THE LAST 13 DAYS

By Andrea And

The Last 13 Days

We are human!
For the time being, we are at 6 billion!
Why are you always confronting the wrong people and why are you always the most unlucky one?

It has been said, that all over the world, 30% of the human beings are in depression. Insanity incidents are increasing more and more. Why? If you do not use the power inside you, your fears will use you. Don’t sacrifice the “free human being” side of your soul to pessimism. Who can cheat you more than yourself?
We have geniuses; angels, creators, perverts, rich men and people who are starving…

The people, who demolish a whole city in one night, attack towers with an airplane, and the ones who are chopping children to death are also one of us…
The one, who wake up one morning and shoot down the whole family, the one, who amuse themselves by nailing the head of their wardmates, the one who live locking their loved ones in a cellar and torture them, are one of us, too.

We are living with these people, dining in the same restaurant, flushing the same toilet and working together in the same office.  One of those people is may be  you boss paying your salary! Or maybe your next-door neighbour or your lover? It is possible that you get to know them as being “a little odd” or “nervous”…

Let us imagine that you love one of them very much. How much would you sacrifice from your life for your lover?
The insane are living among us. They lived in every century. Who drove them mad?
By the end of this novel, you will remember somebody around you and feel goose bumps at the back of your neck… Good Luck!

*                *              *
Despite everything, how can two “lonely” love thirsty people, stay together? Even if an emotionally disturbance is a point of issue...
       This novel was written to remind you the on who made you forget “to hope”. 
Please read it, the very familiar depressive love of Ercan and İnci will answer you.
While your belief in reality is decreasing and being in a status of feeling fear, shame, insufficient and insecure future is enhancing, you may be also become a paranoiac without you even knowing it?
       Who made you become like this?

Live like asleep, death may awaken you. Act early and wakeup before dying…

P.S.: It is recommended not to read this novel at night.

• Language: English
• Publisher: IASON BOOKS
• Release date: Nov 25, 2014
• ISBN: 9789609957908

Book preview

THE LAST 13 DAYS

The characters in this novel are entirely fictional. They don’t have any relationship with real people.

May 2006

It is hard to write the novel of love. It’s even harder to write the novel of sick love. However what’s really hard is being able to give up on love at a time when you need love most, when you realize that the love you think you have found is sick. Love doesn’t always mean sacrifice. If we try to continue a sick love relationship, we both give harm to ourselves and to other people. Don’t the sick people have the right to love and to be loved? Of course they do. They should use this right while the treatment of their sickness is going on and by telling the people they love about the problems their sickness might bring.

Dear Ayşenur Yazıcı has written the story of a man whose disease is diagnosed and a woman whose problems and needs have not been named. The writer talks about the diagnosed disease just like a doctor; tries to understand and be objective. She considers love and its outcomes from the point of view of love. However, what’s more important is that she touches you with the magic of love while standing on your feet in this world along with the facts.

––––––––

Every choice has a cost in life. This cost is paid whether or not the choice is right or wrong. Sometimes the cost of the right choices is high and we regret. However we don’t notice that the wrong choice may cost our lives. If you are reading these lines, you have also made a choice. By choosing this novel you have started to read a different and rationalistic love story. The price you will pay is that you always have a choice. This road has been opened by Ayşenur Yazıcı and what is up to you is to increase the number of these paths and think.

Prof. Dr. Bengi Semerci

Author’s Note

From time to time everybody, even the most angel-like people may have a growing sense of damaging and a revenge attack

In the fight between white and black, black pulls the soul from one side and white says Don’t do it.

The soul, which stays in between either takes other people’s revenge as a result of years of being pushed aside or other unknown things or it withdraws itself as to be introverted and continues to think.

The hurting grows and forms a huge pile of pride and pain on top of a volcano. A time comes and the pressure of those piles cannot hold the lava back and the lava sets off its journey as to even burn the people who have no sin. Both the mountain burns and its surroundings... In fact the fire learns to heat first, before it burns. If only we didn’t forget that we are the master of our thoughts!

With thanks to my life friends who are a part of my given life, who have been chosen by God for me and whom I have met by coincidence. I have met those people, because it was meant to be and they joined my life, because I wanted them to. I would like to thank to those life friends of mine, who syringed me the love of life when I lost my belief in people and did whatever they could to make it worse, when I am very happy....

If you weren’t there, thinking and writing novels would not be so curing for my soul.

I thank God for you and I thank a thousand times for your desires, choices, knives, virtues, cruelness, wide opened arms, compassion and friendship...

Ayşenur Yazıcı

May 2006

All the wounds that are left in the human soul enter the soul through the same tunnels.

No matter where someone is living, the compassion need of the soul, the feeling of protectedness and happiness are all hidden in the same needs.

You may either be a local of a tribe living in a forest or a black in Manhattan or a businesswoman in Turkey.

The resentments that take away the peace within, having been deceived many times and the mistakes all hurt one place: the Soul!

The humanity is actually enlightened by God’s own light. However since the humans have been relating their lives to money, they have only recently realized that new painful tunnels have been opening up inside their souls.

In order to be able to stand up, one has to know how to make use of the given gift.

