Editor's note: this fictional work contains scenes of fictional incest or fictional incest content.
*****
Thanks for edit by Kenji Sato.
Metin had come here to take care of the shabby furniture and other household items of his late grandfather's village house. This rundown house, where his father was born and raised, held many memories for his father, but unfortunately he could not come due to illness--all these dirty and drudgery works were left to his son, the grandson. Of course, those who came from the village to offer condolences were another problem. As if he didn't have enough problems.
He would give the things to the old man tidy up, lock the door and go back to the city where he lived.Most of the work was finished.He sold everything except the old embroidered chest and his grandfather's rocking chair.He took the key from the oil lamp hanging on the wall and squatted next to the chest.He couldn't bear to give it to the old man. Then, he finally opened it. Inside, he found old booties, a kerosene lamp, some black and white pictures.
He smiled when he remembered the good times he had spent with his grandfather. He was emptying the chest of items, one by one. At the bottom, he found something that looked like a book with its black, worn leather. It was something not very thick but heavy.Carefully untying the strings, he lifted off the black leather cover; these pages were not paper.There were pale writings written on the leather.
It was something like a historical letter.Metin lit a cigarette and sat down he took the first page and began to read...
If you have found what I wrote, don't call me, don't try to find it.
Most of you will not believe what I am going to tell you now and you may even think 'who is this crazy person?'
What year do you live in now?
In the summer of 1960,I was born in one of the rural areas of a country that was very worn out due to the wars, and left far behind the rest of the world. My family was made up of farmers--we made our living from the crops we harvested from the field, and from the animals we kept. My father and mother had become two old people, whose faces were full of sadness and fatigue. They had wasted their youth in order to take care of their five children--two girls and three boys. At the end of the day, the stove in our little house would light up, and we would fall asleep together with happy loving smiles.