One Great Short Story To Read Today: Oğuz Atay’s “the Forgotten”

According to nan powers that beryllium (er, apparently according to Dan Wickett of nan Emerging Writers Network), May is Short Story Month. To celebrate, for nan third twelvemonth successful a row, nan Literary Hub unit will beryllium recommending a azygous short story, free* to publication online, each (work) time of nan month. Why not publication on pinch us? Today, we recommend:

Oğuz Atay, “The Forgotten”

This communicative is from past year’s fantabulous Waiting for nan Fear, a postulation of stories afloat of Atay’s dreamy and sardonic humor. His characters thin to beryllium connected nan fringes aliases retired connected a limb, and are often caught betwixt nan absurd and nan real—it tin beryllium difficult to show really overmuch of what they’re narrating is successful their head, aliases not.

In “The Forgotten,” a female climbs into a acheronian attic searching for a container of books and makes a startling discovery—I won’t spoil  it for you. It’s a horrible sight, but she meets it pinch comparative calm, and moreover arsenic nan communicative continues to delve deeper into nan unusual and macabre, Atay writes nan woman’s introspection pinch a surreal detachment. It’s a funny communicative woven retired of a grisly situation, and we’re near wondering astir her overseas reactions that oscillate betwixt expected and selfish: what is going connected successful this attic and what, if anything, has she done?

The communicative begins:

“I’m successful nan attic, dear!” she called down done nan scuttle hole. “Old books are worthy a batch of money these days, I wanted to return a look.” Did he perceive what I conscionable said? “It’s acheronian up there; wait, I’ll get you a flashlight.” Good then; it’ll beryllium a calm day. Someone utilized to show maine that I perpetually needed attention. What I request now is simply a reflector that shows maine smiling back; not to mention immoderate light. “You’re going to wounded yourself successful nan dark.” A manus roseate up done nan hole, holding a flashlight. The beam strayed towards an quiet area and lit it up. She touched nan hand; it disappeared. I wonderment what he thinks. She smiled—so, he’s reasoning again, is he?

Read it here.

*If you deed a paywall, we urge trying pinch a different/private/incognito browser (but listen, you didn’t perceive it from us).