Not as Nations: Inspired by a True Story

By Jeannette Kloet, Rebekah Hay and Mark Yildizcan

Not as Nations is based on true events and tells the story of a Kurd (Murat) determined to bring justice to his sister’s killer, whoever that may be. Throughout his journey Murat encounters one setback after another until he finally realizes that “right” is relative and, in war, everyone loses. The script’s strengths lie in its subtleties of character and story, and it is culturally relevant to today’s political environment as it explores the hypocrisy of war fought for the sake of peace.

Ultimately, this script has significant potential (both financial and otherwise), especially on the film festival circuit.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Sep 15, 2018
• ISBN: 9781984544957

Book preview

Copyright © 2018 by Rebekah Hay, Mark Yildizcan and Jeannette Kloet.

Library of Congress Control Number:   2018909164

ISBN:                Hardcover                          978-1-9845-4493-3

                          Softcover                            978-1-9845-4494-0

                          eBook                                  978-1-9845-4495-7

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Rev. date: 11/20/2018

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CONTENTS

Gaziantep, Turkey, 1991

Şemdinli, Turkey

Syria

Bekaa Valley, Lebanon

Istanbul, Turkey

Synopsis

When a 20-something Kurd loses his young sister in a shooting, he embarks on a journey to solve the mystery of her death, only to find the answer that he never anticipated.

Gaziantep, Turkey, 1991

Inside Murat’s home, smiles, laughter, and food are everywhere. A mishmash of scrawled papers form a Congratulations! sign along one wall.

Music plays as men and women perform a celebratory dance around the bride (in her twenties) and groom (also in his twenties) in a large room.

Murat (twenty-three), handsome but with a perpetual scowl, holds aloft an overloaded tray of empty plates and cups. He balances the tray in one hand as he clears and cleans a side table amid the din of the party.

Murat’s mother (in her forties) rushes forward and takes the tray and slaps his hand. Not at your sister’s wedding, Murat. This is not the café, and you are not working. Sit, she says in her Kurdish accent.

Murat takes a seat near the front door and watches.

Lale (twelve), Murat’s little sister, approaches and whispers in his ear.

Murat looks across the room and sees a girl (eighteen) grinning at him. He scowls at Lale and claps when the dancers finish. Murat pushes the door open and wedges it open with a newspaper. He lights a cigarette and blows smoke out into the street. He sees Sepan (in his sixties), a rag of a man, hunched in the doorway next door, with a smirk at Murat.

Lale bounces into view.

Murat says, Go away, Lale.

Lale laughs. No. She sits in the doorway in front of him.

They stare at each other.

Murat asks, What do you want?

She’s not that bad.

Murat turns away from her.

And she’s pretty, Lale adds.

Yeah, if I only ever have to look at her, we’ll be all right.

She backhands his arm. She’s never going to love you if you think of her that way.

When are you going to get it? I don’t care who loves me. Murat gives Lale a heavy look.

She raises an eyebrow. ‘I don’t care who loves me’?

There is silence between them. Murat’s lips purse together; he tries not to smile. Then they burst out laughing.

Lale says, She’ll be a good friend to you.

Murat replies, I have friends.

Not since before you left for the military.

Okay, then I don’t need friends.

Everyone needs friends, and everyone needs to be loved. So get over yourself.

Murat levels a glare at her. Lale.

Never mind. She pulls a folded piece of paper from her pocket and hands it to him. I wrote another poem for you.

Great. I’ll just add it to the pile.

Lale grins as Murat opens the paper.

Murat reads, Safety comes when you are near. / That’s how I know to fear the world. / Peace endures when you look at me. / That’s how I know to bear my pain. / Hope swells when I see you smile. / That’s how I know about despair. / Love sings when I think of you. / That’s how I know that you are mine. / I love you, Murat.

He looks up to Lale.

She beams.

Murat praises her. Wow.

Lale answers, You can pay me with candy.

He smiles and pulls her into a hug. This will have to do.

She smiles, contented.

Murat kisses her temple and pushes her away. Now get lost.

Lale laughs and stands tall in the doorway, arms outstretched. She shouts to the bride over the din of the celebration, Merdan! Did you see? There’s hope for him yet! She dances in the doorway the celebratory dance.

Murat smiles and blushes.

Suddenly, shots are fired. People scream. Murat ducks behind the wall. More shots echo and smack into the dirt at the edge of the doorway. Murat cowers under his arms. One final shot pops. Murat listens to the eerie silence. He peers out the doorway and notices men with guns drag Sepan’s body into a truck and speed away. Murat looks back from the street, and his gaze sets.

Lale lies there with a slight smile in his direction.

He sighs with relief. I thought—

Lale’s expression is frozen—that smile, the unseeing eyes on him. Blood oozes out from under her white dress.

Murat watches. Waits. A clock ticks once,