When the glum light dawns and the day is cloaked in black, when the night does not

offer peace but redemption, a final chance to change your ways before looking abyss right in
the eyes. When there’s nothing else to gain but losing, where there’s no way to escape jaws of
mighty Cerberus, then the mortal will face his own demise and looking death in the eyes, play
the final game of dice. His breath weaker, his limbs growing cold he will take unwilling rest
and then, he will know Death, not as an enemy but as a friend.

***

Hel moseyed through empty streets of the unknown town, hidden by her long black
scarf. Blood red rivers dried up on her cheeks, forming crimson circles around her deep set
amber eyes. She looked around herself, seeing shadows in her feverish state and these
shadows followed her through her ordeal. Feeling the fear, for the first time in her eternal life,
she started running only to hear the distant sound of a drum exploding somewhere far away.
There was another sound of explosion nearby, she could feel the essence of life leaving
several forms not far away from her. It was so familiar, known to her and it filled her with a
sense of nostalgia. This was something she did all her life; it was her legacy. Death, helping
those who have passed on moving to another world but not here. This world where she ended
up forgot her, and the world she ruled over, well…
It tried to kill her.
There was so much death on this world, but it was not her death. It was not her territory and
different rules were at work here. These rules were largely unknown to her and as she cradled
the small bundle wrapped in black on her chest she wept.
“My son… is this world the world I should leave you to?” she whispered, weeping tears of
blood once again.
She stumbled on her feet, feeling weakness once again. How could simple, mere mortals kill a
god? What was their power? How could they even do it? There was no way they had so much
power yet there she was, weakened, on the brink of death. She stumbled again, with her weary
eyes noticing a park full of trees and buildings, neatly covered with a thin layer of snow.
This was a perfect place; she could feel it in her very being. She could hear the sound of
distance drums once again, rumbling. It was a sound of death, so familiar to her, yet so alien
at the same time. This death wasn’t hers to deal with. So she took a deep breath of the cold air
and tried ignoring the sense of confusion coming from these souls. If it was her Death, she
would find these souls, she would embrace them and softly whisper “It’s fine, embrace me. I
will guide to another world, glorious world, world without bitter tears and anguish.”
But it was not her Death.
These deaths belong to another being, the being she wasn’t familiar with. She couldn’t go
against the unwritten rule of divine beings: never take the work assigned to another one. Thus,
she let a long sigh, embracing the irony. It took her all her willpower to fight against helping
these souls, and she crashed upon the small bench near the building behind her.
The night did not offer any redemption to her. Where does the Godess of Death go when she
dies? Where was her god of death to save her? Was there even one? Or will her lifeless corpse
forever float in limbo, as her essence disappears to oblivion, forever forgotten by everyone?
She cried a bit more, holding her son tight to her chest, only reminder of the life she could
lead. He was her only hope, her only strength. The only way her legacy will go on. Hel kissed
his small forehead, same amber eyes she had. His hair, already dark in such a young age. He
was so beautiful, so much like her. Her trembling hair moved locks from his eyes and he
looked at her with curious eyes.
“You will not know your mother, son. You will not remember this, but be strong. You’re the
god of death, after all. Yours task will be hard, but I believe with all my heart. I believe you
will succeed. The irony, bitter irony is that you won’t remember these words but may the day
come that you return back to our land and restore what was destroyed. Restore the death, my
son.”
She placed her hand on his forehead, and suddenly she heard a rustle behind her. There, by
the entrance to the large building behind her was a mortal woman. She was draped in strange
soft clothing, looking at her. Hel’s eyes turned back for a second and their eyes met. This
mortal woman was so simple, so young yet there was something about her.
Hel felt a relief – it was her mother’s instinct and she knew this woman was perfect for raising
her son. Her messy hair, her soft puckered lips and defiant look in eyes were perfect. If she
was still a goddess she would look upon this woman and marvel on things she does until the
day comes and she takes her away, embracing her, whispering “It’s okay, I love you, my
dear.” And then she would take her, they would walk hand in hand, becoming one. Her
beautiful body would dissolve into earth, until maggots feast on her flesh and her skeleton
becomes crushed by the heaviness of earth, while her essence lives on. Hel’s hands trembled,
she bit her lip and turned to her son once again.
There was not much time, so she whispered: “Have faith, my son.”, placing finger on his
forehead. Only one gift remained, her power, her legacy. She took a small, sharp knife from
her gown and brought it upon her throat. Even for her, ending her death once and for all was
hard. Yet, she slashed the throat and the red essence flew over her fingers. She opened son’s
mouth and the blood dripped inside of his mouth, and he swallowed it. Last bit of her strength
was enough to make mark on his forehead.
Was this Death, the final unknown? She could feel her body dissolving, she saw herself
becoming ethereal until she turned into stardust. Ever so slightly, her body turned into billion
small shining speckles carried by wind, until the last bit of her body became glittering swarm
of fireflies.
Finally letting go was a welcome relief.
SWORD OF
VARRAHEL
Ordinary day
Just a Friday

