemed smaller than he remembered, most likely as he didn’t care looking out for a long while, he then attempted to get up from the bed which resulted with a groan- every muscle in his body hurt. He leaned on the wall and held the ledge of the window, resulting with a few splinters on his hand. He didn’t care though, took a few deep breaths instead, and looked up to see outside. The air has started to get colder. Outside world looked so promising, full of details, and every little detail started to find their place on his head. The sparrows tweeting on the ground, the petite, naughty child who chased them away, and tiny pieces of feathers that fell. The child then took the feather and ran next to other children who seemed tinier than he is. On the opposite side of the road was another small house, someone else’s sanctuary, with another window that needs to be varnished. And a man sitting in front of it, his clothes sweeping all the dust from the road, has tried to stick its vision on this morning’s memory. He failed though, the man realized Phemius, so he clumsily got up, and left, hardly walking. And this morning’s memory stayed.

   Sparrows flew, children ran, the dust mixed into the air and the sun sank more and more, leaving Phemius alone with his memories. He groaned again, this time from annoyance as his door opened, and his roommate let himself in.

   Phemius was too tired to have a conversation, though considering he spent most of his time running away, it was nothing physical. He kept facing the window unresponsive until he felt a touch on his shoulder.

   -I’m sorry

   His roommate spoke softer than usual, with also weariness in his voice.

   And Phemius answered back, with the same level of weariness.

   -What for?

   “I don’t regret helping you” “You didn’t force me, don’t be sorry” “It’s not that important” “I’m not that bad” “I can take care” “I can take care of you too”

   Mihael smiled, carefully sat next to him, like he was something delicate, like he will cry and scream in pain even with the softest touch. Then laid his head on the windowsill, blocking his view, and slowly, very slowly, reached for his hand. His touches were careful and slow, yet clumsy, and Phemius could have smiled a little bit if he wasn’t sick from worrying.

   To Mihael’s surprise, he didn’t resist his hand being put on his roommate’s head, and fortuitously, with the moment’s heat, started running his hands through his long hair. Both of them moved slowly, anyone watching would have thought they were actually statues, and neither of them spoke a single word, like letters were too tired to come out, and words were too lazy to form sentences.

   None of them really needed speaking though. Mihael didn’t have to say a word to be understood. He didn’t need to understand Phemius either. He just needed to exist, to be there, that was all. None of his words would have an effect anyway.

   As for Phemius, it wasn’t like he wanted to speak. It wasn’t like speaking would do him any good. He was still alone, in all the important decisions were for him to make. His emotions were his to bear alone. His worries wouldn’t be resolved even if he spoke. So he remained silent for the rest of the night, as he comforted this man whom he didn’t have the power to speak to, while the cold air once again filled his chest. The smells of outside mixed with his blood, started their nightly journeys through his veins, making his heart beat faster and faster.

   And he once again clenched his fists, holding onto the man’s shirt, who had been asleep long time ago, in a safe harbor, while the breakwater was fighting the waves and thunder in his place. He stood awake for as long as he could, unable to close his eyes. The night was silent, the wind was all he heard, and the ceiling was all he saw. Two bodies lied on the same bed, sharing warmth, and as quiescent as the life stored within them allowed them to be.

   They were safe, and they were together for another night.

                         _________________________________________________________

   That morning had already passed.

   It was already afternoon when Phemius could get up. His roommate was still asleep next to him despite the hour, and Phemius neither could bring himself to leave him, nor he had the energy after a near sleepless night. His heartbeat was normal already, yet his arms were unwilling to listen to him and let the man go and thus unlike he usually does, he stayed at his room, on the bed, idly and uselessly let the time pass. He was aware he was late for work. He had been aware it’d be too risky to go out at this point -he’d most likely be seen- yet he was unable and averse to get up.

   However risky it was, though, he had to leave, and he forced his now rebellious body to act against its will. He took a deep breath and got out of the room, which gave him the ability to think clearer for whatever reason. Sneaking in somewhere currently, without being seen, was impossible, but if he waited a bit more, the streets were going to be more crowded, making any attempt of pickpocketing go unnoticed. For that though, he had to stay at home for a few hours more- realizing this gave him a sudden sharp pain on his chest- and wait for the streets be more crowded- he felt like he was in an enemy territory- the weather was hotter than usual today, was it really convenient?- though that seemed like the most reasonable thing to do- sounds of his own steps reached his ears, he just had to wait a little bit more- very slowly reaching the kitchen- it was hot outside- he should be eating something before going out, he didn’t need a coat- he didn’t feel like eating though, his stomach was halted and he doubted if he could digest any food, yet it was worth a try. He reached for the jar of honey but withdrew his hand-

   “Too sweet.”

