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As for our short story, I'm still waiting for more of your plot development contributions and will write it up next week.

In the meantime, it's the month of Ramadan, which for the more than one billion Muslim inhabitants of the earth is a holy month.

Exactly 1400 years ago the Koran was revealed to Muhammad during Ramadan, the ninth month in the Islamic calendar. Hear more about how the Koran was revealed and what it means to people.

In many world religions a revelation is seen as the only source of divine communication with mankind.

The Old and New Testament - which are considered by Muslims to be Holy Books - tell many stories of revelation, be it the encounter by the Prophet Moses with a flaming bush, or the annunciation to Mary by a dove, or indeed the Apocalypses of St John.

But the revelation which came to the Prophet Muhammad is the most recent and maybe therefore the description of it keeps a lot of very human details.

What personally strikes me as a writer, when I'm reading manuscripts from that epoch, is a powerful mixture of astonishment, fear, doubt, honesty, devotion, loyalty and wisdom.

But most of all, this recounted revelation stands out to me as showcasing the bearing of the unbearable which fell upon a human being with such an intensity.

Just imagine for yourself: an illiterate man of 40 years' old. His nickname is 'Truthful' because he never lies to anyone. He goes to a cave for some seclusion and there, in solitude, he meditates night and day.

And in a moment, like a bolt from the blue, the rocks of the cave are lit with a blinding light, and an utterly alien gigantic creature appears in front of the man and starts to fight with him.

The angel caught me forcibly and pressed me so hard that I could not bear it any more. He then released me and again asked me to read. I replied, 'I do not know how to read'. Thereupon he caught me again and pressed me a second time till I could not bear it any more. He then released me and again asked me to read, but again I replied, 'I do not know how to read' (or what shall I read?). Thereupon he caught me for the third time and pressed me, and then released me and said: 'Read, in the name of Your Lord, who created, created man from a clot. Read!'
- Al-Bukhari, Book of Hadith As-Sahih

Tabari, one of the first biographers of the Prophet Muhammad (who, of course, was that man in the cave - the cave, incidentally, still exists), writes:

That evening, leaving the mountain, Muhammad went to Khadija - his wife - and said: 'O Khadija, I believe I am going mad.' Why, she asked? Because, he said, I see in myself the signs of the possessed: when I walk along the road, I hear voices from each stone and each hill; and, in the night, I dream of an immense being in front of me, a being whose head touches the sky and whose feet touch the earth; I do not know it and it approaches me in order to take me'... One day, finding himself with Khadija in his house, Muhammad said: 'O Khadija, this being appears to me, I see it. Khadija approached Muhammad, sat down, took him on her breast and said: Do you still see it? "Yes", he said. Then Khadija uncovered her head and her hair and said: "Do you see it now?" No, said Muhammad. Khadija said: Rejoice. It is not a demon but an angel.

This story was first told to me by my Granny, when I was a child. In her version there was another stage after the part about the dishevelled hair. She used to go on: 'Then Our Lady Kadija stretched her legs and the Angel ashamedly disappeared. Shaytan (Satan) would be shameless. That was the difference!'

The documents of the epoch tell us that even then, both of them consulted Waraqah ibn Nawfal, Khadijah's relative and a learned Christian, about it. Waraqah told Muhammad that he had encountered the very one whom God had sent to Moses, and that he would be driven out by his people.

And so began that middle-aged illiterate man's prophethood, which has changed the world so much.

Back to the business of writing a short story together!

By way of introduction, let me tell you a story.

Once the Uzbek folkloric hero Khodja Nasreddin was mediating between two people in dispute.

He said to one of them: "It seems that you are right!"

But when the other brought forth his arguments, Khodja said: "It seems that you are right".

Listening to them all, Nasreddin's wife said: "That can't be true, either this one or that one is right."

Khodja Nasreddin thought for a moment and replied: "Funnily enough, it seems that you are right too!"

So is our project: all inclusive and multi-faceted.

I had thought about writing a novella with you, using your input as separate chapters, but I have to stick to my initial promise: to write with you a short story.

What follows is an outline of the story, using your comments.

Location

Let's start with the easiest part: location. Someone suggested Eastern Europe, so why don't we choose Bulgaria - as homage to that other Bush House writer-in-residence, the dissident Bulgarian Georgi Markov? Here's an epigraph written by him: "We're brothers, men are all brothers. Got it, you, bastard?"

