The Little Gul: 1st Letter
#1 of The Little Gul: Letters from al-Siada
Heyhey~!
Jaaaackal, heeere! Yaysqueeps on my first upload! I'm so excited.
"The Little Gul: Letters from al-Siada" shall follow a foreigner to the "Mamlaka" (or Kingdom) of al-Siada. It'll serve as a way for me to world-build, as Rahim--the protagonist--adjusts to the customs and culture, while also setting everything up for the horrors to come~
This is the first, in many to come, of my endeavor to become a good writer. Each time I upload a piece in this series, I'll talk a little about the techniques I'm trying out.
This one is very simple, as I'm fleshing out what I already know how to do. Namely:
-Refraining from the use of any adverbs, except in dialogue.
-Refraining from overuse of adjectives, when teasing the imagination is better.
-Maintaining readability.
-Avoiding passive voice--or, as I like to call it, essay-speech (dead and dull).
-Voice.
Aside from those, I also employed a special little trick related to languages. If you screen through the story above, you might notice a certain vowel totally absent~ This is to create the illusion of the writer being a foreigner, without endangering the integrity of the language it's written in.
My dear sibling,
In sha' Allah, all is well with the family. I am adjusting, and managing everything I face. In fact, it is why I begin writing this. But, first, let me share the way life has been.
All, I have met, are friendly--I am received, wherever I am, with grace. Several have invited me with bread and bedding, giving me shelter in the nights. And the nights, the nights are chilly. Very. But as beautiful as anything I have ever beheld. The stars are breath-taking and the night skies purple--imagine it! Purple, like the black hibiscus. I am ever in awe, each time my eyes rise at nightfall.
And the things I have eaten! I wish it were simple, sending a taste back. Alas, it shall be a treat withheld--kept in mind and just in mind. If paper and text were ever a way I might share the experience, then I'm certain the pages might end up eaten! Divvied at the evening meal, and had with a nice wine by all in the family! Hahaha.
But ah, I am faced with a challenge. It became immediately clear, when, first, I arrived...that learning the language will be hard. It is different in many, many ways. But beautiful like the nights. A kind man helped me find industry and humble wealth--where I can still help the ill, as I first intended. Yes, I am aware that many may find this duty shameful--but judge me by the aid I give, rather than the ways and wheres.
What is this mystery task? My sibling, it is as a guard within an asylum. A place where the sick-minded may heal, rest, and be safe. Law is kind, here. A man, ill in mind, is never blamed when his sick mind leads him astray--his mind eludes him. It is unlike where we lived, where the sick receive but hate, and end up left in the streets--even jailed. This land shames us.
But, I digress.
Here, in this asylum, my tasks are simple, and need little speech. Many here are incapable, as it is, and we must usually speak in gestures. Yet, my kindred guards speak the language and are helping me learn. They suggested I begin writing, and little-by-little, include what I learn. As practice. It is clever, rewarding, and--as I am sure it is clear--beneficial in its familial duty.
I have a bunk in a barracks, and a chest I can use as a desk. We carry few armaments--namely just cudgels. I pray I'll never need mine, but madness can give a man incredible strength. A guard shared a tale with me, in which _six _men failed in restraining an angry madman!
It is but the first day, and--in sha' Allah--it will teach me much.
Blessings and warmth.
~Rahim