   So he reached for something else, an apple, which was lacking any will to tempt anyone to be eaten. It was overripen and bruised, and as Phemius understood after a bite, bland. It was more than enough though, as long as it was food, as long as his stomach didn’t bother him.

   His stomach seemed to be the last thing to bother him right now though, or at least he thought, his heart started beating faster again and warning him, the same warning it kept giving off, something bad will happen, nothing is right, something is going wrong, dreadful, lousy, his future was drowning, lastly his stomach has joined the rest of his body aching with fear and he felt like throwing up everything he ate, his brain was a mess and he couldn’t even think- For a while, he just stood there, crouched down, and holding a half-eaten apple. Took in the pain his body was sending him, felt it getting stronger- and all this soon ended when he felt a hand on his shoulder, moving the pain from the entire body to the shoulder only.

   Right in front of him stood a smiling face, shameless as ever, looking at him.

   The face spoke. It spoke with a melodic tone as it always did, and though the voice wasn't calming Phemius could relax a little after listening to what it said. And it spoke as foolish as he thought would be.

   -Let me come with you today

   Phemius was, almost always, right about the judgements he made just about anyone. People, to him, were easy to read, and so far, there hasn't been a single person who could outwit him. He could see what people are trying to hide, or what they were thinking, all so naturally. And yet, he has never met a person as easy to understand as this dense, ignorant and doltish person standing right in front of him. His grin tried to come back on his face, yet it wasn't as strong as the ones before. He could understand this man no matter how hard he had tried to remain hidden. From this simple sentence, he could see everything going on in his mind, that he didn’t want to be alone, be left behind or forgotten. That he was afraid of being unimportant, being alone with his thoughts. He was so much simpler than he made it seem.

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Milk story

I

I stared at Mother, in awe.

She was holding her baby, or one of them. I never seemed to quite grasp the importance of calling their names, or have cared enough to learn them. It was another baby Mother has beared this year, like the year before, and the one before, and the one before i was born, or like the two years before i was born. I was one of her firstborn children and just like the other firstborn, i was tasked with helping with childcare. Mother would only feed them, and there were so many Mother would spend all her time preparing food, or breastfeeding. I was the one tucking them to sleep along with my two other sisters and two other brothers. Mother had been giving birth for the last 22 years, despite her young age of 40. She would keep bearing children for as long as she could, or so it seemed. As every other Mother in the village. Children and fertility has always found to be some sort of a divine gift, a power no mind could quite grasp, something so valueable that it should be used until the last drop, until Mother has a body so sick it can bear nothing but flawed children or no children at all, and as a result the village has always been full of new babies. Babies and infants that couldn't care for themselves, and require assistance even for the simple task of falling asleep. Children whose faces i cannot recall. Always changing, always fresh and new. Mother had a baby in Her arms, trying to reach her breasts and one in Her uterus, just about to be born.

It wasn't my time yet. I had seen my Mother, and my sisters, all other Mothers in the village. I would know when it was my time just like they knew theirs, so it was unbelieveable that Mother just proposed me what She has proposed.

The baby reeked of milk. Just like all the other babies did. It was another reason why it was just another baby, just another child to be brought up and thrown away and to create offsprings when his time comes.

It was not my time yet.

Mother spoke.

"Your younger sisters think its their time too. They will be bearing children this year, and if nothing bad happens, they will be Mothers themselves whereas you still act as if you are a baby yourself! This is what everyone must do my dear, and what you must do now."

She spoke more, but i wasn't listening. I wasn't acting like a baby, I thought. The baby was in Her arms, pulling Her shirt down, finally exposing Her breast to the cold weather and my eyes. I saw Her shiver, but She let the baby have what he wanted.

"It is not my time yet."

She has thrown me an impatient, demanding look. There was no sign of anger in Her eyes. There never was.

"Your oldest sister has a 4 year old this year. Other girls your age have one or two children, expecting another. It is your time. We have waited enough."

I never quite understood why I was so important in the picture. There were so many children already, it didn't seem like my pregnancies would make any difference. A few less or a few more. But just like my Mother, other Mothers too were demanding and impatient, and I, just like them, should have started using my fertility until the last drop, until my body gave out, until I have seen my grandchildren and their grandchildren. Not only that, but I myself should have been a Mother, for respect or for love or for the sake of this belief that I was a gift from God, and to be born a woman was to be born a machine tasked with making children. Call it whatever you want, i never thought where this holiness came from.

