Norma by Vlado Mladenovski - HTML preview

INTRODUCTION

When darkness reaches the middle of the day,

It grabs, blackens, destroys and hurts,

Shines in the unconscious, with stellar hope,

You are swept away, howling and lying yourself hopefully.

A child grows into a big nothing,

Ignorance scattered around desks and sofas,

Our anger stinks and yells in our ears,

In so much misery, reason is suffocated.

The painful strike sounds loud in the ears,

I hear the spike rubbing from the iron,

And the black sheep praying the executioner,

Give me three days at least, you will see, it will dawn!

The crucified idol hangs on the walls,

Pain doesn’t stop, at least to ease sorrow,

Candles burn, do not hear mock,

Let your cattle out of your flock.

Sour it turned, trodden by a yokel,

With morals known to him, upright but bent,

White figure made miserable of the belly folds,

They were our sisters, and they were dear to us.

There was a Peter, different from all,

Obliterate reason, untold hero,

Motif on the rim facing west,

A pack of wolves thirsty for attack.

Curdled sheet of tenderness he keeps,

His heart is blinded, but Milica he loves,

Reason from a friend like a mercy from dry wind,

He is looking for a gram of vigor here and there.

Twisted essence the miserable utters,

His open mouth poisons the brain,

The battle will end and Peter seeks a beginning,

Fearless in the fight, wounded by love old.

Do you, Peter, see the end from above?

Why do you, hero, kneel above a building high?

Will you fly, hero, over the asphalt unpaved,

Or you will wait for us far away, still unborn.

You saw, Peter, the gate is shining there,

White is your cloak with spots of roses,

Your fingers will play again with curls,

It is your Milica, now you can enter.

Only peace might hurt more,

We are crushed bro; we don’t have strength anymore,

We need Peter for nothing; the end is anyway here,

Only closed eyes see heaven.

I am praying, I don’t know whose white coat to see,

A drop of the needle that gives peace,

See you buddy there, write Cyrillic,

Here I am, traveling, hey, say hi to Milica.

I

The belts of Nazareth, which are here to calm my temper, squeeze my hands so badly that, with every surge of blood running through my veins, I feel as if every amount of fear is my last one. Amounts distributed in an ideal rhythm or tact. Something resembling a sound of a train that is moving on the rails at the same pace. Tam-tam... tam-tam... I love trains. Now I got my own, rear-wheel drive. Imagine, the train-driver is a girl dressed in white. I cannot see her face from the reflections of lights that blur the image as soon as my pupils get used to that particular light, another one comes and makes the image dark. Then comes a third light, fourth and so on… I want to ask her to slow down but I have no voice. I hate my silence. The rhythm of fear in me is already equated with the rhythm of reflections of lights. The wheels creak in the same rhythm. This is crazy. But now I have just noticed that the cubic lanterns in the distance also throw light in the form of a circle before it is completely lost. I would never remember to see how they illuminate the things they want us to see. But now, I do not see anything. Only darkness and fear that beat, thumping my temple hard to unbearable pain.

I am still amazed by the ingenious architecture, the logical layout of the buildings as it normally first catches the eye, but even more so by the perception of life and its goods in this distant place. A place where you cannot feel distrust or fear of someone or something be it alive or imaginary. Heart-calm, eyes-captured by beauty. There is peace, tranquility, happy faces everywhere, buildings in curved shapes that are neatly placed and reflect compactness, i.e. orderliness, in a society shining with perfection. Nemak.

Peter was the first to open the oval window in his bedroom every morning, allowing oxygen to come in, which had an aphrodisiac effect on him. That sparse oxygen in the atmosphere that was almost cloudless troubled him initially and he fainted with excitement while making love to Norma. A beautiful female specimen that the entire population of Nemak was proud of. Maybe her beauty, the physical one, was different from the femininity we are used to, but Peter was earnestly in love with her. Norma was the fourth generation of the Soyuz caste who preferred to value morality and mind rationalization and were asked to spread and impose those principles on other inhabitants. These are principles that are highly ranked among the social norms and are binding for the greatest achievement - happiness. It is interesting that they advocate for open-mindedness, but at the same time consider that the mind should be directed towards useful goals or to upgrading social criteria. That is mind rationalization in a society which does not even exist on paper but is there only for the Nemaks.

