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ISSN 1409-6900 | UDK 82+7     Blesok no. 89 | volume XVI | March-April, 2013



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                     Peer-reviewed journal
Blesok no. 89March-April, 2013
Prose

Father

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p. 1
Blaže Minevski

Now there are many people that write about what happened in our time, but only the two of us have remembered equally long, because we were born on the same day and in the same town. I left with the First Cohort of Archers and you remained there. I think that you already know who I am, but I too know who you are, and I know what you are, and I know that you have been writing the story about him collecting the testimonies in a book that could be the book of books. That is why, brother Teophilos, I am sending this story of mine, so that you know that not everything is the way it has been written by those who never witnessed what had happened before his star ascended. And everything happened in this and in no other way, brother Teophilos. I am already a man of age; if my counting serves me well, I am almost eighty, and I still remember quite well what happened under the cloud that bore the face of a dove. She was sixteen, and I was six years older. I closed the door behind me, I pushed it and I was quiet, waiting for my eyes to accustom to the shadows. I came closer to her and I slowly lifted the cover. Then she turned her eyes, and she started to pull her shirt, and, just as she pulled it up to her belly button, my body penetrated her and my holy semen was spilled in her noble womb. As you know, brother Teophilos, there are things that God does not understand, although he himself has created them. I know that I rested on her no longer than a minute, maybe less, as the one from Azinaga writes, and then she pulled her shirt down, she pulled her cover up and she covered her face with her other hand. It was not before dawn that I realised that I was the first man in her life. I want to say, I am the father, brother Teophilos, although some beggars wander around saying that I did not exist, that my son was born without a father. Is there a man in this world who was conceived by the wind, by nothing, brother Teophilos? Every human being has both a mother and a father, and my son is no exception, for he






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