I bowed at Mother and Her exposed chest as uttered a few words despite my tongue trying to hold them back.

"I will consider."

"You have been considering it for a while, dear. It is not the time to consider, it is time to act."

I left Mother's presence without a single sound. I reeked of milk.

Next day i had seen my sister smiling, i knew she had given birth to another, which i have lost count of and so had she. Another baby was added to our village. Another one i should take care of.

"How do you do it? How does it happen?"

My sister had smiled at me, both snobbishly and understandingly, as if She was the only one who knew why I had no children so far, and for that She understands me better than anyone else, and as if this understanding gives Her a higher statue than anyone else. She stepped closer to me, until i have felt Her big chest touching mine, and held my face between Her hands. She spoke softly into my ear.

"So that's why. You don't know how."

Indeed i didn't know why, but that was not the reason. I didn't tell Her that, instead i just gave Her a nod and kept listening.

"At night... Wait for a moonless, dark night. You have to drink a glass of those teas Mother keeps ready at home. Go outside, away from the village. You will see a soft, white circle surrounding the village. Take your clothes off once you see it, and lay down on it. Keep your arms and legs open. You will fall into a long, dreamless sleep, from which you will wake up as sun rises. This is how every Mother becomes a Mother."

I was surprised how little She knew about the process too, but as this was a divine gift, so must the children be. Or so I thought. I didn't completely welcome the irrational idea of being naked in the dark forest, but as i was going to be alone, it wouldn't have mattered so much. I thanked my sister. She smiled again, by the pride of someone who has just made something nobody else ever could, before leaving my face and taking Her chest off of mine.

Since I was a child, Mother has been rather fond of me for a reason I don't know. She always told I was special, and kept me aside from others. She always smelled like fresh milk, and she would always have a baby in her arms trying to reach that. Until the day I was 18. I was busy making cheese with the other girls, when Mother came to me with another Mother, and told me it was my time. I refused, of course. She got mad at me for the first time in my life. That day i will never forget. Her face, Her words, Her anger, the shade of the sky, the sound of the baby on her arms screaming, the smell of cheese and the rotten vegetables... I would not dare make Mother mad again. Not when She loves me so much.

Mother smelled like cheese, or rotten milk since then. Today however, She smelled like milk- like Herself. She was hopeful it was my time. She knew I couldn't go against her anymore. Whether it was just a guess or an insight, She was right. She was right. She was right, I repeated to myself a few times. It was my time. I was going to do it, because no matter what I felt about myself, no matter if I was ready or not, whether I understood what it meant to be a Mother or not... Mother's love meant so much to me.

I found the tea Mother keeps made, and secretly took one into my room. It was a moonless night tomorrow.

Next day I didn't leave home. I was scared of what would happen at night, had decided I would do it. I sat in front of the mirror and whispered words Mother would whisper at me as a child. That I was a special one, that I would be fine no matter how I end up. That I would be the best of the women and best of the Mothers, best of the farmers, nurturers, all those other things I could and should be. It had been a long day yet sun has set before I knew it, and i was ready to get up and go out. I wore my night gown and tasted the tea. It was bitter. I tried mixing it with a glass of milk I had in my room, resulting with lumps all over it, an undrinkable, possibly poisonus liquid. Didn't look more appetizing than the tea itself. I ran to the kitchen trying to keep my steps as quiet as humanly possible, took another glass of tea and drank it as quickly as i could. Tasted bitter, but it was over in a short time. I quickly left home.

I did as my sister said, word for word. I walked outside inside the forest, until i saw the white thing circling around the village. It seemed as if it was flowing. I took my gown off and placed it on a tree, and i turned around to see another girl whom i neither have expected to see nor have I known what to do in such a case. I just looked at her, surprised, as she stood a few steps ahead of me and took her clothes off. She didn't notice I was standing there and watching her, the light of that white, cloud-like circle was reflecting on her body, her legs, her long hair... She turned around, and seemed as shocked as I was to encounter someone else.

"Sorry" she stuttered, "I- I didn't think I'd have company- uh-"

I cut her off, already feeling drowsy.

"It's alright. I can move somewhere else."

She nodded, it seemed like she was sleepier than I was. I tried to turn back and take a few steps, but my legs were wobbly and I could hardly stand still.

"Are you scared?" she muttered, sitting down on the ground, her foot in the circle.

"More tired than anything, really."

She held out her hand. I smiled with the last remaining will on my body. "They didn't say anything about company."