The Soyuz caste is also known for the natural beauty of its members, including Norma, who is leading the way in this regard. Peter had a hard time pronouncing her name, more because of the feeling of some former socio-political infidelity, although he had affectionate memories of the beautiful Milica, who ended up with a rope around her neck in the moldy basement of the hacienda of the newcomer - vampire. In fact, Milica was his girlfriend, and he was her lover. But, that was.

I will hang the last priest with the intestines of the last king! - a phrase learned by heart, used by Peter in the debates with his neighbors in order to contribute to the cleansing of the political pigsties, which smelled so badly before each election that burned even the eyes. Visually, the smell, mixed with the polluted air of Skopje, has been promised hundreds of times to be cleaned and a million more promises given with the sole purpose of obtaining a new “sex party” with the citizens who obediently wait with their pants down. It was a picture that revived the bacteria in Peter’s stomach.

For Peter, there was no need for political excursions in the new environment. He liked it, and the esteemed by him, Garibaldi, would surely have been without action in a society that was rushing to perfection. There is no stress in Nemak! There is no politics, no elections, no perfect fools, no perverted social sages; no and cannot, as words, don’t exist in their language. In fact, Nemaks laugh more than they talk; therefore, I think I know why our intellect has easily grown accustomed to the new environment. And, his lungs began to produce more freshness.

Nothing remained binding on him in the former dump. He was sometimes passionate talking about the former tavern “Freedom”, about friendships, music, women, binges, beauty of life… the life he later cursed.

Why curiosity never missed him as it peeked through the bedrooms and dark corners of the city? - Peter was often infuriated in the moments while wandering in the fog, looking for the never-ending white line. Curiosity, or staring, in the space studded with barbed wire, is equivalent to life. Well, everything has to do with it! He did not allow himself posterity, fearing that at some future time he would have to bring up the mistake by himself. And, he honestly had no time to devote part of his mind to think about children, or, let’s say, a traditional family future, because he was preoccupied with survival strategies.

He found his peace in Nemak. As part of the minority, his smile and good mood were noticed while fulfilling the daily obligations, i.e. habits of the Nemaks. Mandatory breakfast, morning vigil while the sun is still red, then a mandatory board game practiced by virtually everyone. It starts after the red sun that shines for about two hours and lasts until it starts to lose its intensity, and, as they say, it turns gray. That is the time when the Nemaks make love. Then, as a relief from the passion, everyone has dinner and gathers with their partners in equivalent dwellings, which, honestly, I don’t know how they are able to recognize which one is theirs. In the beginning, Peter entered other people’s homes a million times, which the locals consider a good gesture. But, Peter bears the burden of the past, knowing that behind many good things there is greater evil, so he decided to ask them to mark his dwelling, the one that he shared with Norma. Although it was against the rules of the Nemaks, they still found understanding and allowed him the button opening the door to be square, not circular. That was enough.

In the beginning, as a sign of hospitality during the mandatory breakfast, when all the Nemaks eat together, usually everyone in their own sector, Peter was served with food grown for those like him, who live outside the ghettos. However, mating or sharing goods with the female is not allowed. One cannot even get closer to those unique creatures because of the different smell. It is a scent they are not used to. Simply because you stink, you cannot share a bed with a female. For that reason, Peter very quickly got accustomed to their food, which is tasteless and void of various things that affect health. Moreover, he immediately accepted the other rules. He wanted the red sun to last as long as possible, because no one is thinking then. Everyone is sunbathing. And the red decor of the planet was known to him even when he was an Earthling. The Zelezara sky over Skopje was often reddened by the poisons released by the factory. We are poisoned by the quasi-romanticism in our shit of set-up. And, in Nemak, the redness meant and radiated health and peace. During the gray glow, Peter had no problem. He was so desperate to fuck that I think he would not mind fucking a chicken. Peter fell in love with Norma and enjoyed the sex with a female with lizard attributes. Here, females have tails. Tails with a million species of tentacles that they use during the act of love, while caressing the male, to actually give him instructions on how to lead the act which they enjoy the most. I had never heard about the other tentacles, what spells and tricks they do. Norma also respected Peter’s sexual fantasies, so they had no problem whilst the sun was shining in a gray light.