When it all started I was just a young adult, barely knowing anything about life.
Such it is with most stories I’ve been reading, or movies I’ve been watching: there was always
this damned hero who would start as an oblivious young man, growing into legend.
Well, I don’t like heroes.
I’ve had my fill of reading stories about heroes, and I’ve always imagined my fictional
adventure as going through dark recesses of forgotten land, joining the band of rogues while
doing so. Such stories amused me, but it was all they were – stories.
When I was at the college, I studied medicine and as student of medicine I’ve had to study a
lot, so it might have left me with scarred mind but I hoped I will be able to find a job. Sadly,
reality doesn’t work that way. Reality is a cruel bitch, or some people might say. So for a full
year now I’ve been sitting at parent’s apartment, trying to make some sense out of my life.
If there wasn’t my girlfriend, Petra, I would probably lose my sanity a long time ago.
Naturally, I’ve had friends but once I’ve stopped working, I’ve stopped going out so much
and lately we haven’t been meeting as often as we should have. My room has gradually
turned into some sort of weird sanctuary.
Since my college days, I’ve been fascinated with death, entropy and all related things. I’ve
had a private source on the internet, and I’ve managed to order several real human skulls so
they’ve been adorning the place above my bed ever since. To further terrify my poor mother,
I’ve put tea lights into eye sockets. First time I’ve ordered it, she would leave my food outside
of door but since then, she got used to it.
They have names, but I don’t think anybody cares about hearing names of skulls! Okay, my
favourite is Alfred.
Park around the building where I live is one of the many in Osijek, town where I live.
There are many things I could tell you about Osijek, but one of them is that there are many
parks. Many, many parks. Since my mother sent me on another pointless errand, since she
“doesn’t drink fat milk, and wants to buy low fat one” I went to the grocery store not far away
from where I live.
This day, however, was somewhat strange. First thing I have noticed was the utter lack of any
sound when I went out of the building. Usually at spring there would be a lot of birds, but this
time everywhere around me was a dead silence. I haven’t thought much about it, taking a
shortcut towards the market, but more I walked, more I noticed there wasn’t a single sound.
When I covered half of the way, I’ve started worrying a bit. Was I dreaming? Aside of there
being no single bird, I haven’t seen another person and there would at least be couple of kids
playing in the park. Strange sensation of dread overcame my senses, I’ve started walking
faster and after a short while, I’ve started feeling trapped.
There was nobody around, and even the market looked scarily abandoned. I’ve rushed
towards the entrance, thinking it might just be my mind playing tricks on me. However, there
was nobody inside. I could feel the eerie heaviness coming from the market, behind the
windows. I entered but as soon as I took the step, it felt like I was taken in by the darkness. I
couldn’t see the finger in front of my nose, literally! I started panicking, and I’ve turned
around but collided with a wall.
I panicked, grabbing the wall, managing to feel my way out of there. Somehow, I’ve reached
the glass window beside the door and I’ve followed it towards the exit. As soon as I stepped
over the threshold, it felt like something burst around me. Feeling of leaving the darkness felt
like jumping in the water head-first. Sounds went back to normal, and I was standing
confused in front of the entrance.
Chills went down my spine. People have left the market, seemingly not noticing the darkness
inside the market just a moment ago. I’ve turned towards where my apartment was but
everything looked as usual. There were children playing in the park, people walking dogs.
Some older woman looked at me confused, thinking something is wrong with me but just
waved her head and went along her way.
I’ve looked around myself, trying to find any source of weird sensation but finding none,
entered the market to buy the milk for mother, and chocolate plus wine for Petra. We were
supposed to meet that day, and I couldn’t wait to meet with her that day. When I went to the
market, I constantly checked whether the darkness will start creeping out from somewhere but
nothing strange happened that day.
Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling of uneasiness which followed me all the way back to my
apartment, where I finally entered my room and collapsed on the bed. Whole experience
shook me more than usual – I wasn’t particularly fearful person and the way this thing
affected me was just strange.
“Mother, here’s the bill. Don’t worry, I paid it for you.” I’ve said, handing her paper bill.
“Well aren’t you nice? Now, if you would only clean that scary mess in your room…” my
mother, Andrea, said with a bit of a sarcasm in the voice.
“Now, Alfred didn’t hurt anyone. Neither did Silvio, nor Darko Junior.” I’ve defended my
skulls.
“You have heads of dead people in the room. How that doesn’t creep you out, I don’t know.”
She said, cleaning the compact longbow. Yeah, my mother is a champion marksman. It’s her
passion ever since she was a young woman.
“Mother, there is actually something that happened today.” I’ve said.
“Shoot.” she said, not even intending any pun as she aimed down the bow to check whether
everything works as it should.
“I’ve… well shit. I don’t know how to explain this one.”
“Try using words.” She dismissively said, folding a bow, putting it back into the case.
I’ve explained the whole experience with the darkness, how I went to the grocery store, the
scary dark fog inside of the market and how I barely managed to leave it. All this time, she
was looking at me but she didn’t look afraid. When I finished, she let out a sigh.
“Is it that thing again?”
“What do you mean?” I asked her.
“You had psychosis. It would make sense that you would see something strange again. You
like dark stuff, you collect skulls, and watch those movies that would make the hardened
soldier cry. You are interested in occult, and have more than one strange necklace from your
sources. With interests such as yours, and with your mental illness history, it’s not strange to
see something like this.”
“I never saw something like that. Granted, I saw some strange things in my life but this is
different.”
Without a word, she went to the shelf and took some thick encyclopaedia, aptly named
Encyclopaedia of Paranormal. She quickly listed through various terms, until she found what
she was looking for. It said “Thought form.”
“If it’s not related to your psychosis, this might be what happened to you. With thoughts
concentrated on dark things, you’ve basically manifested a hallucination of the darkness
existing only in your mind. You’ve entered your own mind, so to speak.”
“That might be an answer, but it felt more real than that.”
“Encyclopaedia doesn’t lie.” She said and closed the book with definitive stare in her eyes.
Suffice to say, I wasn’t satisfied with her answer but I’ve somehow forgotten about the whole
ordeal. After it was all over, I decided to visit my girl back where she lived and we had a
whole night ahead of ourselves.
To visit Petra, I have to leave the district where I live, take a tram down to “Donji grad”,
translated as “Low Town” and trudge myself along with people who are equally displeased
with seeing my long dark hair and dark clothes as I am with seeing their shopping bags and
feeling their onion breath. I’ve somehow managed to endure the ordeal, leaving the tram
station somewhere near the child cinema and the big factory on the other side of the road.
Petra lives in one of the streets accessible by walking. Low Town is famous by its maze of
streets, and one can so easily lose themselves if walking there alone first time. Luckily, I
know these streets by heart and it didn’t take me long to find her place.
It was a veritable castle, it was. She had the marble lions in front of her house! The windows
were all painted the colour of sand, there were those pretty arched windows rimmed with
white stone and she herself lived at the highest floor, in the “tower”. That’s where I saw her,
waving at me.
 Since she was home alone, we took a dip in the small pool at one end of her spacious
living room. She seemed a bit silent, but I didn’t know why. There was nothing wrong with
her life, as far as I know. She scooted closer to me, putting her red head on my shoulder.
“Is there something bothering you?” I’ve asked, but there was no answer for a while.
“Petra?” I’ve nudged her.
“Hm? Right, I’m sorry. Something happened today. I’m still a bit shocked.”
“What’s wrong?” I asked her.
“Well, I saw something. I can’t tell what or who it was. But there was this person standing
below my window, and he kept staring at me. His mouth was opening, but there was no word!
It was so scary! I asked him what the fuck he wants, but he kept opening mouth like he was
speaking.”
“That’s weird, even for me. Did you recognize him at all?”
“No, I couldn’t see his eyes, he wore the large brimmed hat. There was a large bag across his
shoulder, and he kept tapping it. It was bloody, Darko! The bag was fucking bloody!”
She looked terrified and on the brink of tears. I did all I could to comfort her, but obviously
she still felt disturbed. Without a word, she took the upper part of her bikini off and what I
saw disturbed me in an equal way. There, on her right breast, close to her heart was a strange
sign I never saw before, looking like it was branded in her skin.
It looked like four harpoons, right next to each other. She looked extremely concerned about
this.
“Do you know what this is?” she asked me.
“I never saw anything like this before. Have you asked somebody else?”
“I can’t just show my boobs to my family, Darko! God, sometimes you’re daft.”
“I mean have you asked somebody what four harpoons in a row mean?”
“No, not yet. It only appeared this morning and I don’t know what it is. After I saw it
appearing, I saw that man standing below my window. I’m scared, Darko. What should I do?”
“I saw something strange today as well. There was this darkness, and there was nobody
around. I don’t know what happens, but I won’t let any harm come to you.”
“Can you stay at my place tonight? My family won’t come this week.”
“Of course.”
 Later that night, as she fell asleep, I found myself unable to do so. There was this
certain gloom about her place, made worse by the fact there might be some creepy stalker
around her place. The thought about somebody creeping up behind her door didn’t scare me
as much as the fact he could come inside and hurt her. Late at night, I’ve crept out of her
room hearing the rustle in front of the door and I could almost see somebody standing there,
but the shadow left the porch.
PAINT IT BLACK