II

I woke up with the sunrise, as my sister said I would, to see I was completely alone. My flesh was still tender after whatever happened last night, and i kind of felt sore all over- I got up hoping that meant it worked. Darkness was no longer hiding my body and frankly this was more bothersome than I thought, i let my mind wander while getting up. My nightgown was no longer where I put it. There were a pair of trousers however and a blouse that seemed to be a size too small for me. I put them on them regardless, anything was better than being naked for a second more. I walked uncomfortably due to the trousers touching my bare skin and the tenderness of my flesh still, and i kept feeling uneasy during all my trip. It took longer than I expected and the Sun burnt my skin more than it should have and my mind wandered off to places where it didn’t knew existed- or didn’t think I cared. The soreness of my skin has slowly faded away as i approached home. I sense Mother was around. It smelled like babies and milk around Her, and i realised just now all our house has that same smell. My legs no longer felt so awfully bleary and as i gained my power back i walked faster, and faster, and then I ran towards Her, towards my home. Towards where I belong. Me, and the child i carried. I hoped I had made Mother proud. Of me. Finally.

I don’t remember whether I knocked the door or not. I don’t know who welcomed me in, or congratulated me for finally doing it, or gave me a glass of water. All happened quickly, around me, without waiting for me to catch up or slowing down a bit to let me process all that’s happening, everybody else knew but I didn’t, my body was no longer my properity but it was the baby’s or my sisters’ or anyone else’s- i tried to stop thinking. At least I made Mother proud, haven’t I, she would no longer be sad or mad, She would love me now. I was finally what I was supposed to be, my mind would not stop to think, or to wander around where it couldn’t catch it back, i should at least get a grip of myself and answer their questions, I thought, and it smelled more like Mother, and though I couldn’t look up I have heard Her voice, cold and directive, but still loving, a few simple words;

“Welcome home, both of you.”

I knew what She meant by this. I knew I would no longer have been welcome if I hadn’t brought back a baby. But regardless, I had brought back one, there was no longer a reason to exclude me from among them. Mother came close and placed Her hand on my stomach. She gave me a slight nod before leaving. My pain was nearly gone, and at that point there was no longer any tenderness on my skin, other than where she held my hand. Not Mother. The girl last night.

I wanted to leave after Her. My body no longer felt mine, both because of the baby and the fingers of my sisters constantly running on my skin, my arms, stomach, breasts, groins... No matter what they told me, and they were whispering things to me that i have heard countless times about; the joy of motherhood, finally reaching my potential, being blessed, the miracle of life- must be because i was so used to them they no longer had an effect on me, but I was not used to a body so unfamiliar, not since the day I was born. I squeezed my right hand into a fist. Where that girl touched me yesterday still felt warm. It seemed they started to walk around me somehow, quietly muttering words I did not want to hear, touching my forehead, kissing my cheeks, grazing my arms, i think someone kneeled in front of me and did something i didn't want to feel. I closed my eyes, let my sisters take over my skin and the baby use up my blood. I was no longer with them, i was no longer inside what didn't belong to me- neither the home not the body. All I had left was the warmth in my right hand, my right hand was still mine. And Mother, oh, Mother! I hope You are proud of me, Your little girl, she is a Mother of her own now, just because You wanted her to be, Mother! Oh how I wish You would be there, holding my hand instead of that girl who held it yesterday, Mother! Don't let me go, Mother, don't leave me alone, I will never, ever become what You want of me, Mother! I try to, I really try to! Please Mother, hear how I scream with agony, see how I cry with fear, don't leave me alone, Mother, don't leave me alone, not now!

Mother was no longer with me. But there was this girl now, with her long hair and fair skin, standing right beside me, my hand in her palm. Our hands reflected the bright waters and the starlight. She smiled wearily, slowly closing her eyes she invited me to a deep sleep with her, right next to her, it was like a promise i could trust her, that I never have to be so scared again, a promise happy things, all the pleasant things were waiting for us and none of the horrors. A promise she would never let go of my hand, never again. It was as if all I needed for a happy life was her.

I woke up from these delusions quite late into the day. Everybody was already out and I had work to do quite earlier that day- I stormed out of home without changing or even brushing my hair- my brothers must have been waiting for me. I went up to the fields of cotton where there still was, thanks to me, a lot to do, I got to it with a haste and apologised over and over as my brothers were upset I didn't come earlier- children, you see, they were still so young and upset as they needed supervision, _my_ supervision to do the simplest work. I let them start as I start working alongside them. There were still cows to be milked and little sisters to be picked up from their nannies, and a house to be taken care of, but until now I had done all my work without any complaints and I would be doing them today. It would be alright, I thought, it would be alright, I would manage.