Peter boasts that he would not change fucking Norma with anything else in his life. Norma, besides being really more beautiful than most of Nemak’s females, enjoys the greatest recognition that a member of the community can receive. She wears a red stripe on the left upper arm. This means that, in addition to the rules and principles of her caste, she knows skills to master in art, music, dance, painting... And, she is ideally healthy and very wise. With such recognition, she can choose for herself who she will live with or make money with, and that “doll” chose exactly our prematurely born Peter!

It is strange for us, Earthlings, that the Nemaks, I mean the males, do not show sexual urges, nor do they sigh loudly when a female like Norma passes in front of them. The smile is always an inevitable decoration on their face. They almost have a perfectly white complexion and slightly pointed ears, so be it Norma or not, they smile. However, Peter habitually gives himself airs while walking like a peacock, holding tightly the hand of the beautiful Norma. But no one notices him.

He wanted to be recognized, to be a leader, to turn people around him when passing by. A behavior he was warned of by his partner as well. She knew more than any other indigenous people about the past inclinations of those like Peter. She often stressed that his “Freedom” is not just a room where reason is lost, consuming a variety of liquids and food. That is something that makes us all happy here. We live it, and you too, Peter, we live freedom here! - Norma told him.

Nemaks respected diversity, but still worked hard to get the newcomers accustomed to their way of life and customs. It would be foolish to let the many centuries of tradition and so much luck be obscured by some characters like Peter.

Male newcomers found it easier to get accustomed here because most of the people in Nemak are female. Female newcomers, on the other hand, found it difficult to get closer to the native males, although they did not care much for them. They are different. Very often they never leave their newly settled colonies, where they continue to pursue their former habits. The red sun was strange to them, even more so the vigil. Such ghettoized newcomers did not understand why love is made every day in the gray sun. Nemaks never have a headache, nor are they sick. But, to be honest, Nemak women can only get pregnant once a year, which is on the same day of their calendar year that lasts 525 days. Female newcomers did not have such a problem.

On the last, 524 day of the calendar year, now of the year 4057, at the last rays, the gray sun turns white. The white light shines, so identical everywhere. There are no shadows from its prevalence. It is magical! Nemaks respect that day. On that day, all the suns around them shine, including those that shone through the previous lifespan and then went out before a new sun was born, which after its lifespan goes out, and so on and so on... But they all save energy for this day. Nemak’s Fertility Day. The bright light that shines helps to awaken the fertility hormone in females. Only then their ovum is fertilized. Males do not have such a problem. The light which is identical even indoors drives the Nemaks so crazy, yet beautiful, that they don’t choose where they have sex. They feel that it does not matter if they are in or out. Seen from the outside, it all looks like a group orgy that only happens in a dream.

The sexual intercourses end at different times in couples, but always in full whiteness. That is normal, right? They all keep on lying or sitting in their chosen nests, while the suns slowly begin to fade away, leaving lines between lighter and darker shades that retreat to the point where they disappear completely. Nemaks walk along those lines as they withdraw and become increasingly blurred. Those couples, who reach the farthest walking on the edge of light, believe that their newborns will be blessed with the longest life. With the complete disappearance of the sun, full darkness occurs. Stars shine in the distance, but they do not have the intensity to illuminate the ground of Nemak. And the planet has no moon to reflect some of the light from the sun, which illuminates the area at night with huge, scattered crystals. That part of Nemak is uninhabited. The couples stay in their places, at the positions they have reached, until the morning, when they slowly return to their dwellings, preparing to send-off the passing year.