When I was a teenager, I used to listen to a lot of Queen. It was during the phase when
I was just discovering rock music and I was a mere initiate in that world. Listening to heavier
music, such as doom metal was completely out of question back then. So I’ve listened to such
bands, and I’ve been impressed with Freddie Mercury enough to buy his biography and read it
from cover to cover. The lyrics of song stuck with me, one of his last songs before he passed
away.
“Who wants to live forever?”
For me, the death was always something close to the heart. A lot of people fear Death.
Granted, I’m not different in this matter. I’m as much afraid of the unknown as any other
man. However, I’ve also been fascinated by it, thus my unordinary obsession with skulls. The
subtle mystery, the eeriness of that last moment and the last breath as it leaves the lips,
leaving them pale and cold.
Maybe this is why lyrics of Freddie’s song stuck with me. Until his last days, he stood firmly
on ground, recording songs even when he couldn’t even stand any more. That kind of
conviction and strength in the face of certain death is what fascinated me more than anything
else. I’ve read a lot about Queen after he died, and the impact he left on people can’t be
compared with anything else.
This morning marked the third day since incident with shadow inside the market and
Petra’s vision of a strange man. All three days, nothing strange happened but the foreboding
inside of my heart couldn’t be silenced. I’ve felt like there’s something looming over the
horizon, something which might grab me if I’m unprepared.
I’ve worried the judgement day might come, Ragnarok which might mark the end of the
known world. Thinking about it didn’t make me uncomfortable, aside from the inevitable
mystery of the unknown. I’ve decided the best course of action would be not thinking about
this possibility and I’ve continued my ordinary life.
However, something happened that day which is worth telling. Back then, I didn’t know just
how large was my implication in all of this. If only I did, things might have turned out
different but I wasn’t aware of the mysterious unknown, and it crept in my life like a shadow
under the bed.
My friend Marco and I both studied the medicine, both decided to specialize in forensic
pathology, but the difference was that his mother worked as one and managed to lend him a
job. However, I spent a lot of time at his workplace, interested in what he was doing.
This day, however, he didn’t call me to hang out and watch as he dissects the “crazy guy who
drove a bike drunk”. This was completely different, and his voice sounded terribly worried.
“What’s wrong, shithead? One of the corpses got legs and walked away?” I teased him.
“Not exactly, but not far from the truth. You need to come here and see this. Now.”
“What?” my voice got serious. Obviously, something happened. He wasn’t a guy who would
freak out for nothing. The things he saw at his job made him quite impervious to shock and
disgust.
“Just come.”
I’ve left the building and went to the place he worked, passed by the bored security guard and
through the hospital grounds, towards his “office”. We called it office as a joke, but it was a
glorified morgue. He was already waiting in front, with crossed arms.
Marco was a large guy, with long wavy hair. He looked like some Nordic warrior just got up
and suddenly went to the future, ending in our time. To think something scared him was
almost funny, if not a bit frightening.
“You know; I’ve heard Vikings fear nothing.” I’ve poked him.
“Blow it.” He answered, nervously inhaling another cigarette smoke.
“What happened?”
“I will show you. Let me puff a smoke first.”
“Isn’t it forbidden to smoke around here?” I asked.
“I don’t give a fuck.” he said and blew a smoke in my face.
He didn’t even finish the cigarette, throwing half of it away before practically pulling me
inside. The morgue didn’t look any different from usual. Faint scent of formaldehyde mixed
with the harsh smell of his cigarette coming from outside. There were many closed lids with
names but the thing he wanted me to show was still on the table.
As we approached, at first I thought it was a burning victim. It wouldn’t be the first time, but
most of the times some parts of the victim weren’t burned. Legs would remain unscathed,
while arms and torso would be burned, sometimes even head. But this time, whole body was
completely black. On closer inspection, the body wasn’t burned at all – skin was untouched,
but it was pitch black.
“What the fuck?” I’ve asked him.
“I don’t fucking know. We got this guy yesterday, he died from lung cancer and was
transferred here. He wasn’t black, but this morning I got him out and sure as hell, he was
black.”
“It can be the blood pooling in the skin, can’t it? Or maybe body turned black due to low
temperature?”
“I saw such cases, Darko, but it would usually just be a face, or an arm. Not the whole body!
Something is wrong here.”
“Well if it terrified you, it’s surely wrong. But I still don’t see anything strange here. Stranger
things might happen.”
“It didn’t terrify me, I’m not a fucking pussy. It’s just worrisome. Look.” He said. He opened
several lids from the cold chambers, and every corpse was completely black. Every single one
of them turned black, just as the guy on the table.
“What…?”
“Exactly. What’s worst, some of the people will probably want their loved ones to be buried
in an open cask. How can they, if they look like damned Krampus, hmm?”
I’ve went to the corpse, raising the lid from his eye. Strangely, only eyes remained as they
were. There wasn’t no change at the eyeball, it wasn’t black or anything else. However,
looking a bit more I’ve noticed the veins in eyes turned as black as the skin.
“Are you worried you will lose your job?”
“Supervisor knew my mom. I doubt he will fire me. Something else worries me, something I
did not tell you yet. It’s damn unnerving. Listen, can we meet after my shift ends? It’s not all.
Something else happened not too long ago.”
“To you too?” I’ve asked, remembering what occurred just three days ago.
“If you call me crazy, I’ll beat you. Clear?”
“Whatever it is, can’t be crazier than what happened to Petra and I.”
“We’ll see about that.”
Marco and I met that evening, as we agreed upon. When we sat at our favourite bar
near the hospital, he looked even worse than in the morning. It took him a while to start
talking, but he didn’t do it before lighting up another cigarette. He royally washed it down
with a large chug of beer and looked away.
“It’s even worse than we thought.” He finally said.
“What do you mean?”
“The corpses miss heart and brain. Each one of them. It’s like they just vanished. Coroner
suspected a foul play, somebody stealing organs. But that’s bullshit. Organ thieves? That’s the
worst excuse I’ve ever heard. Egyptians embalmed mummies by taking the brain through
nose, but such action would destroy the brain as it’s twisted and wrenched through the nasal
cavity. Heart can be extracted with a smallest incision. However, doing so takes time. Plus,
there was no sign of incision on the chest. It’s like they just… vanished.”
“Can there be any natural cause? I don’t want to jump to any supernatural conclusion.”
“It’s not natural, I can tell you that.”
“If it’s you saying this, then I’m quite sure it’s not. Did you lose your job?” I asked the
question that bugged me all day.
“No, like I said, I didn’t. Coroner knew it wasn’t my fault, and didn’t fire me. But both of us
are equally worried and confused. He is a professional, he was at this job whole life yet he
never saw something like this. It freaked him out. Him!”
“I think it’s fascinating.” I’ve said.
“It is fascinating, Darko. It’s equally fascinating and worrying. However, if there’s something
supernatural happening there, I would want to know what it is. Because, well...”
“What?”
“I saw this before.”
I went silent, looking at him. I knew him for some time now, but I didn’t know everything
about him. There are things he definitively did not say, and right now it seems he was ready to
tell me something new.
“Where did you saw it?” I urged him to say. His face went cold again.
“Back when my mother died.” He said.
“You never told me about her death.”
“It’s none of your concern anyway. But when she died, her corpse turned black. Just like these
unfortunate buggers. And last night, I saw her in my dream.”
“You mean you saw her ghost?” I asked.
“That wouldn’t worry me. I used to see her a lot after she died, before I woke up and so on.”
“You’re not an easily frightened guy. What did you see?”
“She was begging me to help her. I was between sleep and awakening, and I saw her clear as
day. She was bleeding, it looks like she was in great pain. I only remember one thing she
said.”
“And that is?”
“They’re killing me.” He said, and his throat sounded even more hoarse than usual.
“Killing? But she’s dead. What did that mean?”
“I know she’s dead, bonehead. I don’t know what it meant, but it surely worried me. And then
this thing with corpses... I suspect there’s dark magic involved, since my mother practised
necromancy.”
“Maybe your mother’s death, black corpses and the dream have something to do with my
experiences lately. Just three days ago, I left my apartment and everything was eerily silent,
until I reached the marketplace and realized there’s deep darkness within, like a shadow. I
took a step in, and the shadow enveloped me. I somehow managed to escape and the things
turned back to the way they were. Then there was this thing with Petra. She saw a bloody
creeper in front of her window, his mouth opened without a word and when she undressed,
there were four spears on her chest.”
“Four spears?” he sounded curious.
“Yeah, like barbed spears with round ends.”
“Svefnthorn.” He said.
“Sveftorn? What is that?”
“It’s Svefnthorn. I suppose it looked like this?” he asked, pulled out a pencil from his pocket
and drew four spears, exactly as they looked on her skin.
“Yeah, exactly like this! What does it mean?”
“It’s an ancient Norse symbol, making appearance in various sagas including The Saga of the
Volsungs. In each one of them, it was used to put the adversary in deep sleep. Even Odin
himself used it to put one of Valkyries in a deep sleep, in aforementioned saga.”
“So Petra will just, what, fall asleep?” I’ve said, now equally confused and worried.
“I don’t know? It’s a myth, bonehead.”
“Yet it mysteriously appeared on her chest that morning.”
“What do you want to hear, huh? That Petra will fall asleep and die? Just believe it’s a myth.
It will help you sleep easier.”
“At least one of us will sleep easier.”
He went silent.
“Fuck off.”
“Up yours too, buddy.” I said. He just took another sip of ale.
MAGGOTS

