Our Stories, Our Lives, Our Memories and Our New Discoveries – Part 1

Storytelling has a long and intriguing history in humankind’s development. 

As children we heard stories framed in words or with illustrations and pictures that coalesced around nursery rhymes to fairy tales to adventures of animals with human characteristics or relied on TV to transport us through the visual medium of storytelling. From old-school comic books to graphic novels, young adult fiction to best-selling novels, romance, fantasy, mystery, non-fiction, erotica…all genres of literature tell us a story. And we remember the lessons that we learned.

I still remember my adventures with Boy’s Life magazine, Aesop’s Fables, Sherlock Holmes, King Arthur’s Knights of the Roundtable and Sir Lancelot, and later in life, the Sixties’ political, social justice, corporate intrigue, and compelling autobiographies penned by a diverse group of storytellers who were better known to us commonly as writers or authors. Bottom line. They were storytellers.  

aaduna is humbled that we continue to attract diverse and compelling voices that weave compelling themes and plots, interesting characters and their all too often complicated relationships, visions and realities into stories that can prompt our immediate, raw emotions, and then those impulses often lead to engaging others in re-telling our reactions to what we just read. 

Here are a few snippets from some of the writers who will tantalize your imagination in the pending issue.

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- from “Untitled” by Sirriana Neba:

I am an animal in a display case. I sit at the tall tables up above everyone where every move I make is watched. One awkward movement and all I see are people staring and laughing at me. Sometimes I could be doing nothing at all. It’s just the state of me being alone and them being in their wolf pack that makes me weird and a freak. I sit in silence. The other day I heard a group of girls talking about me. They were trying to come up with ideas on why I sat by myself. Jessica Lawrence said, “There’s so many weird people in this school I find it nearly, no, just impossible that he can’t find someone to sit with!” If that doesn’t make a person feel like an outcast, I don’t know what does. She doesn’t understand and I don’t expect her to. She has everything; the money, perfect family, high social ranking, and I have…my conscience. If only she could feel my pain.

Sirriana Neba (photo provided)

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Crysty Schultz (photo provided)

Here is the opening paragraph of Crysty Schultz’s story, “She Knew What She Wanted”

She knew what she wanted. She had decided to live her life in a robotic sense, going through the motions and smiling, even though she couldn’t feel the warmth of the smile on her face. Everything she had trudged through; all the trials and tribulations were done now. If she didn’t talk to any more men, and didn’t make eye contact, they wouldn’t notice her. They wouldn’t see her slipping into a happy, warm, brain buzz from her drink. They wouldn’t buy her another drink, puffing out their chests in over confidence from beer, walk their eyes all over her, undressing her with them, and assume she wanted to take it outside for a romp in the parking lot or some other undisclosed location. Why can’t they just have a normal conversation with her? Why does it always have to be a “come-on” and not just two humans communicating to distract the feelings of loneliness?

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Sophia AlBanaa (photo provided)

Sophia AlBanaa tempts us with an excerpt from her story, ”the children of white mothers:”

what happens when you have no idea what you look like? mixed children with white mothers are looking into mirrors and making sure they are still there. i do not remember the last time someone actually saw me. when i am in a middle eastern restaurant i pronounce the names of the foods wrong because it will still be wrong when i pronounce them right. no one ever says ahlan w sahlan when i order hummus, but they do to the girl in line behind me. i do not remember the last time i saw myself.
what happens when everyone mistakes who you are? when you forget who you are. in my head, my name is spelt with an f, sofia. in my head, my middle name is pronounced “khaleed.” the kids with the brown hands call me “lightskin.”

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William E. Berry, Jr., aaduna Inc./CEO/Publisher, photo by Lisa Brennan 

My colleagues and I are in the process of prepping the next issue for a launch before or during mid-August.

Can you really wait???

Can you be patient for a little while longer? Just know...

We will bring you other snippets about the contributors to whet your appetite! With that said,

We thank you in advance for your patience, support, and ongoing readership.

aaduna continues to persevere because of you! And we are humbled by your presence..

Stay creative!
bill

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aaduna - an online adventure with words and images - a globally read, multi-cultural, and diverse online literary and visual arts journal established in 2010.  Visit us at www.aaduna.org where we put measurable actions to our words.

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