Otherwise, daily making love in the gray sun is a kind of habit, a daily ritual, to respect the moment when the day of fertility arrives. The day after the light goes out, the last day of the year, is the only day when Nemaks do not have sex. Peter has not experienced that day yet.

FREEDOM

Amid the terrible machinery,

mental spurt fights,

a bright man stands upright,

and counts endlessly.

Up to ten and back,

someone’s mind to make fragile,

a century-old leg, foot to lift,

view to open, air to burst.

Reason, thought, urge to explode,

waiting row, columns to break,

a hostage to get out of his own body,

with new senses to shout loud, freedom!

II

Peter met Norma, or, more precisely, she met him, in the days when he was on the verge of his vegetating. Peter escaped the onslaught in full swing, which shat over all the social norms of the previous life, so it was logical that Peter was one of those who sucked shit. Long years of shit. The struggle for dignity was tough and long. He lost all the battles, but kept saying that the war was not over yet and, indeed, it was not over for him. That struggle haunted him whenever he opened his eyes. He wanted the neighborhood in which he existed to be a compact whole, created by his generation, and to distinguish it from the collectivity imposed by the assholes with ties, i.e. he wanted them to point fingers at the neighborhood as a debauched environment in which thought rules and brings progress.

As a child, my fist was bleeding from playing marbles, now I will have it bled from the noses of all those who want to urinate on the ground where we used to make holes or draw morts! - he often said as a teenager before signing the parked car with a screwdriver that was not from our neighborhood.

He says that Norma had wings when he met her. She flew in as he was gathering strength, with bleeding knees, to lean his head from the roof of the building where he rented an apartment. She pushed him back so strongly that he hit his head on the concrete and fell unconscious. Since then, they are inseparable in the far-away Nemak. He respects her as she may have flown millions of kilometers to save Peter, Milica’s lover, from the fate that befell the poor black-haired woman. Even if it is a coincidence, it deserves respect. Now, Norma is in his heart. Milica is just a memory of a bygone era, filled with love and a lot of pain. He would say that tears are useful only to collect some dust in piles around the bench on which you sit with your head bowed. Tears cannot clear the whole street. Too many defeats endured per square meter in the years we grew up. If we arranged those plates like a ladder, we would reach the moon, and we would still have some left to pave the way back. Peter reached further thanks to the beautiful lizard-like Norma. Lucky him!

It happened once that Peter packed his suitcases; or rather his whole life fitted in one smaller suitcase, and headed to the train station. He said: “I will get on the first train that will take me out of the country, no matter in which direction”, and sat on one of the benches, waiting for the loudspeaker to announce the number of the platform on which such a train would arrive. He got chilled to the bones waiting at the platform, where, due to the dirt and the accumulated garbage, not cleaned for years, all his past came before his eyes. Around the broken trash cans which were full, moldy papers to wrap up the “Generation M” sandwiches, as well as nudes from “Vruci Kaj” could be seen and there were cover pages on the benches from the “Nova Makedonija” newspaper, very often used for various purposes due to their size. Their consistency in writing deserves respect. They didn’t change the cover page for 30 years. Maybe there was progress in the photos, i.e. the idiots on the photos! I mean, the same characters, from juvenile careerists, became wrinkled bastards, but still it was difficult to see where and how they reached the ideological turning point.

The reminiscence was stopped by the loud shriek of the rusty horns, whose purpose was to convey the sweet words of the sweaty lady dispatcher, hidden somewhere outside the reach of citizens. Before uttering the words, she sucked the remaining food from her teeth, and then remained silent until the shriek finished, and, finally, she burst out:

- Those waiting for the train with one-way tickets shall remain waiting!

Tiiiiiiiiiiii! Piiiiiiiiiiiii! Again a loud shriek, but this time announcing the departure. Moreover, the stench of stale urine on the tracks, requested courage to endure longer.

Before his one-way trip, we were too emotional for several days, backed by lots of alcohol. I am not even sure if he had any money left for a ticket. Neither he nor we knew which way he would go. We talked more about whether he would return or not and when. As if we were all sure that our hero would succeed in life anywhere but here. Maybe the whole idea was caused by an outburst of rage, a feeling that, unfortunately, you cannot get rid of.

