Welcome back to Weekend Writing Warriors, a weekly Sunday hop where writers share 8 sentences from a book or WIP. I’ve been sharing from Chapter 60 of my WIP, Journey Through a Dark Forest, in one of the chapters set entirely in Iran.
It’s the Summer of 1941, and Georgian immigrant Alina Petropashvili has taken pity on a horrific-looking beggar in the bazaar. Though she gave him water and walnuts, she began to get suspicious about his intentions when she saw how he was looking at her necklace and carrying bag.
He gave her the shock of her life when he called her by name and tried to tell her he’s her husband, Amiran Koridze, whom she never expected to see again in this life. To prove his story, he produces an ikon of Saint Nino, which he says she gave him the last time she saw him, when she snuck over to the prison and slipped some food in through the small cell window.
This has been slightly modified to fit eight sentences.
Alína takes the ikon and examines it closely. Though it’s been four years since she’s seen this legacy from her parents, she recognizes every bit of it. When she turns it over, she sees her mother’s name, Lamzira Mikeladze, and date of birth, 12 November 1895, engraved. She looks up and takes a closer look at the man. Through the scars, wounds, and thick beard, she now recognizes the shape of his face, the curves of his mouth, and the soft, gentle brown eyes of the proud Georgian nationalist who wouldn’t stop wooing her till she succumbed to his charms, the man who made her feel like a queen every day for almost ten years. The huge lump in her throat breaks, and four years of repressed pain and weakness come gushing from her eyes.
“I told you I’d come to find you, no matter how long it took,” Amiran says as she gingerly hugs him. “You can hold me tighter than that; it can’t hurt worse than four years of Soviet torture.”
The inscription on the ikon, in my decidedly unrefined Georgian handwriting. Practice makes perfect. Georgian is the sixth alphabet I’ve learnt, and I’m not yet as fluent in reading and writing it as I am with Roman, Cyrillic, or Hebrew. Greek I can be a little slow with, given my infrequent usage, and I’ve had to reteach myself Armenian several times.