Next few months were nearly the (s)ame with those i have (l)ived before, I would go out and (h)elped with the work, I would milk the cows, oh did they adore me so much, boil it, make cheese or yogurt or something with it, go out to pick flowers to light up the house, put one in my hair and go out, with the

I did manage until the day i finally delivered the child. Mother was there to bless the newborn and the light in Her eyes, the simple happiness She felt from this *küçük olay*, oh I loved Mother, for sure, and She loved I and the child. Mother had a smile stuck in her lips.

"What will you name him?"

I never quite grasped the importance of naming them just for their identity to be completely dismissed later in life, but Mother was as demanding and as stubborn as ever.

"Sibyl, don't tell me you haven’t thought about this before. What will you be naming him?"

I was silent for a while, but not a second more than what Mother could tolerate. The Sun was shining brightly from the window, *kamaştırmak*. It was really bothersome, all this. My poor baby would not even have a proper name, huh. Not even a name, not even a loving house.

"I'll call him Andrew."

Without stuttering, without a second guess, I have blurted out the first name I have thought of. Just as Mother would have wanted, sure of myself, and sure of my child.

"Andrew?" Her voice was intrigutive.

"Yes, Mother. I am sure the name will suit him."

She seemed satisfied and rewarded me with a simple caress on my forehead, and my baby with a kiss before leaving. I was abstinent especially when it came to Her love, the satisfaction she got, even without the pride was enough for me to live by. I was content with what i got and if Mother would only love me so much now, I would get used to being loved only so much. Anything to make Mother (s)atisfied. I knew what I needed to do, now. I knew it was time again, and there was no time to rest. Just a while- just a short while later I would drink another cup of tea and be alone with myself at dark, waiting for the miracle to repeat itself. I knew it, I always knew it, even though it felt out of a dream, a psychotic episode I no longer have access to, I would beg to god knows who, perhaps to God himself to quench my greed and feed me another seed, give me another baby, another baby I don’t want to have, but will have, for this is the only way for Mother to love me now. Love your daughter, Mother, Your daughter loves You. I love you.

I drank the tea.

I stepped out of the home, to the darkness.

And there she was the girl.

I felt my hand ache with her sight, this time she was here before me, and it made sense for her to be here since we became Mothers ourselves the same day. When I looked at her up close, she seemed younger than me. Prettier than me. She fit here more than me. Somehow, i felt the skin on my hand ache for her. I stepped closer, my god her skin lit the night as if the moon was still there, my fingertips grazed the light. I happened to starle her, but she smiled. I was recognized, for the first time I was recognized for being me. She held my hand. I had recognised her touch from around a year ago.

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Krallı moralli hikaye #bilmemkaç

"Yazık, çok yazık." Kafamı salladım onaylamazcasına, ellerimi ise şefkatle gezdirdim zavallı, hasta kardeşimin alnında. "Kıyamam. Haşmetlim benim, kıyamam, yazık sana!" Eğildim ve öptüm onu alnından, eğer yüzündeki kasları oynatacak mecali olsaydı yüzüme tiksinerek, nefretle bakacağını bile bile öptüm yanaklarından ve okşadım saçlarını. "Yazık sana canım kardeşim, merhametimin eline düştüğüne, acımamın kurbanı olduğuna yazık. Yazık sana yüce kral, hele de en son istediğin şeyken bu ikiyüzlülük; kendi buyüklenmemin aleti, kendi günahlarımı söke söke temizlediğim sabun olmana yazık. Evet sevgili kardeşim" dedim, sarıldım ona, olabildiğine sevecen, olabildiğine merhametle. "Evet sevgili kardeşim, sen hariç, sen hariç herkes, herkes diyorum! Hepsi affetti beni, ve sen affetmesen ne geçer eline son günlerini içine atacağın hasetle yanan ateşten başka? Oysa ben senin," fark etmeden gülümsüyordum, ve o beni bir hain sayıyordu, "oysa ben senin mutluluğunu isterim ancak. Biliyorum, yetinebilirsin merhametin içindeki sevgi ve aşkın kırıntılarıyla!" Bir lütuf olarak acınmayı sunmuştum ona, ve gururu bunu, acınacak halde olmasına rağmen, kabul etmiyordu. "Bir zamanlar ne görkemli şeydin, ne güçlü, ne yüce! Kimseden korkun yoktu değil mi, belki ölümün kendinden bile, hiçbir acıdan çekinmezdin, bir asker, bir kral, bir, bir- bir kahkaha patlattım- Amaan, neyse ne! Yüceydin işte, ama ben kırdım seni, yarattığın o porselen maskeyi yere atıp parçaladım, ve hissettmemeye yemin ettiğin tüm o duygular doluşuyor kalbine. Doluşuyor, içinde korkunç çığlıklar atarak dolaşıyor, ve sen elini kaldırıp onları kovmaktan bile acizsin şimdi!"