As soon as the horns shook their fresh rust off and calmed down, the ground began to shake, announcing the incoming train composition. Peter knew it was not his train, so he ignored it. Luckily, the loudspeaker did not rush to announce the arrival of the train coming from somewhere. Surely, the lady dispatcher was eating a second round of fat. Peter was thinking about the new beginning he was already determined to embark on, when his nose smelled a pleasant feminine scent, bringing him back to reality. A remarkable girl sat on the same bench next to him, primarily because there was no other, undamaged bench nearby. A black-haired, with beautiful curls, good-looking girl that Peter had not seen or touched ever before. My friend’s knees were shaking. Exhaling two or three times, peeking at her as she was looking for something in the suitcase which was similar to his, he couldn’t stand any longer and started speaking to her.

- Maybe we are waiting for the same train?

- No, boy! I just came back. - the girl replied.

- And, where from? If it is not a secret? - Peter asked.

- From where you intend to go. - she replied.

That was enough for Peter. He cheered up; neither the platform nor the train mattered to him anymore. Politely, with a smile on his face, he stretched his hand.

- I am Peter.

- Milica! - she said, putting up a smile on her face that drew two dimples in her cheeks, which made her look even more beautiful.

- Shall I treat you to coffee somewhere in the town? - Peter invited her.

- Oops! Aren’t you waiting for your train, or there is still time before it leaves? - Milica asked him.

I think Milica felt that Peter would not leave, that was evident from the look on his face; she was somehow not surprised that Peter had already forgotten about his trip.

- Maybe another day, or some other time... - Peter said.

Milica closed the half-opened suitcase and got up.

- I would like some coffee! And, a walk around the city would do me good! I have not seen it for two days. - she replied.

Peter got up satisfied, and, together with Milica, headed to the exit of the train station, the pathway to the new chapter of his life. It looked perfect, like a fairy tale, but it did not smell like that.

Peter wanted to predict things; he even thought he had such a gift, let’s call it prophetic, as he was often not mistaken, although where it stinks of shit it is not so difficult to bog down therein even if you are careful not to. Shit was everywhere. Peter easily guessed the next steps of the well-established assholes, but that gift didn’t give him any advantage over them. On the contrary, he fed himself so blindly and sadomasochistically with their shit, dispersed and present even in the most hidden pores of life, which, he said, made him stronger. The poor hero had his gun rusted before taking it out of the pants.

At times, he was frustrated that Norma knew in advance what he was fantasizing about while they were making love, so she was prepared for each of their next sexual exhibitions. The moment of surprise was fucked up for him, i.e. he could not brag later about how productive he was for the multiple orgasms of his partner. But the tails of the Nemak women did a good job as well. They were goddesses in the bedrooms in Nemak.

Before Milica got married richly, she was Peter’s inseparable habit. They were madly in love with each other. They were overjoyed together. Their love messages, created by acting as a couple, reached beyond and were truly enjoyed by the whole environment. Milica was shining, glowing. She became even more beautiful. Our neighborhood had never seen such a beauty. Peter, besides unreservedly loving Milica, also fought with the vampires who lived there around the clock. They sucked his blood so badly that it became a problem for him to take Milica out for coffee. Peter fought and Milica respected his defeating struggle, but she felt in herself that parts of her existence began to remain without incentive. However, there was no place for Peter’s replacement in her heart. As time passed, their coexistence was reduced only to fucking in the days when Peter would skip the guaranteed dose of liquid in the tavern “Freedom”, after which he was more motivated to fight the dragons. Fighters like him grew stronger in such places. Their morale was raised at the cost of the low libido. It all affected Milica.

He became so obsessed with the fight that he was constantly looking for a way, a weak point, to rise above the creators of our decay. He often said that he should bring the enemy closer, to sit him down at the table, because if distanced, the enemy had the advantage over him because of his long arms, stretched from robberies. Their pockets were even deeper.