The voice behind the wall repeated as if whispering:

You are a queer...You are a queer...You don’t have the bid of manhood anymore...

He was feeling nauseated and felt like urinating all over the hallway. He saw that his urine turned into gas and with the one match he lighted, everywhere turned into hell.

From where the flames rose, tiny female creatures came out climbing on walls. While shaking their breast they were getting stuck on the ceiling as if it was sticky. As the flames rose up to the ceiling, the tiny women were melting within the paintings of the wall.

His jaw began to shake again. The voice continued with an authoritative voice tone:

You don’t have the bid of manhood anymore, scumbag!

In the hallway leading to the maid’s room, there was detergent scent coming out from the newly washed laundry in the laundry room which was on the side. Well shaped male feet walked lurching through the hallway. He entered the room and closed the door silently. It was almost morning. The woman opened her eyes sensing somebody’s presence in the room.

She didn’t move until the tire sound of a car passing by the house went away! Because of her heavy heart beats, the blanket over her chest was moving up and down! Her fastening heart beats, which she felt first on her neck and then in her ears filled the entire room. When her eyes got used to the darkness, a tall, well-built man figure appeared nearby her. Her voice came out of her throat as if coming out of a sizzling radio.

Who is there? Mr. Ercan?

The shadow didn’t answer, but leaned against her. When she opened her mouth to shout, a hand forced her lips down against her teeth. One of the man’s large, soft-skinned hands grasped her hair from its roots. He was pulling her hair back with one hand, while the other hand was applying such great pressure as to break her neck over her mouth, making her mouth bleed. Against the man’s heaviness, her ribs were applying pressure to her lungs. She couldn’t breath. She fluttered. When the man understood that the woman was about to suffocate, his sour alcohol smelling breath approached her face.

Don’t you ever shout, I’ll kill you. I’m leaving your mouth. If you shout, you die! Understand?

The woman shook her head meaning O.K. The hand covering her mouth slowly lifted. It was heard that she took a deep breath. The man uncovered the blanket to the side without lifting his hand, which was grasping the woman’s hair.

Don’t you keep moving. I’ll smash your head apart with one blow of the fist. Take off your panties!

The woman wanted to cry out when she heard the splitting sound of her hair, which fell down from her temples. A slap fell upon her face! The tension on her head skin turned into an unbearable pain. The tears dropping from her eyes through her ears got lost in the curl of her ears.

I don’t have panties! she whispered in pain.

The man let go of the woman’s hair and sat down upon her as if riding a horse. He began to tear apart the nightgown pulling to different sides with his two hands. The bed was shaking because of the shaking of the completely naked body. The sound of the tearing of the fabric hit the wall and vibrated inside the room. A small creature ran under the bed and the man heard a mocking laughter. The woman couldn’t breathe enough of oxygen because of her fear. Her tears again fell into her ears. Her ear channel was full. She began to hear sounds less. On her left cheek, she felt a flaming burn. She could still feel the taste of the fresh blood that dropped from the side of her mouth on her tongue. The smell of the male lotion, tar and sour alcohol made her feel like throwing up. When the woman got nauseous, the giant body on her abdomen muscles was moving up, but wasn’t letting her to turn aside. The vomit spurt out of her mouth, filled inside her nose, dropped to her shoulders from her cheeks. In between the attacks of nausea and coughing she was trying to breathe and to understand the strange sentences the man was uttering. While the man was talking to himself with meaningless half sentences with words that do not complete each other, he was trying to spread the woman’s legs.

You scumbags also have diseases... You’ll forget this too tomorrow... Let me see you. Move your hips to right and left...

Two female creatures with lilac colored skins and horse feet tried to squeeze by the mattress in order to watch the scene. The man hurled a slap with the back of his hand. The creature fell on the floor.

. The woman had crossed her arms over her breast and clamped her legs. She was shivering as if she was frozen. When a punch hit her jaw, which was so slippery because of vomit, a sound like the blowing of a play ball came out. One of her teeth close to her lip got broken and warm, salty blood began to flow from her neck down to the pillow.

Spread your legs piece of dirt. I said spread!

Her legs weren’t parting... Her entire body was so solid like she was wearing a founded iron sheath. Her joints were close connected, her muscles were stock-still; she was shaking with shiverings.

When the man punched a blow to the midst of her tummy, she closed down to her legs with a bellowing sound, and turned to the side! While the woman was groaning in the position of an embryo, the man began to breathe in and out with a wheezy sound. He put the torn nightgown over her neck and tied it in a knot from under her kneecaps... The woman wasn’t able to move anymore. She didn’t have enough power to move either...She heard the sound of torn paper in the darkness. It was as if she had heard it in a dream. She shivered with a sharp pain in her anus. It was as though a knife was tearing apart some place inside her tummy as the penis hit her from the edge of her spine and as the muscled hairy leg moved. 

She tried to open her eyes. As the sun began to rise, the light that beamed through the side of the window lit half of the face of a man in a hardly visible way. His eyes were half open and his chin was turned to the other side. The man was grumbling:

I’m going from deep inside... See, I’m going into the depths...I’ll buy the last textile factory in your region... What had Baltaci Mehmet Pasha said? Your sister didn’t say the same thing though...

