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ISSN 1409-6900 | UDK 82+7     Blesok no. 19 | volume IV | February-March, 2001



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                     Peer-reviewed journal
Blesok no. 19February-March, 2001
Theatre Play

Darkness

- a play in four parts -


/10
p. 1
Kole Čašule

CHARACTERS

Neda
    Ivan
    Milka
    Lukov
    Hristov
    Fezliev
    Metodi
    The Young Man

about Čašule's work
    Jelena Lužina: Conquering the Freedom
    Biljana Crvenkovska: Kole Čašule: Absurdist and/or Antiutopist

In the year of 1921.

All characters and happenings are fictitious.
    Any similarity with those existent then is
    accidental and unintentional.
    The author


    Down there, through the field, midst willows,
    to this heart of mine
    All is night and knife in my back rammed
    Centuries of knives from alien hands did
    not scare me,
    I am daunted from a moment of fraternal hand
    in my hind.

Ante Popovski, а contemporary Macedonian poet.


    FOUR WALLS.

Desolation-framed in them.
    Yet everything is there:
    paintings on the walls
    heavy double curtains over the windows
    cases resembling coffins put up against the walls
    incongruous leather arm chairs
    sheepskins scattered on the floor
    an earthen Genoveva
    and
    a lamp put off to one corner
    pressed by its dark-violet cover.
    Frozen fingers of light
    are slaughtered on the skins.

Silence.
    Somewhere off
    a suppressed feminine resistance.

The door is opened.

In the desolation she is
    framed first-
    Neda and immediately he -
    Ivan.


    NEDA: And now, I beg you – go away. (Ivan closes the door and enters. It is clear the previous love game hasn't satiated his desire, and he wishes to go on.)
    NEDA: Ivan, dear… be good. Be careful. Ivan, I'm afraid.
    IVAN: Afraid? Of him? Of your husband?
    NEDA: Ivan, please.
    IVAN: Forgive me. I had no intention of offending you. (Goes to her. Obviously he wants to correct what he wronged.)
    NEDA: No… No… No… No, darling. (Af first she resists, tries to free herself from his steel embrace, to separate from his breath, but with no success. Then, unexpectedly and in a wild rage, she starts to cover his face, his neck, with feverish kisses. Her words are mumbling, they resemble lost, torn cries.) IVAN: (Initially he gives way to these kisses, even tries to play with them, but soon he becomes conscious of Neda's acting strangely, unexpectedly, and he takes her head in his hands, trying to look in her eyes): You are crying?
    NEDA: No. No. Don't look at me. (She is totally absorbed in him. For a while they remain quiet. Then Ivan talks. His voice is different now, warm, worried, and he is pensive, staring somewhere in front.)
    IVAN: Oh, you. Do you remember the dinner at Ivanov's? I had just come from the front, still coarse and rude, with my entire soul soaked in blood and totally unaccustomed to the pale faces of Sofia, with her female toilets and perfumes… I entered the salon enraged because I let them drag me to that senile reunion of worn-out politicians and “patriots”, nauseated






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