Bulgarian Creative Writing Competition

Dear friends,

We invite you to take a dive into the imagination of one of this year's winners.

The future in a jar

- a short story written by Nasko - 12th grader from Chelopech

My whole family, since time can remember, has been jarring future. Although some may argue, whether we have been jarring for the future or jarring the future itself – I personally prefer to see it as jarring the future. It has a pinch of world domination in it, doesn’t it? But not in the I-am-going-to-rule-all-of-you-! type of way! I mean it in a quite philosophical, sentimental manner…

Somewhere in the middle of the summer heat, when all of us, besides any logic, think of the whirling winters of our forgotten village, we start preparing for the jarring.

Turshaki is the name of an undefined by ethnology ritual.

Turshaki is a lifestyle.

Turshaki is the never-ending process of racing between a buzzing anxiety for the future and a stealth adoration of the current moment.

This is a tradition, passed by blood and preserved by love.

The whole family gathers around a table, placed in the middle of a garden to turshaki the crops we have produced during the past year. We wash it, cut it (or not), put in jars, filled with water, vinegar and salt and then boil it for a few minutes.

What do we do with the turshaki? Sell? God, no!

We are going to store it in dark basements, locked with a white thread and keep it, so we can consume it whenever the moment is right. And when we do… A number of great things may happen over the turshaki, laying peacefully on the family table.

Turshaki hears stories about fields being battled over by sisters and brothers in a war-like conflict.

Turshaki acknowledges the first giggles of a newborn and the last breaths of the ones passing away.

Turshaki loves Mara Tsikeritsa – the old lady it hears about every day during lunchtime.

If I were to explain to someone outside of my family and close friends circle that a mix of few veggies has taken the role of a family member in our home… Well, they might think I’m out of my mind.

I may be. All of us may be out of our minds, but I prefer it that way. All of the wise men in the Ancient times were thought to be mad. And in the end of the day, what’s so unusual about the turshaki tradition?

It represents how in times of having, you preserve for times you might not have (anything). It provides a sense of sustainability most of the world is craving nowadays and even it wasn’t – it’s still nice to know there’s a shoulder to cry on and a turshaki to put on the table. So, you can cry over it, too. It’s a jar of future, coming from the past that you may take with you in every present moment.

Turshaki is the trinity of life.

Turshaki is a saviour – you have no idea how many people it may comfort. From nostalgia, hunger or heartbreak. When you draw the line, we are all hungry for something.

Turshaki is the solution.

Some skeptics may say that pickling isn’t a treasured family tradition, but a worldwide food preservation practice. If you need to be a trivial sceptic, sure it is. The collective memory of an entire family tree has been rooted in turshaki, though. Disagree, if you dare!

Turshaki was my great-grandfather’s favorite food.

Turshaki is my favorite food.

Turshaki will be my nephew’s favorite food. He’s only two, but my sister says so. I believe my sister.

Some say that you are what you ea-

-        Honey…

-        Yes, mama!

-        Come pack some turshaki for college!

See?