The woman didn’t feel anything in her body anymore. She didn’t feel the split in the pouch of her cheek, her moving teeth, the fracture in her jaw, the bleeding and the aching in her vagina, the rip inside her anus or the goose bump skin left on her nape after the snapping of her hair. She didn’t feel anything anymore. After the adrenalin crisis, a sleepy condition had begun to move inside her veins. Her head was spinning. She felt nothing but that warm sleepiness being delivered to her body, which felt like the compassion of a mother... It was as though her entire body was anesthetized and she was watching what was happening, like it was happening in someone else’s body.

Before the man left the room he collected the seven condoms on the floor and threw them into the waste basket.

The call to the prayer was heard from a mosque that was somewhere far away. The headlights of the trucks loaded with bread and newspapers began to lighten the streets; the rolling shutters of the stores began to get opened; people began to wait at the bus stops with their sleeves up smoking the first cigarette of the day; tea began to boil in the teapots in the kitchens. The city was waking up to another ordinary day.

When Doctor Mehmet was brought to the house by the rapist, it was 12 hours after the rape.

Mehmet, it’s between us as always, isn’t it? These women are always the same. They flirt saying that they would do anything for a couple dimes, but then they turn out weak.

Sir, you have roughed up the woman really bad! They can’t raise their voice because they are staying in the country as fugitives, but one of them will drive crazy one day and then we won’t be able to get out of this trouble that easily.

Come on, my doctor. How can she prove it? They forget everything when they get the money; they are used to it. You just check on her. She probably doesn’t have anything important. I left your money on the table. I have to go out. You know, I have got work to do.

All right, Mr. Ercan. Don’t worry. Have a good day, sir.

* * *

It would make a real good horror movie script, if she had listed up what she has been going through for the last two weeks. At the beginning of the weak she had dropped her house keys to the grating before the garage exit. On the way back from shopping her purse was stolen. When she was meditating the wardrobe’s door had opened all by itself. When she had come home at midnight, she had found that her house was flooded. The raw material that they have been importing for four years had began to rotten at the customs due to the change in the related statement. It seemed like there were strange warnings in her life.

Since she had embraced tolerance in order to use the universe’s energy in the human body and to understand unconditional love, these coincidences have been following one after another.

After the Reiki courses she took four years ago, it was as though all these were laid aside one after another for her by a secret hand. However, İnci had no time to think about these now. While trying to button up her pink silk blouse with one hand, she was trying to wear the shoe, which matched her checkered suit without running her stocking.

She glanced at her make up, which she carefully put on her face. With a quick move she erased the line of the colorful eyeliner which had formed lilac-colored rings on her brown eyes. She checked on the export permittance documents she would take to Ankara once again.

When she was placing her icy pink colored purse’s thin strap to her shoulder, she raised the phone:

Please send a taxi to Crown Plaza residence number 36. İnci Berkman.

She took her beige colored long leather raincoat from the cloakroom. When she pressed the button of the elevator with which she would go 18 floors down, the taxi had already arrived at the door.

Inside the studio of İnci, the door of which she had closed and left, there was still the scent of her perfume, that filled the chest with white flower odor, while the first light rays of the day were lighting Istanbul.

In the hall the couple unorganized cushions, the wine glass and the plate full of dried tomatoes on the coffee table left over from the night before were the traces of an unmatched life-style with the Indian artwork curtains and the 14th Lui style lampshade.  The most cheerful traces of peace and plainness were the hundreds of angel figures all over the house! On the walls, on the coffee tables, in the hallway and in the bathroom there were more than a hundred silent guests, which didn’t move, but gave away love with their figures. After seeing Raffaello’s painting in which two innocent angels were waiting to make some goodness, İnci had carried her fearlessness of death from her inner world into her life. She was giving home to hundreds of angel figures, candles, curios, and paintings, which she had collected from all over the world in order to say good morning in the mornings and good night in the evenings.

In her house there was the strange smell of living alone. This smell was only the smell of the female traces. However the traces of a strong and clever woman! Inside the place, there was neither a shaving lotion, cigar nor a photo that belonged to a male. It had been 6 years since she had broken up with her husband. They hadn’t got kids. In fact they hadn’t got the time to think about kids, while trying to build steps for the future. They were still young. When İnci had been so successful at foreign trade, instead of feeling proud that she was making more money than him, Orhan had begun to torture her with insults. Instead he would go through her phone and began asking questions like, How do you know this man? more often. They had a so called friendly break up in order to go on with their lives in their own ways. She still kept his last email:

"As a reply to your mail called ‘To You’, but which I haven’t read. I had said Good-bye, but I think I haven’t been able to make it clear. I’m a patient person. You however, will probably keep this mail as a mail of threat, and I will laugh...Only a plea note: please don’t reach me via e-mail, telephone or whatever it is. Stay away from me O.K.? I don’t have anything to do with you until the end of my life. You’re responsible from your life and I’m responsible from mine. Be as you wish, but only keep far away from me. That’s all my wish and plea. I’m after what I told you, it’s not an insult. Our ancestors say, I would have an enemy like a lion,