I'll choose the small city of Burgas, which I know pretty well and feel comfortable describing.

Then - in an attempt to use as many of your suggestions as possible - I suggest we combine many of the ideas like this...

Characters

Dimitar - an unemployed man who returns home after years of world-weary travelling. He has been working in the West (a figure similar to Juan from suggestion # 5 and Boris - suggestion #18).

Alfred Cooper - an evangelical missionary priest with a love for science fiction, shortwave radio and gardening. Alfred has come to Bulgaria after the fire in his church left his daughter Alice disabled. (A combination of Vicar Alfred Handy - suggestion #10; Henrik, the German Buddhist monk - #5; Father Victor Killoran - a priest in Belfast #13; and an elderly man #3).

Alice Cooper - his daughter, a young disabled scientist - ichthyologist and campaigner. (With some features from the following contributions: a dizzy self-centred character - #11; Alice in Wonderland or rather Jessica - #22, a determined person - Daria / Dasha #16).

Events/lines of dialogue to be used

Back home Dimitar finds himself unemployed (#21, #5, #23) ans dispirited (#13, #15, #17) with a bleak future (#14). ³ÉÈË¿ìÊÖ World Service is on the radio (#15) and he hears the words "E kabo dara ju e kule lo" - "To be welcomed back from work is much better than staying at home and welcoming others back from work." (From the Yoruba) (#23).

Alfred Cooper has a random encounter with Dimitar saying "What time is it?" (as person stares at clock display on expensive mobile phone - suggestions #11) and he tells the story of the fire in his church, which left his daughter disabled and him with a feeling of endless guilt (the doll's house #1).

Alfred grabs a sci fi novel from his desk rather than the Bible (#10), there are glimpses into that book (#6 and #13). The phrase "I don't want to know about bloody meditation, Father Alfred. I just want a job and a girlfriend" comes up(#5).

While socialising online, Dimitar finds someone under the name of Alice Cooper (!), who is campaigning online for clean ecology (#4, #22). Include the phrase "And anyway, I told the truth, but I'm afraid I told a lie".

An exploration of Father Alfred and Alice's relationship, while she is in the state of "uncontrollable attraction" (#2), with flashbacks of Alice trying to save that notorious doll (#1, #22), being burnt and maimed, and saved by someone who lived that time in the church (#8). Include the phrases "I can't be the only one left alive?"

Alice decides to meet Dimitar (#16), who is concealing his identity under the pen-name 'Boris'. "The metal buckle on my belt was rusted when I got it back." (#20) "There is sorrow in birth". "Death is liberty. There is sorrow in life." (#6)

So what's next? How should the storyline between those three characters proceed? Once again over to you! Tell me how you think the story should unfold next.

"E kabo dara ju e kule lo."

I'm back to London and with great joy found so many suggestions you sent in for our short story project. I've started to look through them and in the next entry I'll share with you my thoughts on how to develop our promising plot, our wonderful characters, and I'll try to use as many of your valuable contributions as possible. So I thank you for the work you have done in my absence!

I was in Spain. To be more precise I was in Oviedo, Asturias. The park there reminded me of a story from around the time of last year's Copenhagen Climate Conference when the Uzbek authorities suddenly decided to axe the centuries-old trees in Amir Timur square in the centre of Tashkent. (.)

For anyone who was either born or grew up in Tashkent, that park meant so much. I studied next to it in the Biology Department of the University. The best moments of my young life were spent under the shadows of its leafy plane-trees. I wrote my first poems in its cafes. Its benches witnessed the first meetings I had with my wife. Ask any loyal dweller of Tashkent and I'm sure that he or she would tell you that the park was the face of the city. But without any consultation the park was cut down overnight.

So in Spain, listening to news of a horrible heat-wave in Russia and the former Soviet Union, and thinking - with bitterness - about shade-less centre of Tashkent, in Oviedo I found a strange double of that Tashkenti park. The ruthless sun was the same, the heavy shadows of the park were the same, the dome-like arcade of the plane-trees was the same, and the trembling air was the same.
When I saw that mirror-image park, a strange thought came to me, as if - like people escaping persecution-speechless trees can also turn into asylum seekers. As if that park, to escape being cut down, decided to go abroad for good.

What would you do if it happened in your city with your park?