Kardeşim zorlanarak bir inilti çıkardı, ne güzel bir iniltiydi o! Acı çekiyordu biliyorum; acı, nefret, kin ve öç doluydu o inilti ağzına kadar. Başka bir şey hissetmesine fırsat vermemiştim. Eğildim ve bir kere daha öptüm kardeşimi yanağından, yetmedi, bir kere de göğsünden. Hayır diyemedi, diyemezdi, konuşamazdı. Beni ittirmeye kalkışmadı, parmağını bile oynatamazdı. Üzerinden eğilip yatağın yanındaki şamdanı söndürdüm, biliyorum korkardı karanlıktan, içten içe nefret ederdi önünü görememekten, ama ışığı yakacak ateşin yerini bilmiyordu zavallı kardeşim.Oturdum yatağın yanına ve biraz daha okşadım onu, saçlarını, ellerini, giysilerini...Karanlıktan belli olmasa bile sapsarıydı yüzü. Gözlerinin feri solmuş, sağında solunda kırmızı lekeler, ve bir de, hepsinin üstüne felç. Doktorlar çaresiz kalmıştı, hastalığının ne olduğunu bile bilememişlerdi. İstirahat ve perhiz, istirahat ve perhiz. Karanlıkta kardeşimin, zavallı kardeşimin yüzünü ellerimin arasında tutarken düşündüm kendi kendime, istirahat ve perhiz, bunlardan başka ne yapabilirdi zavallı adam? Bir zamanların korkulan, yüce generali, acınmak dışında her şeyi kaldıran, istirahat ediyordu ve perhiz yapıyordu, ve hâlâ inatla kötüleşiyordu. Doktorlar, bunu düşünürken irkildim, doktorları duymuştum konuşurlarken. Babama; zavallı, kardeşimden de zavallı yaşlı babama ne dediklerini duymuştum. Acısız olur, demişlerdi, kolay ve acısız, hissetmez bile. Yenemezlerdi ki oğlunun çekilmez acısını göre göre kendinden başkasını düşünmeyecek kadar bencil eski bir kralın inadını. Kardeşim, biliyorum, o da istemezdi kendisine duyulacak merhameti. Hoş, benim merhametli ellerime kalmıştı sonunda. Acısız olur ha, tabi babam biraz üzülür vakitsiz ölmüş genç bir krala, ama acısız olur. Gel de bunu canının acısından korkmayan bir generale anlat hadi! Ama ben, ben küçük, narin bir çiçeğim. Can acısından korkarım ben, en çok da... en çok da kardeşimin olan her şeye rağmen hayatta kalmasından korkarım. Kim bilir, kim bilir o zaman ne kadar yanacaktır canım!

"İyi ki duymuştum doktorları, değil mi kardeşim? Yaşamak isterdin biliyorum, ama cehennemden korkmayan sen değil miydin? Hadi, hadi bana bir iyilik yap. Bir kerecik, bir kerecik yutkunuver, ne olur. Boğazından son bir defa bir lokma geçsin, ve lokmanın zehri alsın canını. Canını, acını, ve tüm öfkeni. Ne fark eder bundan sonra! Benimdir, taç benimdir artık sevgili kardeşim!" Gülümsedim. Bir yudumcuk kan, boğazından bir damlası geçse yeter, ve ondan sonra benimdi taç. Taç, ve taht, ve tüm diğer zenginlikler, ve hele de, hele de Maria. Kardeşim yoldan çekildikten sonra benimdi, hepsi benimdi. Nazikçe, olabildiğim kadar nazik olarak açtım çenesini. Dilini tuttum ve ağzından dışarı çektim. Şişenin içindeki sıvıdan bir damlacık damlattım boğazına, ve sanki cam kırılmış gibi bir ses çıktı. Pencere sert bir rüzgarla açıldı ve dışarının soğuğu yağdı artık cansız olan kardeşimin üstüne. Yazık. Son anlarını nefretle ziyan etmişti.