At Nemak, residents are distinguished only by the social status that is usually built or promoted through the castes in which they belong, which, in turn, means more obligations to society and to the lower, but not privileges. Material value is something non-existent there, i.e. in Nemak, they are all literally the same. There are no cars, yachts, fur coats, expensive restaurants - nothing that would separate them from each other, due to material wealth. They all walk on two legs, are dressed almost in the same way, only small details can reflect a higher social status in the appearance of some individuals who are not too many, such as the red stripe on Norma’s left upper arm.

At first, Peter was contemplating aloud so that the locals could hear him, that Nemaks were consuming some kind of drugs collectively. That they jealously guard it and hide it only for themselves, out of the reach of the Earthlings. Since he met Norma, more or less, things became clearer to him, that it is not about any drugs, or any magic potion. The smile, their happiness, almost always positive attitude towards the others, even different from them, was due to the success of the system, the society in which they were born, grew up and died. To die without any trouble! Why would anyone die!? - he sometimes asked Norma jokingly. To be born even happier and more beautiful! An answer Peter did not believe in. After you die, only a bigger worm can come out of the soil thanks to you, which would be beneficial only to a fisherman on Vardar, whose fishing rod and cork are a legacy of our epic social transition. A therapy for the strikers, former workers in the factories, who were transited on the quay of Vardar, leaving them without a penny! And the wisest, the ideologues, creatively melted the machines from the factories like scrap iron and proudly bought from the earnings padlocks for the entrance gates of the places that gave life to thousands of families. Now, they say, staring in the river had a calming effect on them! Exactly, when you come up on the surface of the river after more than two minutes of diving. And you will never get nervous again. Because of the past, you never say Good luck! to fishermen! It is foolish to say such a thing to them, knowing that happiness flew away from them years and years ago! More precisely, their happiness was cut off and now, pitilessly, jokes are invented with goldfish that bring happiness and fulfill wishes!

One sober day, I mean after a whole day of drunkenness, Peter, wounded from the previous struggles, decided to present us with the long thought-out plan he had in mind. Honestly, we doubted the reasonableness, but he believed in what he had planned. I deeply think that Milica trusted him too, although she was exhausted from the obstacles on the way that were set by the ethically blind. One step forward - three steps back, was the formula for success, created by the empty-headed sages as a social norm that they imposed with all their power and means to be respected by the class, whose financial income reached up to the tenth day of the current month. That sober day, he found a broken bird wing on his terrace.

- A bad sign! - he told us, a few friends from the neighborhood.

He admired the birds. They are the only animals that can sense danger in time and escape it. The old people of Skopje said that before the bombing of the city in the Great War, the birds disappeared even before the bombs fell. They felt the danger! That feeling must have traumatized them, but with their timely escape, they kept their intestines in place. They didn’t have the chance to see the abominations with which the occupier acted, I apologize, administered the city and the state where I was born. That is why, in the years after the war, the people of Skopje rejoiced at every pigeon returned. They love pigeons, keep and care for them. Peter also had such a gene.

That day, he proposed to Milica to get closer and seduce the vampire as soon as possible and then marry him. His house blocked Peter’s view, whose rented apartment was on the third floor of the building. It is not clear to me what kind of rapprochement to the enemy he thought of, but he was convinced of the plan. Neither Milica understood him well, because she did not know the man personally, nor did she oppose him because, indeed, Peter’s fight was respectful. She was supposed to conquer the rich newcomer neighbor with her beauty, who didn’t get along very well with women. Then, in the period that followed, to slowly find out the weaknesses and, with such a joker in his hands, Peter to fight against the ugly bastard who was one of the obstacles for him to create the ideal neighborhood. A place where people would live and prosper based on honest achievements. A place free from miserable people, such as the newcomer. There were still no other opinions about Milica’s beauty, or some masculine criteria that would disparage her or find her an imperfection. The black beauty was bursting with charm! The doll got ready, looking a little bit like a slut, took the key with the red ribbon and went out to work out the plan.

And everything happened so quickly. The doll Milica, with her beauty given by God, seduced the vampire at the r