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ISSN 1409-6900 | UDK 82+7     Blesok no. 76 | volume XIV | January-February, 2011



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                     Peer-reviewed journal
Blesok no. 76January-February, 2011
Prose

Emptiness

(First prize at the short story competition LIK, Nova Makedonija daily, 2010)


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p. 1
Elizabeta Bakovska

It was on the day of the funeral that she saw her father naked for the first time. They changed his dried, thin and sickness tortured body on the couch in the living room, on the same spot from where he had watched TV for years. They changed the deceased with an agility and speed that one has when he must do something, led by his desire to finish as soon as possible. The weight of the body that lifelessly lied in their arms was not compatible to the fact that it had shrunk, and they lifted him with difficulty while some dead liquids gargled in his chest, creating the illusion that something inside that empty body was still alive. He was changed by others, but she stood there, from time to time trying to help by pushing the hand with the long fingernail on the pinkie inside the sleeve of the shirt, pulling the socks up her father’s feet, soaked for years in some waters and wrapped in some leaves so that his toenails do not grow into the flesh, and tying his jaw with his artificial teeth in with a handkerchief so that it does not open.    The naked body of her father that was already turning yellow and cold quickly hid in the new underwear and shirt, and they pulled his best suit on top of it, the one that he wore at her wedding.
    Her mother and father never had a wedding, her grandmother told her once. They simply eloped. Or, better said, her mother eloped with him, and her father took her somewhere, gathered his colleagues from work to sign as witnesses and that was it. That was how her mother had made the decision that determined their lives forever. And she remained at this decision even that single time when she told her that she loved her. When she left home that time, her mother came to call her back. Her face was blue and swollen, when she ordered her to return home with her teeth clenched and her voice strict. Tears run down her cheeks at the moment she saw her. Never before had she felt how it hurt when somebody who had given you life suffered. “Why are you crying?” her mother mumbled through her swollen lips. “Because I love you.” She said the only think that she could say at that moment. “Divorce






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