Marco and I decided to order another drink, mainly to calm him down since he seemed
to be unusually upset about the whole ordeal. I didn’t know about anything natural which
could cause a body to lose brain like that. As he mentioned, there were no signs of tampering
around nasal cavity, which could happen if the brain was taken out. Egyptians have, after all,
embalmed their dead by taking their organs without touching skin, at all.
I have tried thinking about many ways the bodies could rot from inside overnight, but nothing
came to my mind and every answer didn’t seem plausible. Yet, in my heart I felt like the
answer was in problems him, Petra and I shared. My darkness, Petra’s tattoo, mute man
outside the window and his corpses.
Marco was known among friends as a cool guy – he would rarely show any emotions but
would gladly offer support with practical advice. Also, he was rather intelligent and because
of his good looks there was no shortage of girls following his every step. Even with this, he
wasn’t full of himself and these fans were an annoyance rather than ego-boost. With such
cool behavior it was strange to see him being upset, almost out of character.
“Are you sure you’re alright?” I asked him.
“What, you’re my mother now? I’m fine.” He answered.
“We’ll get to the bottom of this. Maybe we should call Petra and meet to discuss what we
saw?”
“Foxie? Why not. I can at least laugh at her face when she talks about that guy outside the
window.”
He called her Foxie – they were best friends since childhood and I met her because of him.
Not too long after, Petra came to the restaurant we were currently in, one with the porch built
around large linden tree. Since we were already drinking coffee there, she rode on a bike and
practically crashed on the seat by our side.
“I’m so exhausted.” She yawned. “It’s like I haven’t slept, at all. How are you, guys?” she
asked.
“Big guy here is having some cadaver issues. I’m fine, you know, usual.” I said.
“You should cut your hair tips, Darko.” She said, taking the tips of my hair between her
fingertips, snipping them like scissors.
“No way in hell.” I answered.
“I can do that for you. Don’t worry, I won’t cut your hair too much.”
“No fucking way. I won’t cut my hair! Anyway, that’s not why we called you here. Marco has
some issues.”
“Viking always had issues. He’s a walking issue. What’s your point?”
“I mean aside from his bad temper and detached demeanor.”
“You’ll have to be precise.” She said and fixed the shirt on his shoulder.
“I believe he can tell you himself.”
Marco snuffed the cigarette in the ashtray, puffing the last bit of smoke from his mouth.
“Foxie, do you remember that time we stole the frog from the biology classroom and took it
home to dissect it on our own?”
She laughed a bit.
“When the teacher forbade us from having class experiment because fat Mateo farted with
elbows while she was explaining?”
“Yes, that time. Remember what happened when we got home and took the frog from the
bag?”
“It started turning black, didn’t it?” she asked.
“Exactly.” He took another cigarette, lighting it up as he covered lighter with hand.
“What about it? I only remember I was disgusted when the blood started oozing out.”
“Just as this frog, all of my cadavers turned black overnight. I don’t know how, or why.” He
showed her the photo he took. Her face frowned.
“Isn’t it like your mom? What the hell?”
“That’s what I’m trying to figure out as well. Darko here doesn’t know as well. Coroner
examined corpses, opened them and heart, as well as brain were missing but there was no sign
of tampering. Besides, even if brain was removed through other means, there wouldn’t be
enough time to do it to every single body in the morgue.”
“Do you think it could be some organ thief, but very skilled one?”
“What’s with all the organ thief theories? Do you think a small town like Osijek can somehow
have organized thieving group, and the one large enough to do so in single night, for every
single corpse? Not to mention that security guard would see a group of guys entering hospital
grounds.”
Petra was silent for a while, before reiterating her story to Marco and I. She put an emphasis
on the fear she had when she saw this guy, while omitting the part where she showed me her
breast so I could see the mark. However, she did mention the mark and Marco said the same
thing he said to me, explaining what it meant.
“Maybe that’s the reason why I feel sleepy.” Petra answered. However, it sounded like she
wasn’t worried.
“I think it’s just a coincidence. Darko believes it might be more, but I disagree.”
I have listened to them and decided to retell what happened to me. They both listened intently,
Petra was a bit worried about me, but Marco did not seem so. Even after I’ve reasoned that it
can’t be explained, he still said it could be a temporary relapse since I’ve suffered from
mental health issues in the past, made better by pills I was using.
However, this wasn’t akin to such issues – it felt much more different than that. Marco put
both hands on the table, like always when he delivered a conclusion.
“I think all three of us are way too concerned about things which can be explained
scientifically. Petra, your mark on the skin might just be an odd scratch mark and the man is
probably a crazy hobo. You couldn’t hear him because he was whispering, and you were
behind the closed window. Darko, you suffered from that mental illness back in 2010., and
this might be the relapse which sometimes happens even if you take the pills. As for me, I’m
still new at this job and the medicine is full of unexplained wonders. Who knows what
happened? There definitively is some explanation, and I’m sure we will get a full report after
the body comes back from thorough examination.”
After he delivered the conclusion, the food was delivered to the table and we started eating,
each of us in our own thoughts. All three of us ordered meat in various shapes – Petra ate pork
chops, I ate chicken fillet and Marco ate beef. Now, first one to complain about the food was
always Petra. She would go on and on how the meat isn’t cooked, how it needs more salt. As
she made a sign of cross over chest and raised her finger in the air, I wasn’t surprised when
she said: “This meat tastes funny.”
“This again? You’re always complaining.” I’ve said.
“No, really. It’s full of something, like rice, but it tastes different. Did they decide to change a
recipe?”
I noticed Marco’s face and it was his “Holy shit” expression. It was most of the time the only
expression he made. His usual poker-face wouldn’t change if what he saw wasn’t truly
shocking. When I looked at Petra, I’ve felt my stomach turning.
Her pork chops looked like they were moving, and on the closer inspection I noticed dozens of
maggots wriggling inside, jumping out like soda bubbles. Small maggot fell from her lip into
her tray. When she noticed us staring, she looked down on her food and let out the terrified,
disgusted scream. She broke into tears and sobbed, spitting the food, almost flipping the table
as she scurried backwards on the floor.
“Get her, fucking bonehead!” Marco hurried me. Petra hated bugs, more than anything else.
And she hated maggots. I think she was kind of afraid of such things and seeing her food like
this terrified her not less than the fact she just ate a bunch of them. She was shaking, I tried
calming her down, but she babbled incoherently.
“Petra, it’s okay. It’s alright!”
“Bugs, there were, oh god, there were maggots, I ate maggots, oh god, oh dear…” she
babbled. I embraced her and her whole body was shivering so much, it was vibrating. I’ve
immediately called the waitress and explained the situation. She looked as confused as we
were, and upon noticing the state of pork chops she looked as disgusted as were.
She profusely apologized, even though we all knew meat wasn’t full of maggots when she
delivered it on the table. I don’t know how this happened, but it was strange, to say at least.
After apologizing, she offered Petra some pills in unmarked bottle, and Petra took them. After
several minutes, Petra calmed down and became a bit drowsy.
Marco was still by the table.
“Marco, will Petra be okay?” I asked.
“She is in shock. I don’t think I would call it okay. I’ll take her home.”
“I think I will call an inspection on these bastards. This can’t be allowed.” I angrily said.
“Don’t. This isn’t their fault. I’ve been eating here since I was a boy, and they never had
issues. Besides, Petra’s meat was okay, and this happened suddenly. One moment meat was
fine, another it was like… this.”
“Marco, her food was filled with fucking maggots! Meat was rotten! Maybe you should take a
better look at this fucking meat, huh? Look at it!”
I’ve angrily pointed to the tray. Her meat was still wriggling with dozen maggots. He
grabbed me by the shirt and pulled me close to his face.
“Darko, damn it all! Petra doesn’t need more shit in her life! Want to call inspection? Go
ahead, make her life a living hell! Next thing they’ll do is mark her as witness! That way
she’ll definitively forget all of this!”
I rarely see him being this emotional. Usually he doesn’t let things get to him, but where Petra
is concerned he tends to lose temper. Even now he was staring at me with lips pressed tight,
eyes full of rage, trying hard not to punch me.
“Whatever. This shit is like some King’s movie. You know, bunch of kids facing their worst
fears and all.” I said, throwing my hands in the air.
“Right. Let’s just hope we won’t have to fight a fucking clown.” he uttered.

