Short Stories

Short Stories

Because the neighbours know everything about their neighbours
I woke up sitting /this story will have to lie for a certain time or to be at standstill /
/and/ When the pupils of the closed eyelids are moving left-right-left-right… – a dream –
When he woke up it was the same day

Translated by Kristina Trajanovska

That day the man woke up heavy. His head was heavy. His shoulders were heavy. His hands. His eyes were also heavy and he can hardly recognize the objects around him. His legs were moving with difficulties. His body was heavy a lot so that’s why his feet sunk several centimetres in the dry earth . His fear was also heavy that appeared in his eyes and enlarged his pupils.
The fear, however, was the heaviest. It was that heavy that made his head and his shoulders and his hands and his body even heavier.
With heavy steps the heavy man directed towards the window because it seemed to him that from his heaviness became the heavy walls and the ceiling of his room. That’s why he directed towards the window. And the window was open outside it was spring and happy were the trees and their branches were light because the birds flew on them and when they flew out of them took away with them the others, invisible bodies of the trees and thus the trees were going everywhere where the birds were going or flying. But the heavy man couldn’t see that because the fear in his eyes had widened his pupils and he could hardly distinguish the things around him. He didn’t distinguish them, actually.
The heavy man leant his heavy elbows on the window and couldn’t see a thing.
He couldn’t see a thing, thus he returned in the bed in which, that morning woke up heavily and lied again. With heaviness in his eyes he was looking at the ceiling and soon the ceiling started to look at him with heaviness. Under its ceiling’s heaviness, the ceiling sanked several centimetres in a footnote the unmentioned but most often used figure of speech.
The above mentioned caused a gentle swinging on the floor under the writer’s feet who that morning woke up heavy.
Otherwise, the writer was not one of those writers who are omniscient and all present and who can also see at long distance. On the contrary: he wasn’t capable of seeing what’s happening a floor below. Nonetheless: he was a good neihghbour to his neighbours. They often came to his place, to drink coffee, to smoke a cigarette, to borrow some sugar, oil, toothpaste… and they were often inviting him for coffee. In the coffee – chats he was discovering everything about their lives and the lives of their close and distant relatives, friends and neighbours. Especially neighbours. Because: the neighbours know everything about their neighbours.

2018-08-21T17:23:26+00:00 April 1st, 2004|Categories: Prose, Literature, Blesok no. 35|0 Comments