A PARAGRAPH FROM HORGENERAL

The picking was over, the shepherds were sorted and pulled, the creaking of the gurgling engines had stopped; the new crop of hazelnuts was being mixed and dried on tarpaulins and linoleums spread out in the threshing floors. My toothless uncle rode around like a horse in his navy blue jeans and noiseless boots during the day, he took his radio with him at night, which broadcast with interference, he slept on the canopy and protected the crop with his rust gun. We were enjoying a barbecue on an evening when cicadas were chirping and frogs were squealing, we were fanning the glowing salmon, we were eating the ground meat pitas we had roasted, when a pure white ghost appeared, making squeaky sounds like a metal object. My uncle Idris, whom my father called my wicked brother, was soldering the tools; he, my unqualified aunt and their lice-infested children ran away screaming, sparking coal pieces and tongs scattered around. I approached the image with a childish lack of anger and in a very calm manner. The creature in the form of a ghost had thrown a white sheet over itself, put its arms around the raised part, looped it and became scary, it was constantly moving, made strange gestures at me, supposedly to scare me, I responded calmly, even grabbed my left wrist from under with my right palm like a basketball referee making a deliberate foul signal, challenged the ghost by moving my fisted left arm up and down from my wrist. The fishermen call this rudeness a blasphemy. The ghost had come face to face with a fearless fighter; I realized that he was sweating like he had seen a dragon and that his face had turned to lime, I threw myself on him and knocked him down. The person dressed in white sheets and playing so animatedly was the renegade Mesut. Consequently, the reckless Ekrem defeated the trickster Mesut. They called Mesut the postman because of his espionage; when the trickery of the swindler was revealed, he became a laughing stock, and from that day on, his name became the Hortlak. I understood the situation when the field mouse that haunted the warehouses was exposed; those who said that the demons were real were plotting.