Kerem Mermutlu.
March 2010
“You burn like a bright dying star.”
—Kerem Mermutlu
“I followed you until I had no more breath.”
—Kerem Mermutlu
Short Story Number Forty Three
As usual, he was sitting on his bed looking out of the window. Rain was falling on to the street in big hard drops. The clouds were moving quickly. He watched.
He loved the rain. He loved the clouds. He loved the street.
After a while he tried to look away from the window. To look at something else. He tried to remember that he had things to do, plans to make, food to eat, he tried to remember that he had to get on with his life.
But for the rest of his life he sat there. Whenever the rain would stop, he keep looking to make sure it would come again.
(My free ebook of collected stories is getting hungry and wants to be read! It will be available soon. Sign up at my blog for a copy!)
“It seems to me more and more clear that the only honest people are the artists.”
—Virginia Woolf (via awritersruminations) (via booklover) (via mrscupcakeman)
“We are ready for the world.
We are full of bravery and hope and we are bright like the brightest thing in the world.” —Kerem Mermutlu
We are full of bravery and hope and we are bright like the brightest thing in the world.” —Kerem Mermutlu
I love your stories, and have to say because i am that much of a nerd, that i am so happy i found a tumblr who actually has legitimate writing in their blog.kudos kudos
thank you so much!! I’m really happy you like them, and that you took the time to write to me. As well as my ebook i will be doing a hardback book with my artist friend Mat Collier who will do the illustations. Again, thanks for reading!
Short Story Number Forty Two
I stood there waiting for the sun to arrive. I had been up all night and I needed to see the sun. I waited.
My head was full of big things that were starting to hurt. Cars drove past me. I saw a cat.
All i knew as i stood there was that i had to see the sun. If i saw it, then everything would turn out OK. Everything would last and nothing would change too quickly ever again. I waited. I saw another cat. More cars drove past.
You always said that this was how i would end up. Before you left me, you said that i would be like a ghost waiting for something stupid to arrive.
(My free Ebook of collected stories is on its way! Sign up for a copy at my blog!)
“We wondered into each other like bits of broken dust.”
—Kerem Mermutlu
Short Story Number Forty One
She tries very hard to read, but next door people are banging. They are banging on boxes and on ceilings and on floors and on walls. She puts the book down and stares at her legs. The banging stops and then starts. She hears shouting. Then the banging starts again.
The banging is like the heart beat of an old person, she thinks. A strong old person who will never give up.
She stands and puts her ear next to the wall. She feels the vibrations. She likes the way they are nice and real and full of force. For the rest of the day she stands there.
(My free Ebook of collected stories is nearly nearly nearly here! Sign up for a copy at my blog!)
“It’s not books you need, it’s some of the things that once were in books. The same things could be in the “parlour families” today. The same infinite detail and awareness could be projected through the radios and televisors, but are not. No, no, it’s not books at all you’re looking for! Take it where you can find it, in old phonograph records, old motion pictures, and in old friends; look for it in nature and look for it in yourself. Books were only one type of receptacle where we stored a lot of things we were afraid we might forget. There is nothing magical in them at all. The magic is only in what books say, how they stitched the patches of the universe together into one garment for us.”
—Ray Bradbury, Fahrenheit 451 (via colporteur) (via quote-book) (via misa-xx)
Short Story Number Forty.
He closes his eyes and puts his lips next to her ear and whispers. She listens. She tries to understand. She wants to know his secrets.
After about twenty seven seconds he has said everything that has meant anything to him. He has said everything that he’s kept inside him, that’s been held hostage inside him, and now he is empty.
A plane flies over them. The night is getting closer. They are running out of time.
He opens his eyes and stares at her ear.
It’s the most beautiful ear in the world, he thinks.
(My free Ebook of collected stories is getter closer! Sign up at my blog for a copy!)
“I’m holding on to everything because i need to.”
—Kerem Mermutlu
