What is Wandering Letters?
In short, it’s a story notebook created by multiple people, each contributing three pages. The person who has the notebook reads the story written by the previous contributors and then adds three more pages as a continuation. After completing their part, they mail it to the next person.
Start Exploring Wandering Letters Now!
Encouraging people to read and write. Most people neither keep a diary, nor write a blog, nor can they express themselves comfortably. In fact, writing helps a person improve in conveying what they want to express to others.
“Spoken words fly away, but writing remains.”
Wandering Letters aims to raise awareness about writing. And don’t say “I can’t write.” I’m not a super writer either—in fact, this is the first time in my life I’ve ever written the beginning of a story. So what you need to do is just take one step. If you don’t try to take that step, all you’ll be doing is standing by, watching others move forward. 😊
How Can I Join Wandering Letters?
On our Instagram page, just send us a Direct Message saying you’d like to join. When it’s your turn, we’ll ask for your name, surname, address, and phone number, so the previous participant can mail the notebook to you.
Once you’ve completed your assigned section, let us know, and we’ll share the next participant’s information with you. Then, you’ll mail the notebook to them. This process will continue until the very last page of the notebook is filled.
The First 3 Pages of Wandering Letters
The raindrops falling from the sky hitting the attic window made a sound like arrows striking their target. This sound calmed Yavuz. Stretched out on his bed, Yavuz, a tall and broad-shouldered man of 1.90 meters, kept breathing deeply. Apart from the sound of rain, there was no other noise. After all, the house they lived in had been inherited from his grandfather, who had passed away the previous year. Since it was a detached house with a garden in one of Istanbul’s wealthy neighborhoods, there were no children’s voices in the street, nor the loud traffic noise. At that moment, Yavuz couldn’t figure out what he should do in his current situation. In fact, everything had begun three months earlier.
It was a beautiful sunny day, not too hot, with a gentle breeze. Driving along the coastal road in his matte blue convertible, which he had bought less than a year ago, he was trying to make it to his 10 a.m. class. In truth, on a day like this, he didn’t feel like attending lectures at all. What he really wanted was to head to the lodge houses, hidden in the forest, where he could enjoy one of his favorite hobbies—archery. But today’s class had strict attendance rules, and he was obliged to go. Otherwise, he could fail the course—at least until a notification popped up on his phone. With his left hand on the wheel, he reached with his right for his rose-red phone lying on the passenger seat. Reading the message, he suddenly felt a wave of joy, only to be overcome moments later with guilt. The short message from the school group stated that Professor Mehmet’s wife was undergoing surgery, and he would not be able to teach any classes that week. His joy came from the cancellation of the class. His guilt came from the fact that he had felt happiness without considering the professor’s wife’s surgery. Whispering an apology to his teacher in his heart, he continued on his way.
Now his new destination was clear. Instead of school, he was headed for the lodge. Since the lodge was located outside of Istanbul, he called home to inform his mother, but his sister answered. When he asked for his mother, his sister said she was out running errands. Yavuz told his sister, Meltem, that he was on his way to the lodge, that his phone battery was low, and asked her to let their mother know once she got home. After hanging up, he stopped by a sports shop to buy new arrows before heading directly to the lodge, arriving there in the late afternoon. As soon as he got out of the car, he took one of his new arrows, nocked it on his bow, and shot it at a target three meters tall and two meters wide. The arrow pierced half a meter above the ground. When he went to retrieve it, he saw that the tip that had emerged from the other side of the target was covered in blood.