Dragon Drinking Milk

By Atemi Kayaky

We are faced with an industrialization phenomenon that makes itself felt in literature as well as in every other subject. The reshaping of literature according to the conditions of market capitalism turns literary products into simple consumables. Newly released literary novels, stories, poems, essays, etc. literary products no longer have an artistic quality, they are consumed quickly and resemble Hollywood movies…

 

Identical, fabricated books adorn the shelves of the bookstore. We are faced with books that appeal to the eye, not to the pleasure of reading. Every day, we are showered with novels whose content resembles a movie script, and the most popular ones are immediately adapted to the cinema. Their styles, plots and even the subjects themselves are extremely superficial, identical books are everywhere.

 

There are quite a few pages in such works, but it is possible to read and finish them in a short time. We would like to say that the reason for this is that it is written in a successful language. However, if we consider that the majority of the people who read these books find it boring and they find it boring, this is not the main reason. The main reason is that in such industrial novels, whether it is character analysis, description of environment and events, a very superficial work is done. Writers don't think about these things. Because – a group of authors should be excluded from this – what is important for authors now is the sales figures and the amounts they will earn, rather than the literary and aesthetic characteristics of their works.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Atemi Kayaky
• Release date: Sep 9, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201150778

Book preview

Atemi Kayaky

ISBN: XXXXXXXXX

Atemi Publishing 2018 

*****one*****

Dragon Drinking Milk (Part 1)

Kemal Agca

Jan 5, 2020 - 12:46

4 min reading time

54

0

It was a time when televisions were not installed in the corners of the houses and took the place of grandparents. In a house in a neighborhood called distorted settlement today, where dozens of families living in them are not unaware of each other, and ugly reinforced concrete apartments with big and cold faces are not erected; The grandfather, who was sitting on the sofa at the head of the ring where the house and the children of the neighbors were sitting in rows on the carpet, was telling the children, whose faces were tense with curiosity and amazement, a fairy tale where they would welcome another guest in the dream world they had set up behind their wide-open eyes. The children memorized what the grandfather told with great care, and they literally lived by interpreting them word for word in their imaginations. The most boring part of any fairy tale by children, the end, had come. However, fairy tales should never end, they should last forever and be listened to.

Daddy Hasan, please tell me one more time.

Yes, grandpa, what about another one?

After taking off his glasses, Grandpa reached for a glass of water on the coffee table next to him. Apparently he was tired, but at the same time, a sign of happiness was born on his face with the cuteness he saw on the faces of these curious little ones.

I will tell you later, insha Allah. That's enough for now guys.

Gamze, the granddaughter of Hasan grandfather, felt the need to share her last-minute progress with her grandfather, as a news reporter, after the fairy tale they had heard.

Dede Mahmut and Sibel saw a dragon. It was just like you told in the fairy tale.

Dede couldn't help but smile and looked at the children with a small laugh. Their eyes were so innocent, so full of wonder and wonder that, far from lying, they showed that they believed with their whole being what they saw or thought they saw. He suddenly remembered his own childhood. And since he knows that a child's imagination is full of vast valleys, he should not be able to digest rejection altogether, assuming that children see something and come to this conclusion or convince themselves that what they see is that thing:

My son, dragons are fairy-tale creatures. So there is no evidence that they actually lived. Even if they did, they probably lived thousands of years ago. Maybe what you saw was something else. said.

The children did not object to what the grandfather said. Mahmut bowed slightly and looked at Sibel. When their eyes met, We saw it, is it a lie? It was just like he said. they looked like. Mahmut was the eldest son of Manav Ahmet, two houses away. He was a seven-year-old, brown-haired and slightly chubby boy. Sibel was his sister, who was two years younger than him. He had a gray teddy bear that he never parted with him. He always dressed his teddy bear in girls' clothes. His older brother dressed him as a warrior. They would line up the other toys in a row like the enemy and perform games that would look like gladiator fights with the wooden sword tied to one of the teddy's paws with a rope. The two children's different interpretations of the teddy bear was the only reason for their fight.

While Dede was going out holding his walking stick in one hand and his waist in the other, saying that he would do ablution, the children stood up to disperse to their homes. The snow, which started in the afternoon, did not stop, it continued to fall, dancing and spiraling as if to herald that tomorrow would be a fun day.

The ten or twelve children were sent together to the black stone-paved courtyard of the house, and from there, through the wooden street door, to their house in the same row. With their rubber boots, pale-colored jackets, and the swaying tassels of their scarves around their mouths, they soon disappeared into the snow that turned into a blizzard, and they returned to their home, where they had a warm wood and coal burning stove. The next night, they would enter the fairy tale world that Hasan grandfather would open his door, and they would have fun as they wished and encounter a thousand and one different things that would captivate their amazement...

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*****2nd*****

Finding Elif

Fadime Cetinkaya

Dec 1, 2019 - 13:48

8 min reading time

130

0

one

He was sitting on the steps of a huge building that was flashing with colorful lights, and he was just looking left and right. Apart from the clock ticking in his ears from time to time, he heard other noises that made him uneasy, and this bothered him very much. Because he couldn't help paying attention to strange sounds that he couldn't quite understand. Those damned voices were echoing in his head. On the one hand, he was hitting his head saying enough with his left hand, and on the other hand, he was counting things with the fingers of his right hand.

One, two, three four, it's not gone again one, two, three...

It was beating fast, as if his heart had been dislodged and was falling from the top floor of that building. As he tried to breathe, the sounds he heard prevented him and became narrower.

At one point he stood up and started walking from that huge street to a narrow street. While thinking, How narrow are these streets like this, he caught sight of the Lights leaking from the windows of the houses to the street. The shadows of light seemed to be fighting with each other.

While all this was going on, the most interesting thing was the rain of letters from the sky instead of rain. He stunned, picked up a few letters he could muster and sat in a corner. He arranged the letters on the stones of the street pavement at once. Be a servant! He was writing, what the hell was that? What did this mean Be a servant...

He closed his eyes, which were wide open with amazement, by the sound that gnawed at his ears. He wanted this torture to end, let it end...

But the voices he heard were getting louder. It was as if someone were saying run to him among those complex voices. He immediately got up and followed this command and started running in the narrow street. He ran and ran and finally came to a dead end street with huge walls in front of it. Moreover, it was as if these walls, which exceeded his height, were coming towards him. The running sound he heard, be a servant! He stood there with his letters