Petra refused to let me go home, so I’ve stayed by her side as she drank chamomile tea
in her room. She called her mom and explained what happened, and her mom decided to do
what anyone would do – she called the restaurant and flamed the hell out of them. They’ve
decided to reimburse Petra and gave her half of a year worth of free meal. Her mother called
them shameless and forced them to pay her or she will call cops. Since she does sound serious
when she’s threatening, restaurant decided to pay for the psychological damage and they
delivered.
Later, she came to the room.
“Did she ingest some of those vile things?” she asked me.
“If she did, stomach acid will dissolve those. Don’t worry, none of them are alive if she ate
them.”
“Somehow, the image is quite disconcerting. Are you and Marco okay? Was your meat fine?”
“It seems only Petra’s dish was like this.”
“Mom…” Petra muttered.
“Here, darling. Have another cup of tea.” She offered her the second filling.
“Mom, I’m scared…” she muttered. It was strange to think this affected her so much. I did not
know she had such a bug phobia.
“There, bugs are all gone. You will never set foot in there again, and you won’t see crawlies
anymore.”
“Are they gone? What if they’re still here, somewhere, under the bed?” she asked.
“I’ve cleaned your room. Don’t worry, darling.”
I’ve been curious, so I decided to ask her mom about the phobia.
“How long is Petra afraid of bugs anyway? I know she doesn’t like them, but I did not know
she has such a severe phobia. “
Her mother decided to sit down on her rolling chair and rolled closer to bed. She was quite
elegant, if goofy at moments but we’ve all liked listening to her stories. When Petra and I met,
she, Marco and I would sometimes congregate in living room, listening to her mother as she
told about adventures she had when traveling to Egypt as a young woman. She traveled
around the world as a youth.
So now, as she rolled, I instinctively assumed listening position.
“When Petra was a child, she was quite an adventurous spirit. We lived on a big farm near the
city of Simrishamn in Sweden. It was basically a small house with a large backyard, we had
horses and pigs and a lot of animals. She would sometimes wander outside and stroll through
the forest. Since we owned a large portion of the forest with marked roads and a fence around
the property, there was no fear she could get lost.”
Petra huddled a bit closer to me and I’ve embraced her around the shoulder as her mother
continued the story.
“As every other farm, we would sometimes slaughter animals for food. There was a large hole
husband-dear dug deeper in the forest, a bit out of bounds as he threw all the skins and
disposable parts there. We would later burn it, but it stood there for a while because we were
busy and to be frank, stink didn’t reach us since it was far and deep in a hole.”
“Isn’t that a bit lazy?” I asked.
“Don’t interrupt! Like I said, Petra is quite an adventurous spirit and once she meandered out
of bounds. We didn’t expect it will happen, but she didn’t return after few hours and we got
worried. She knew the way back home and would never be out longer than an hour. It’s
mother’s instinct to know when something is wrong with her child and I immediately knew
what happened. I quickly ran to where the hole was, and sure as hell Petra was there. She
must have slipped, for she fell in this hole and was now waist deep stuck in that decaying,
stinky meat. Her cheeks were swollen from tears, her throat hoarse from screaming. I
immediately called firemen and they had to pull her out.”
“I didn’t know… hell, that’s horrible.” I’ve said.
“Maybe there’s something about what is written in the Old Testament… don’t give me that
look. I know you don’t believe. But it said one should never touch dead flesh, for it brings
deep impurity and taints the soul. Petra was never the same afterwards. When they pulled her
out, her skin was all bitten and itchy. She had maggots in her hair, in her clothes, it was just
altogether awful. It took us days to get the stench of death from her hair and skin, but the
psychological effect was worse.”
Petra sobbed a bit.
“We are still dealing with her fear of maggots and flies. Husband-dear and I had to go another
mile to ensure there’s not a single bug inside.”
“How comes you never told me this, Petra?” I asked her. She whispered: “It’s so
embarrassing and stupid…”
“It’s not embarrassing. It’s clearly a serious matter.”
“It’s embarrassing…” Petra said once again. Her mother stood up from the chair.
“Stay with us tonight. I will call your mom and explain her what happened. You won’t have
to deal with them that way.”
“Thanks, miss Sara.” I said.
“No trouble, pal.” She highfived me and left the room.
THE COUNT OF THE DAWN

