ANGEL DIARIES
BABYLONIAN SPELL -Read Sample
Author: Arzu Gokyolcu
Edıtor: Charley Reads
Layout and cover desıgn: Emirhan Sarıca
Isbn: 978-1-915922-40-3
This novel was published by Alfa Publishing/Mona Book in
Istanbul as a traditional publishing in 2018,
translated into English by the author. Edited by Charley Read
Our life will be heaven when we learn that different voices enrich us.
‘‘atû mê petâ bābka petâ bābka-ma lūruba anāku umma lā tapattâ bābu lā erruba anāku amahhaṣ daltum sikkūru ašabbir amahhaṣ sippū-ma ušbalakkat dalāti ašabbir gišrinam-ma aša[hhaṭ k]arra
ušellâ mītūti ikkalū balṭūti eli balṭūti ima’’idū mītūti’’
‘‘O gatekeeper! Open your gate for me, open your gate, that I may enter! If you do not open the gate, that I may enter, I will break down the door, I will smash the bolt, I will break down the frame, I will topple the doors. I will break the …, I will tear off the knob. I will raise up the dead so that they devour the living,and the dead will outnumber the living.”
Ištar’s Descent to the Netherworld, lines 1-125
“No matter how long and complicated it is, every destiny actually contains only one moment: the moment when man realizes whohe is! … It repeats endlessly in eternity, which happens once in time.
I have read that all the events that can happen to a person from the moment of birth to his death are predetermined by himself. So; every negligence was thought in advance, every coincidental encounter was an appointment, every humiliation was a repentance, every failure was a secret victory, every death was a suicide … ”
Jorge Luis Borges
I laid a snare for you, O Babylon,
and you were caught before you knew it.
You were found and captured
because you challenged the LORD.
Hebrew Bible / Jeremiah 50:24‘Say, ˹O Prophet,˺ “I seek refuge in the Lord of humankind,
The Master of humankind,
the God of humankind,
From the evil of the sneaking /lurking whisperer,
Who whispers into the hearts of humankind—
from among jinn and humankind.”
Surah An-Nas-Quran“To exceed the seven levels of the Sky /Throne and reach God,
Do you want to rewrite your destiny?
Well, who can reach God? Who can touch the book of destiny?
Owner of hands away from sin
Is there only one like this in the world? “
A quote from the ancient manuscript.
DARK NIGHT OF THE SOUL.
Looking at the pictures with hateful disgust, Melisa turned another page of the History of Tortures booklet.
“… In this method of execution, victims were hung upside down and separated into two with the help of a
saw while they were conscious. The method has been used in Asian and European history. The reason the victims are hung upside down is that blood rushes into the brain so that they feel the pain more when they are slaughtered alive. In the Middle Ages, criminals were humiliated and punished with this method!’’
A murder committed twenty-four hours ago brought her to the pages of this book. It was a long and sickening journey. Why would anyone do such a thing? What was the reason for this murder? She muttered to herself as she read, and her cigarette, which she still hadn’t lit, swung from side to side on her lips.
There were various reasons for murder. But in general, these would be mundane and predictable: money, love,
jealousy, revenge … No matter how complicated it may seem, the reasons would hardly change. Melisa was weary of it even when she was listing them in her mind. She faced such cases with the boredom of people doing the same job every day. In general, these were cases that were easily resolved. Still, everybody experienced those feelings; why would some people resort to murder because of them? What kind of gene, or what missing link of evolution makes people do horrible things to other people?
“Homo sapiens … the intelligent species of the human species …” she wrote in her notebook. She opened parentheses and added like a scientist who had found something new:
“Master Killers …”
………………………
Yet she had found something that excited even her in this murder: something extraordinary, some kind of originality, and dedication… Of course, she had not yet told anyone about her strange enthusiasm, and she would not.
It was the first time she had encountered such a crime scene. The moment she saw the victim, who was tied up at the ankle and hung upside down, or rather the left side of the victim, as they’d been cut vertically, her stomach churned. She was now trying to keep the image out of her mind, which was a weakness, like an embarrassing memory. She cursed as if the stench still lingered in her nose. The cigarette in her mouth fell onto her bed and settled on the white sheet. “There isn’t even half the man!” she said, filled with rage and fear at the thought of what people could do to each other, and frowned as usual. Deep grooves in the middle of her forehead were owed to this habit.
She got printouts of medieval executions from the internet and, after throwing the booklet about torture onto
her bed, she started looking at the crime scene photos, again spread out on her bed. She had forgotten how many times she’d looked at them. Lines of disgust mixed with pity on her face and then quickly disappeared. She grabbed the cigarette that fell on the bed and fastened it back between her lips. She bit the end; if she concentrated on the cigarette, she could almost ignore the burning in her stomach – almost, but not quite.
“Hanging upside down… tied with a thick thread at the
left ankle.
The rope is quite thick. A steel hook suspended from
the ceiling. An abandoned derelict church. Just outside of town.”
…………………………………………………………………………..
Her eyes darkened because of the brutality, though she had seen evil countless times before, as she read what was
written on the sticky yellow note papers affixed to the photographs. Her stomach shook. Even the cigarette wasn’t helping anymore. But she would resist. Although her dizziness made it difficult, she stubbornly continued her struggle against her body.
She stood up, went to the bathroom, and splashed her face with cold water. She looked in the mirror. Her bloodshot
green eyes showed the toll the visions and insomnia took on her. The thought of breaking the mirror crossed her mind.
Instead, she wiped her face with a towel. She immediately returned to the bedroom, and this time, she lit the cigarette. She threw the lighter onto the nightstand next to her and, ignoring the sound of the lighter hitting the nightlight, she continued to look at the photographs strewn across the bed.
Half an hour passed, and she lit another cigarette. In her research in police archives, she hadn’t encountered any
similar murders that had happened before. That uneasy line formed under her lips again. “There isn’t even half the man!” she repeated once more. As she looked through the pages of the History of Tortures pamphlet, her mind was preoccupied; she wondered whether the criminals or their punishers were more murderous.
The coroner said that this brutality took place after the victim was killed. He’d seemed excited, as if he was explaining something she didn’t already know.
“If it was done while the heart was beating, it would be bloody everywhere, as the heart still pumps blood.”
The symmetrical structure of the human body meant that the killer had been able to split it in half so precisely.
“This is laser work,” someone had suggested an idea, with a dirty grin. Melisa had stared at him for a few seconds without even a single gesture on her face, and she’d really enjoyed watching his disgusting grin disappear rapidly. She wouldn’t tell anyone about that either.
