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Deniz Keleş


Once upon a night, Karl Benson left the comfort of his estate to go look for it. There is a town, up in the northern regions of a country. Its name deserves no mention here for it will not be helpful to anyone.

It was a cold September’s night when it began, or perhaps it was back. From your perspective, there is no real way of knowing, believe me though, there are times when one would regret knowledge and ignorance may truly turn out to be bliss. The town’s folk were asleep. Karl too was sleeping. I remember he had the most peculiar dream that night, of a strange stranded place with a barren, lifeless terrain and a fiddling, dilapidated shack in the middle of it. For most people, it would have looked like an awful, infernal place, I suppose, for him though, it somehow resembled some form of a rapture, but not the incorruptible rapture; I wish he were able to be more resilient to its attraction… Me on the other hand, I was different by then; I had no idea what was about to happen, and now I know too much, I know it all, there is no knowledge or information I lack. Yet even I am not completely impeccable; you will see why.

Hypocrisy does not only occur in vile places or during hard times; it is as much part of the human life as sleeping or eating. A man who throws his unfinished cigarette out of his car and proceeds to clean the car’s dashboard is a hypocrite to both himself and to the planet, yet he feels no guilt. We take actions based on their future implications for our lives and if the implication is not positive, we try to avoid doing it, at least in most cases. I had no hatred for that driver when he did what he judged to be reasonable; he could not have cleaned his dashboard with a cigarette in his hand, could he? Neither could he have killed the poor lad without the gun under the dashboard.

Too quick? Should I have waited? Were you not ready to hear that?

I am afraid there is not really a method of telling something that happens so swiftly in a gentle way. Yet you want to know, do you not? You accept murder to be tragic, a deceitful inhuman act most of you would say; still, you seek details about it. Don’t bother to question your rationalization for it, there can’t be any solid reason for that. Perhaps there is if you are ...


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Keleş, D. (2019). DOWNFALL. Journal of English Language and Literature Club, 1(1), 13-18. Retrieved from