Story about Petra’s past shocked and surprised me, told by her mother who was a
devout Christian and thus, never lied. She had a lot to talk about, a lot of experience and real-
life wisdom, barring the occasional Bible quote. If she ever lied, I never found out and I
doubted she would lie about Petra’s experience. Maybe it was not due to some curse from
touching dead flesh, but she certainly developed a phobia – the fact she was so scared about
maggots in her meat stands as a solid proof.
Somewhat, the series of unfortunate events these days really reminded me on that old
King’s horror movie. We were a small group of people all dealing with worst fears, but these
fears weren’t just imaginary – they were quite real. I’ve personally seen Petra’s meat alive
with maggots, and those photos Marco took didn’t look made up. I was sitting in my room in
front of my computer almost all night, trying to come up with some answers but to no avail.
There was simply no answer as to what could cause such events, and I came to conclusion it
must have been something supernatural after all. Of course, staying up all night led to not
having enough sleep, for my mother raised me from bed around 10 am for another pointless
chore. I would probably wake up anyway: Petra called me just five minutes after mother woke
me up, apologizing about what happened yesterday.
Like you’re the one who should apologize, sweetheart.
I’ve decided to try and find the source of that unfamiliar darkness which I saw earlier,
and to do this I’ve retraced the steps I made that day. Since I was going to buy mother’s
cigarettes and bread, I’ve had to go to the market anyway. When I went down with the rickety
old elevator, I stepped out of the building and sharpened my senses, trying to notice whether
anything was wrong.
However, as soon as I exited the building I saw kids running around, and warm May morning
was full of sounds. There was nothing to indicate something wrong, so it disturbed me. I’ve
felt like a paranoid man, scared of every new step as I walked down the path, surrounded by
beautiful greenery, lush trees and warm air.
“Is he feeling okay?” somebody asked, a girl who looked a bit concerned looking at my eyes.
“I’m fine.” I muttered, but she didn’t hear me, turning around once again to check out whether
everything is right.
Market was full of people, as always, but I’ve really wanted this darkness to appear once
again, the reason being the fact I wouldn’t be so scared if it happened on regular basis. At
least I would know what to expect, but the fact it happened once and could happen anytime
filled me with dread.
I’ve carefully stepped down the stony stairs, down the path and towards the market entrance,
turning around myself to catch a glimpse of something weird – anything, but nothing really
happened. Finally, I’ve breathed out a sigh of relief and after I entered the market, I’ve
stopped thinking about it and there was nothing strange happening when I was there.
 Coming back to my apartment, I noticed a strange man standing in front of the
elevator. He had an old hat, hiding his face. As is the custom in apartment buildings, I greeted
him but he did not respond. It wasn’t unusual – some people just weren’t very social and
would never respond to greetings. However, as the elevator came down he raised his eyes and
merciful Death, his face!
He was probably the ugliest man I ever saw. Now, I’m not really a shallow person but there’s
beauty and then there’s total opposite. This man probably crouched at the very bottom of it,
eating grubs or something. His face looked like he kissed a lawnmower, his eyes were
drooping so much, only lowest part of his irises was still visible. He had only few teeth, and
looking at me he sneered.
“Greetings.” he said only now. I’ve entered the elevator, and thankfully, he did not follow. I
watched as he stared through the small window at the elevator door. Thankfully, elevator
went up quickly but for some reason, I’ve felt really uneasy thinking he might be walking up
the stairs, slowly. Carefully.
“Mom, I’m back.” I’ve said, as I entered the apartment.
“Uhm, fine, Darko. Leave them on the table. By the way, dad is going to come soon. He’s late
again. Please, will you make a coffee?”
“Again? What takes him so long anyway?” I asked, sitting on the couch.
“Hell if I know. He said he has a lot of work lately.”
“Work, eh? I bet it’s that bimbo colleague of his.” I answered.
“Darko, be respectful!” she snapped at me, turning away from dishes.
“If you don’t want to admit it, I will! He’s an asshole to you, you know?!” I raised my voice.
“I don’t want to listen to any of this. If you continue insisting your dad is cheating on me, I’m
going to reprimand you, severely! Am I clear?!”
Her lips tightened as she glared at me behind her round glasses.
“Whatever. I can just move out, you know? I’m hanging around here because of you.”
“I have never asked you to stay here. I can take care of myself, and when he’s drunk, I can
kick his ass even easier.” she turned around, squishing a sponge as if venting the anger.
“I can’t just leave you to deal with him alone.”
“Fine. Just don’t call him a cheater in front of me again.” she said, fixing her ponytail with
wet hands.
Dad did come a bit later than usual, as was customary. He was not drunk, which was a
good sign. He would usually drink at Friday, at at Sunday evening and at other days it was
like a lottery. He entered the apartment, seemingly happy. He had that look upon his face, the
look which said I scored without saying a word. Sometimes I’ve just wanted to hit that smug
face of his. Of course, mom rushed to hug him and he answered with polite embrace,
obviously rushing to do something else.
“Hello, my son.” he answered, leaving his bag by the coat hanger.
“Hey, dad.” I’ve answered, trying to sound as polite as possible. I’ve never told him I’m
suspecting he’s involved in cheating, and if my tone showed it he would probably change his
behavior, get drunk once again or start being abusive. I hate that asshole.
“How was your day?” he asked me.
“Well, it was good. I was with Petra and Marco, mainly. Then I was searching for some jobs
on the internet, all of that. Something, nothing.”
“That’s very good. I’ve, well. I’ve had a very nice day. We had a party at the work.” he
seemed jubilant.
“A party, eh?” I still wasn’t interested in talking with him.
“Oh yes, you know. Booze, women. All that stuff. I’m surprised you don’t go out more.”
“I do go out, from time to time.”
“Come’on. It would do you good to trim that hair, get a nice button-up shirt and find some
nice ass to grab.” he accented his point doing round shape with his fingertips.
I’ve almost said that it would be nice for him to stop speaking like this in front of mom, but
she did not say anything. She was just preparing lunch, ignoring his comments, completely.
Then he stood up, grabbed her ass and put the hand around her shoulder.
“Cooking something good?” he asked her. I’ve somewhat closed myself after this, going into
my room. It was always peaceful there. I did not have to listen to this shit every day.
However, I did decide to do something which would set my mind at ease.
I knew where he worked. I will follow him after his shift ends to see just what he’s doing, and
maybe put my mind at ease. It will be easier knowing he’s just a bastard, and not a cheating
bastard as well.
Tomorrow came quite fast. I wasn’t doing anything in specific, merely waiting for 4
pm when his shift ends. He was a CEO of the small graphic design company, they were doing
quite well and he racked quite amount of cash each month. It was enough to let three of us
live comfortably and still have some money to spare. I’ve biked to the street where he
worked, parked my bicycle and waited until he left.
There he was, indeed, leaving the building. He was chatting merrily with some red-haired
woman. I did not know her, I suspect she worked with him. Judging by her face, she was even
younger than me but she looked at him in total awe. Luckily they were walking in other
direction and did not notice me.
I’ve decided to follow them for a while. They’ve crossed the street, in the end deciding to sit
in the nice restaurant. Frankly, it was dull watching them like this. I took some care to hide
myself where I could see them without being noticed, but for an hour they were just sitting
there, talking. I did not have any proof he was cheating whatsoever. She could have just been
his colleague. That’s what I wanted to believe anyway.
I’ve taken my phone to record what they were doing, just at the right moment. She leaned
over the table, planting a small kiss on his mouth. He took her hand and gently played with
her fingers. I tried my best not to go there and punch his cheating face, that asshole! I’ve
calmed and collected myself, having more than enough proof that he, indeed, was cheating.
Besides, some people already noticed me stalking them, and I did not want to be reported to
the police.
I returned back home that evening, some ten minutes before he did. Luckily, he did not notice
me and I’ve pretended everything was fine. Same thing as yesterday, he talking happily about
some nice office event, kissing mom, grabbing her ass.
Why do they always go for ass? It’s a mystery I can’t solve. Looking back, I think mom
knew. When he left she would let out a big sigh, her face frowning in worry. She wasn’t
stupid, but she tolerated it, hoping he might come to his senses on his own. I think he doesn’t
think that way, however. He merely took this as a sign she’s allowing him to get away with
anything he wants.
I was tired of my family drama. I could not sleep, so at the small hour before the dawn I
decided to take a stroll around the park. That’s when I saw it again. Not the silence. That ugly
man was sitting in front of the building, feeding birds. They’ve flocked around him, yet not
close enough for comfort. When he moved his hand, they would fly away in fear.
“Greetings.” he said again, with his toothless sneer.
“Greetings.” I’ve politely answered, speeding away. However, when I started walking I could
hear him following in my footsteps. He was whistling. I could hear him whistling a basic
octave, counting from C to B. Even though he wasn’t far away, tone of his whistling seemed
very distant. Honestly, it was freaking me out.
I’ve tried walking faster, but as I did, he started walking as fast as I did. I’ve stopped, and he
stopped as well. Finally getting tired of stalking I turned around to face him and he noticed.
He stopped, staring at me from the distance, sound of his whistling ever so present.
“What the fuck do you want, creep?” I’ve yelled.
“Greetings.” he said once again.
“Yeah, whatever. Stop stalking me or I will kick your ass!”
“Greetings.” he answered, sneering even wider.
“What do you want from me?”
He walked closer and closer, staring at my eyes if that could be called staring. I still did not
understand how could he see with eyes as droopy as they were. His minced face distorted into
creepy smile.
“Bones of my father talk. Bones of my father order. Bones of my father want me to kill.” he
uttered, shuffling with the bag he carried on his back. It opened a bit and I saw something I
did not want to see. It was full of human bones.
“Look, you need a help. I can call the hospital, they can take you in and give you medicine. I
have a friend there, I can help you get in easier.” I’ve said, thinking he’s schizophrenic or
worse.
“Bones of my father order. Bones of my father want me to kill. A week from now. Prepare the
funeral.”
“Okay, I’m going to slowly back away now. Stay here, and don’t follow me. Am I clear?”
“Prepare the funeral.” he repeated, breaking into cackling laughter.
I’ve ran away from him, leaving him to his laughter. He was standing there, laughing to
herself as I moved away. I still saw him standing there at same place when I entered my
building. As I went up the elevator, sudden realization crossed my mind.
It was the same man Petra saw.
KEEPER OF BIRDS