Ertesi sabah Maria buldu beni. Sevgili Maria, güzeller güzeli, bir tanecik Maria, ölü kardeşime sarılarak uyuyakalmışım sandı. Merhametimi, sevgimi, sadakatimi kutsadı beni uyandırmadan önce. Taç. Biliyorum, benimdi artık taç, taht ve Maria. Kardeşimin ölüsünü bir kere daha öperek gösterdim ruhunun yokluğundan duyduğum minnettarlığı.

Sandım ki, sandım ki ve ödüm öylesine koptu ki, güneşin ışığı, ya da Maria'nin gözyaşları uyandırırdı kardeşimi derin uykusundan. Ama yok, mümkün değil. O öldü, öldü. Öldü, ve toprağın bilmem kaç kat dibine gömüldü. Evet, bulunur bulunmaz. Kimseye duyurmadan. Adlarımız aynıydı, babaminki, benimki, dedeminki ve kardesiminki, hepsi. Maria kardeşim yerine babamla evlense, tahta kardeşim yerine dedem çıksa, kimse fark etmezdi. Maria da kardeşimin babam olmadığını fark etmemişti, zavallı, benim de kardeşim olmadığımı göremedi. Kardeşimin kendi kadar zavallı, tüm hayatı kadar trajik ölümünden yalnızca birkaç gün sonra beyaz elbisesini giydi ve elimi tuttu Maria. Tahtırevana oturup gitmeden once saraya gelen misafirlerin önünde eğildik ikimiz de, ironik değil mi? İronik, ironik, ironik...

Başımda tacın ağırlığını hissettim yürürken, omzumda da Maria'nın elini. Yüzümde de yüzlerce, binlerce gözün bakışlarını gördüm, sıkı sıkı tutundum tahtıma, hakkım olan her şey benimdi artık. Elimden onları çekip alacak bir ağabey, bir kardeş yoktu artık. Gökyüzüne baktım, ah benim salak kardeşim, ruhunun yükseldiğini görüyorum. İzledikçe de içim ferahlıyor, biliyorum ki artık istesen de aşağı inemezsin. Tacı tutup yukarı uzatıyorum sanki elinle tutacakmışsın gibi, ama uzanamıyorsun. Maria'yı omzuma alıyorum, o da yukarı yukarı uzanıyor, sana uzanıyor ama bir daha ona dokunamayacaksın! Taht ise mıhlanmış zaten toprağın üzerine. Ayakların bir daha toprağa değemeyecek sevgili kardeşim! Bunlar sana son ve son sözlerim, ve artık unutuldun.

Yeni evimize gittik Maria ile ben. Beni seviyordu, seviyordu biliyorum, çünkü önce babamı, sonra kardeşimi sevmişti. Herkesi sevebilirdi o yeter ki aklına koysun. İlk gece, birlikte olduğumuz ilk gece birçok şey öğrenmiştim onun hakkında. Ellerinin ne kadar soğuk olduğu, boynunun kokusu, saçlarının yumuşaklığı... ve göğsü. Göğsü, oldukça ilgi çekiciydi. Yanlış anlamayın beni, gerçekten öyleydi. İçi boştu. Kalbinin olması gereken yerde yumruk kadar bir boşluk vardı sadece, işte öyle boştu. Bir atma sesi geliyor tabii kulağınızı dayarsanız, ama boşluktan. Başka bir açıklaması olamazdı o gece yaptıklarının. Ve o geceden sonrasının. Bir yıl, koca bir yıl boyunca verdiği tüm o korkunç, ruhsuz kararların.