I couldn’t shake the feeling of uneasiness from my mind. An old song from Kansas,
Dust in the Wind repeatedly chimed in my ear. More it chimed, more it reminded me on
mortality and passing of life. I’ve felt anxious, feeling like something bad is just looming on
the horizon. I’ve chalked it up to the anxiety and this man freaking the hell out of me, but I
couldn’t just accept this explanation. There was something more about him.
This is also when the murders started. That morning I woke up startled, as if something had
jumped in my bed. It wasn’t a nightmare, per se. I’ve just jolted up awake, breathless, turning
around myself. There was nothing there. Slowly, memory of the droopy man with a bag of
bones resurfaced, filling me with unease.
“Mom, have you ever heard about a man carrying bag of bones?” I asked my mother.
She was glued to the screen, raising a hand as to stop me from talking. I sat by her side in
silence, looking at the TV screen. A reporter, young lady with golden hair, stood in front of
the inconspicuous building. She seemed rather nervous, which made me think she’s either
new, or the news are really bad.
“I’m standing in front of the house where yet another murder took place. This is the second
murder in two days. Eyewitness claims he had heard victim’s screams last evening as he took
a stroll, but nobody knows exactly how it happened. Citizens of Osijek are terrified they’re
next, yet so far no trace of the suspect has been found. Police is working tirelessly to find the
killer. Meanwhile, they issued the warning not to walk alone during night.”
“Somebody got butchered.” I said.
“Yesterday it happened too. It’s making me feel nervous, son.”
“Murders happen a lot. There’s no proof these two are connected, is there?”
“No, but both of them happened here, in Osijek.”
“Anyway, back to my question. Have you ever heard about a man carrying bag of bones?”
She looked at me for a moment, trying to remember. Taking of her glasses, she cleaned them
and said:”No, I didn’t.”
“Well, this took quite a while. Did it sound familiar?” I asked.
“It’s almost as if I… heard of such man. But I don’t remember how. Isn’t that odd?” she
snapped glasses back in place.
“Well, I saw him.”
Her eyes widened in surprise.
“Where?” she asked in a mild stupor.
“In the building and around. I think he might have escaped the hospital. He seemed
schizophrenic, and kept muttering about his father’s bones.”
“For some reason, that creeps me out. Pay heed to police warning and stay home after dark.
My gut tells me he might be connected to those murders.”
“Him? Trust me, he’s creepy but harmless. I think he’s biggest danger to himself.” I waved
my hand off.
“Whoever he is, don’t wander after dark.”
I’m a person who doesn’t really heed warnings. If I were constantly afraid of
everything, I would never leave the house. But honestly, danger is everywhere and we just
tend to live with that. That evening I went out of my home, taking a tram ride to Marco’s
place. I would sometimes visit him without calling in first, and he did not mind. If he was
busy that day, he would just outright tell me day earlier.
I’ve went down the road from the crossing, down the street slightly curving towards the
riverside. He lived in a two story house, one of many similar ones in this part of town. As I
approached the entrance to his place, half hidden by linden trees, I rang twice as was my
custom.
“Darko, is that you?” Marco yelled from the window.
“Yeah, idiot, it’s me. Open the door.”
“Okay, bonehead. I’ll open it. Don’t drool over the door knob.”
He was comfortable at home, since it was Tuesday evening and he finished his shift. Usually
he would just wear ugliest clothes he would find, but today he wore stained overalls and tied
his hair in a ponytail.
“Will you show me birds today?” I asked.
“Aye. But come with me first. I found something that you asked me for.”
I did not exactly remember what was this thing, to be honest. That’s why I just decided to
follow him upstairs and see for myself. There were actually two apartments in the building
block where he lived. One was on the first floor and that’s where his father lived, and he
himself lived on the highest floor.
It wasn’t a huge apartment, but it was comfortable. Compared to his music and the way he
dressed, his apartment was meticulous. It was modern, spacious, and he kept it pristine.
“When was the last time you were here?” he asked me, noticing my looks.
“I guess when your mom was still alive. I wasn’t here for almost five years now.”
“Yeah, after she died we were both busy with college and all that crap. Well, make yourself
comfortable. Want some beer?” he asked.
“Yeah, that would be nice.”
We both sat at his kitchen, drinking beer, enjoying the evening as only two best friends can.
“So, what was that thing you wanted to give me?” I asked.
“Impatient, are you? Come on, dimwit. We didn’t hang out like this for a very long time.
Well, I can’t be an ass and ignore what I proposed myself. Wait here a moment.”
He rummaged around his room for a while, before he returned. In his hand he carried a long
sword in obsidian colored sheath. The handle was wrapped in similarly dark leather, with an
onix at the pommel.
“You found the sword?!” I yelled in surprise.
“Yeah, can you believe it? After that LARP session, I thought you have lost it. A week after,
Foxie came to me carrying it in her hands. I would return it earlier, but man… I was jealous. I
couldn’t part with it. Over a year since you were here I kept it in my house, waiting for a right
moment to return it to you. I guess that moment is now.”
I took the sword, unsheathing it. It was as beautiful as I remembered it. Onix shone in the
evening sun, silver blade twinkled like a cluster of stars and the hilt with a visage of jeweled
skull almost looked alive.
“Do you remember how I got it?” I asked him.
“Yeah, it was something weird, wasn’t it?”
“A bit. I’ve found it. Well, it just came to my door in a package which I did not order. I called
a postal office, implying there’s a mistake with the order but they said the address on the
package was mine. I don’t know who sent it to me, but I stopped asking after a while. It’s a
good blade, isn’t it?” I observed it once more.
“It looks like a masterwork, honestly. If it was sharpened, it would be mighty, I’m sure.”
“Yeah, I had to dull it for LARP. Rules and all that.”
“If you ask me, that was a huge shame. I would never LARP with such a beautiful weapon.”
“What, I should have used sponged broomsticks like you and Foxie?”
He laughed out loud. A rare sight, and only reserved for his best friends when nobody was
around.
“Yeah, not everyone was as lucky as to have the masterwork sword delivered to their door.”
he chuckled.
“Right. Now that this is here, we might actually consider LARP-ing again. Don’t you agree?”
I asked him.
“Well, that would be nice. And there’s LARP session coming up this weekend. I will apply
both of us. Will you roleplay that blackguard again?” he asked.
„Yeah, of course. Ser Notarthur needs some affection.”
„Notarthur. I can't believe you did not ask to change your name. That's the worst name I've
ever heard.”
„Oh shut up, William Wallace.”
„At least I still have my pride.”
I just laughed and took another sip of beer.
„Will you show me birds?” I asked him. He just nodded, finished the beer and took me
downstairs. His dad was probably cooking, because the hallway and staircase smelled like
goulash. Marco made a comment about going to eat, asking me to join but I politely declined,
knowing mother made something.
We went to his backyard, quite a spacious place. He had pigeon cages on the right side of the
yard, covering one whole wall down the length of the yard. There were more than two
hundred birds in here, and whole place had their scent. It wasn't unpleasant smell, it was akin
to warm dust.
What's a warm dust anyway?
„I will race them this summer. They're not ready yet, however. One of my best racers got
nabbed by a falcon. Luckily the bird survived, but his wing is clipped. I don't know if he will
be fit to race.” he said.
„There are certainly other fast birds in this huge flock.”
„He was the fastest one. Only one other bird comes close to his speed, but he's a fricking
fatso. He only eats and is too lazy to fly out with other birds when we practice. At rare
moment when I can actually make him fly he's swift like an arrow.”
„Well you can make him fly, can't you? You're a bird breeder.”
„Pigeons are not like dogs. They can be trained, but you can't really change their behavior that
easy. Well, I could technically do it but it would take time I don't have. He will have to fly as
he is.”
„What about this one?” I randomly pointed at the pigeon at the end of the cage. He had a look
in his eyes. Look that just screamed „I'm going to prove myself!”.
„This one is young. He's quick, but has no stamina.”
He opened one of the cages and one white pigeon with red wings landed on his shoulder.
„This is Betty. She's not a racer, but a pet. She's also mother of Falcon One, my fastest racer.
The fat one is his brother. She's having good genes, and that's why I keep her around.”
„She's kind of cute, isn't she?” I touched her head. She bit me.
„She bites.” he laughed.
„You could have said so.” I nursed my finger.
I've left him later that evening, going home to rest. It was always nice to visit a friend, even
better when he returns something I thought I've lost years ago. But even without it, I would
love such evenings. There is so much to treasure about your friends, and it made me
appreciate every moment, knowing full well it will all end one day.
WATERY GRAVE

I bet you thought I would describe my dream here! Well, think again. I've read a lot of
novels where the protagonist would describe a magical dream where he somewhat saw his
destiny, but such dreams are rare and too... unrealistic. If I would describe my dream from last
evening, it wouldn't be interesting. It was nothing prophetic or something.
I woke up somewhere around 12:00 pm, hearing laughter from my living room. It wasn't
unusual to have guests, but it seldom happened so I poked my head out of the bedroom to
check who it was. It was Petra, strange enough. She would usually make me visit her place,
but rarely came here herself.
„Hey, sweetheart. Slept well?” she smiled when she saw me.
„Uhm, yeah...” I brushed the sleep from my eyes. „What brings you here?” I asked her.
„Your mother called me to come. We have played some dominoes.”
„That's rare. Mom, what brought this on?”
Mom placed another domino on her huge pile and let out a sigh.
„Petra never comes. I thought it might be nice to spend some time with my future daughter-in-
law.” she smiled. Petra blushed.
„Come on, mom. We're only dating for three years.”
„Your dad and I married after a year and we're doing just fine.” she placed a domino.
I wanted to add a snide comment but I kept it to myself.
„Anyway, don't you have classes today, Petra?” I asked her. Petra yawned.
„Nah. Dismissed.” she said.
„How so?”
She switched a bit uncomfortably in her seat. Mom gave her an eye.
„You have slept so you don't know. There's been another murder. This time it was right in
front of the college. It was a bloody carnage.” she said.
„What? Who was killed?”
„Gate guard. Nobody knows how, but his body is all over the pavement. It was just...
dismembered.”
She was obviously uncomfortable talking about this.
„Do they know who did it?”
„No, but everybody thinks it's somewhat related to other murders. The ones on news, you
know.”
„This starts looking less and less like a coincidence. I worry there's a serial killer around.” I
said.
„That's why I came here. My parents work during daytime, and I've felt uncomfortable home
alone ever since that morning.”
„I have an idea. Why don't we go somewhere and just have fun, you know? Just you, mom
and I. We need some time away from all things that trouble us.” I've said.
„Oh? What did you have in mind?”
„Pools.”
„Pools? Oh that's a wonderful idea! Miss Andrea, will you come with us? Please!”
Mother just let out a weary sigh.
„Oh how can I refuse? Fine. I will pack my stuff, take you home so you can get yours and
we'll go.”
„Thanks, miss A! You're best!” Petra exclaimed.