Bir kere yeni kral olarak benim bile emredemediğim, buyuramadığım şeyleri öylesine rahat, öylesine rahatça emrederdi ki... Sonra, benden korkmayanlar ondan korkardı. Benim güzeller güzeli, iyi kalpli Maria'mın soğukkanlılıkla idam ettiği generallerin, ölüme yolladığı gencecik çocukların, sopa attırdığı dilencilerin haddi hesabı yoktu. Olsun, ben Maria'mı buna rağmen, damarlarından kan yerine akan bunlara rağmen sevdim. Bütün beceriksizliğine rağmen sevdim. Zehir gibi tuzladığı yemeklerine rağmen, evdeki her bir uşağa söylediği ağza alınmaz laflarına rağmen sevdim. Bencilliğine, kötülüğüne, beni zerre kadar sevmemesine, öldürdüğüm kardeşimi bir türlü, bir türlü, asla unutturmamasına rağmen, her şeyine rağmen sevdim! Yüzüme bakıp benden olan, biricik kızımıza lanet etmesine, biricik oğlumuzu bana düşman etmesine rağmen sevdim, sevdim, sevdim. Maria'm, kraliçem. Siz, siz anlamalısınız, bir insan olarak anlamalısınız öyleyse Maria'nın gözlerimin içine baka baka "Seni sevmiyorum" demesine nasıl şaşırdığımı. Orospu karı, şimdiye kadar bile bile acındırmış kendini. Bunca yıl beni hiç sevmemiş, inanabiliyor musunuz, hiç! Dahası, kardeşimi özlemiş! Kulaklarıma inanamadım. Kardeşim, ruhsuz bir pislik olan kardeşim! Korkuyu bile hissetmemiş olan kardeşim! Ama sevdi beni diyor Maria, inatla, sevdi beni! Ben de seni sevdim oysaki, nankör. Hatalısın diyor. Bağırıyor, bağırdıkça da hatamı çarpıyor yüzüme. Kardeşimin bıraktığı leke o bağırdıkça büyüyor, bütün boynumu, göğsümü kaplıyor. Bir sürü lekeyle boğuşuyor vücudum. Maria ise çığrınıyor. "Beni sevmedin" diyor, bana diyor! "Beni hiç sevmedin. Kendince kusurlar buldun ve gömdün onları, kalan yerlerimi sevdin. Başka kusurlar buldun, onları da gömdün, ve sevdin. Sen gömdükçe ben boğuldum toprağın altında, sen ise benim cansız parçalarımdan yaptığın o iğrenç porselen bebeği sevdin. Kardeşin?" Ne olmuş kardeşime, diyorum, o benden daha farklı sevmedi ki seni, nankör karı! Sana benim davrandığım kadar iyi davranmadı, asla da davranamazdı, ahmak. "O beni her şeyimle sevmişti. Bencilliğimi, kıskançlığımı sevmişti. Nankör diyorsun, hakaret ettiğini sanıyorsun ama o nankörlüğümü sevmişti, sen, sen beni hiç sevmedin! Ben de seni hiç sevmedim. Sen bir heykelle evlenemeyeceğin için benimle evlendin, ben ise kardeşinle evlenemeyeceğim için. Çocuklarını taşımak zorunda kaldığım için taşıdım, oyuncak bir bebek taşıyamayacağı için. Lanet olsun o bebeklere, senin- senin soyundan doğacak olan her bebeğe lanet olsun! Akan kanları kutsasın toprağı, gözyaşlarıyla hayat bulsun çiçekler ve yalnızca, yalnızca benim çektiğim acıyı bilsinler, sevilmemenin acısını duysunlar!"

Zavallı Maria, ne yaptığının farkında bile değildi. Seni seven birine, onun ve hatta kendinin soyuna lanet okumak, ha? Yazık. Gözlerim sararırken kolumdaki son kuvveti de harcadım, Maria'ya gitmesini işaret ettim. Anlıyorsunuz değil mi, ona karşı hissettiğim her türlü güzel duyguyu yerle bir etmişti. Kendi kendine, benim tüm çabalarıma rağmen. Kaslarımdan güç günden güne çekiliyordu, kırmızı lekeler ise tüm vücudumu sarıyordu. İstirahat ve perhiz, sonumuz aynı oldu kardeşim. Yalnız, sen korkmadan gittin, benim ise cehennemin ateşinden ödüm kopuyor. Kopuyor kopmasına, ama bulutların arasında yüzünü görmek daha çok korkutuyor beni. Son günlerim olduğunu biliyorum, çünkü senin son günlerin de böyleydi. Ve Maria benim acımı azaltacak hiçbir şey yapmıyor, hayır, hatta öyle iyi bakıyor ki bana, bu işkence daha ne kadar uzayabilir merak ediyorum. İyiye gitmiyorum, istirahat ediyorum ve perhiz yapıyorum. Maria bana çok iyi bakıyor, elleriyle beni besliyor. Gözlerimdeki tiksintiyi görmesine rağmen zorla besliyor beni. Ben ise artık yemek istemiyorum, anlıyorsunuz ya? Ama en büyük korkum her şeye rağmen hayatta kalmak. Maria, gözlerim artık görmüyor seni, ama sesin her sustuğunda sessizce dua ediyorum yanarak gebermen için. Bir kral ve karısı için ne iğrenç bir ölüm! Taç başımda, ve başımda tacım, yanımda Maria'yla, tahtımda öleceğim. İstediğim her şeye sahibim ve en azından mutlu ölmek istiyorum. Maria, seni sefil yaratık, giderken sana tüm nefretimi bırakıyorum. Felçli ağzım oynamıyor bile, ne konuşmak ne de gülmek için, ama kucağına nefretimden doğan bir çocuk bıraktım, Maria!

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