True to her word, mom took a shower, dressed up and waited until I was ready. We
went to Petra's place and waited until she got ready. From the corner of my eye, I thought I
noticed that same man standing on the pavement not far from her house, but when I looked
again there was nobody there.
Osijek doesn't have many pools. During summer days there are outdoor pools called
„Copacabana”, probably named after the bay in Rio de Janeiro. It's nothing like Copacabana,
but it's lovely and fun place to be when it's hot. Ones we chose were interior pools, and during
tuesday morning there weren't many swimmers. Lucky us.
Petra and I walked down the hallway, trying to find a good locker and she pulled my hands
towards one of the closets.
„Oh, you're feisty today.” I chuckled.
„Look!” she said, peeking through the door. There, under a shower, was somebody I did not
want to see. It was that same man I saw earlier. How he got here, I do not know. He seemed
content to take a shower, he had no bag of bones whatsoever and I felt almost ridiculous for
thinking he's implied in something bad. I started thinking he was just drunk.
„It's the same man I saw that morning!” she said.
„So it is the same person? I saw this guy around my neighborhood lately. He was just walking
around, muttering creepy things.”
„Why is he here?” she asked.
„Because he's just a drunkard who loves swimming. I bet all the creepy things he does were
done when he was dead drunk anyway.”
„Possibly. Now get out. I need to change.” she playfully pushed me out.We have entered
pools along with my mother, and if this man was taking a shower, he wasn't here anymore. I
have thought nothing of it, we took a shower and mom went to olympic pool to swim a bit.
Petra and I jumped in a small mixed pool, splashing each other with water and having fun. We
wanted to reach the secluded small place where pairs used to make out, but discarded this idea
very quickly.
„Darko... he's there. He's just sitting there!” she freaked out.
„Where?” I looked around.
„Inside of the shell. Look!”
We called it shell, but the secluded space was made to look like a small concave shelter
covered with rocks. Just like he said, he was sitting there and staring at us. I could hear his
whistling through splashing of water.
„What the fuck? Is he whistling?” she asked me.
„Let's just... go. Let's go to olympic pool or something.”
„Yeah, that's a good idea.”
We thought this might be a nice outing, but as we were swimming through the pool we
couldn't shake the feeling he was just sitting there, staring at us. It felt like he was around, and
at any given moment we were worried he would just jump into water and start swimming
after us, like a damned shark.
Luckily, he did not.
We have returned back to the mixed pool and as we tiptoed towards shell, we breathed a sigh
of relief. He wasn't there.
„Who do you think this man is?” she asked me as she leaned against my shoulder.
„Hell if I know. I think he's either a drunkard, or schizophrenic.”
„What if he's a ghost? Miss Andrea did not seem to have noticed him.”
„You're quite right. Mom did not say anything.”
„Exactly. Maybe it's a ghost only us can see. Like that darkness you saw.”
„Wait, what's this?” I asked, noticing something behind Petra. It was something scribbled
inside the wall. It looked like somebody scratched it into mortar.
„What?” she turned around.

Five more days.

Prepare the funeral.

„Yep. That's definitively him. I don't know what the fuck he wants. Two days ago he said the
same thing when I encountered him during morning walk. But he said seven more days. This
is freaking the hell out of me.”
„It seems he's having something against you, something in particular. Do you know why?”
„I don't. I never met him earlier.”
As we were talking, suddenly a water splashed nearby. Petra freaked out and shrieked, almost
jumping into my arms. We were almost ready to accept we will be torn to pieces by this
creepy man, but mother's skinny shoulders appeared from the water and she laughed at our
expressions.
„What, did I scare you two?” she asked.
„Go soak your head!” I yelled.
„I already did!” she splashed me with water.
„You're sometimes worse than me.”
„Indeed. So, what's with your faces? You two look like you saw a ghost. Or am I that ugly?”
Petra snuggled closer to my neck, so it fell to me to say what has occured.
„We saw the creepy man, one I mentioned. He was here at pools. I don't know who he is, but
he's following us.”
„The man with a bag you mentioned? I never saw anyone around. Three of us are only people
at pools right now.”
„You were swimming, maybe you didn't notice. He had tight black swimming pants, fat
stomach and ugly long hair. Kind of hard to miss.”
„And you made such an issue of an ugly old man. You two watch too many movies, you
know?”
„Then explain this!” I urged her, pointing at letters. However, when I searched for them,
letters were gone.
„Explain what?” she asked.
„They were right there. Right... here.” I pointed at the empty space.
„Uh, right. Darko, we've talked about this already. You need to continue using your meds.
Your psychosis is kicking in again.”
„Mom, it's real! I saw it!”
„Petra?” she asked my girl.
Petra moved the hair from her eye.
„He's right, miss A. There was a text here, and I saw this man with my own eyes. We hoped
you have seen him too.”
„I swear, if you two are pulling my nose I'll use you as an archery target practice!”
„We're not, mom. I don't know what's going on, but I'm freaking out. This man is dangerous.”
„Fine. Let's go home, right now. When we get home, I'm going to call police and file
complaint for harassment. I don't know who he is, but if he's stalking my kid he's in for it!”
„At least it would put my mind at ease.” I've said.
We got home that evening, our mood completely destroyed. Encounters with that man
made us tense, we did not know where he was or what he wants. He had the tendency to
appear out of nowhere, and the thought he might be outside of door made me feel restless.
Petra and I sat snuggled at the couch, smelling like chlorine, watching some old cartoon as
mother made a phone call.
„Yeah. He has a long dark hair, and he's very physically unattractive. He carries a bag of
bones with himself. My son says he might be schizophrenic, an escapee from mental institute.
.. yes. Yes, he's stalking him.” Long pause. „Look, I know you people are having more
pressing issues than allegations about a stalker but this man is dangerous! If he's putting my
son in danger I want you to do something!”
Another long pause after which she slammed the phone.
„What did they say?” I asked.
„They will send somebody to investigate. Yeah, like hell. That's the politest way to say fuck
off that I've ever heard!”
„As expected.” I let out a sigh. „Luckily, he did not harm me yet. He's just being creepy but
nothing more.”
„Yet. That's correct. He did not harm you yet. Look, I know it's just an allegation and nothing
more. However, I'm worried. About you, about Petra and Marco. You three are like my kids.
Marco and you have been friends for almost eight years now. If something happened to you, I
would...” she didn't finish the sentence. I never saw her like this.
„Thank you, mom. Thank you for caring about us.” I said, trying to console her.
„You shithead. Don't treat me like I'm some prissy whiny girl. Of course I care about you. If
this guy ever tries to get near any of you, I'll shoot him right between those ugly eyes.”
„Well it's good to feel protected.” I joked.
„Damn.” she uttered, rubbing her eyes.
PUNCTUALITY

Mother and I went to the big outdoor grocery market. She bought a bunch of tiny
bananas, like literally tiny. One quarter of regular sized ones. What they paid in size, they
increased in sweetness. Putting one of those in mouth and chewing them was like a paradise,
as if the essence of banana melts over your tongue. We ate whole bunch before we even got
home, and now we were sitting at the riverside.
“Damn it, why are those things so good? I want another bunch now.” she kicked a discarded
beer can.
“I know, right? It’s like they’re double the taste of regular banana.”
“Right?!”
The punctuality of our lives rarely let us live out moments together, to be honest. During
week, she would work around house like a bee. During weekend, she would try to spend as
much time with father as she could. Thus, we rarely hanged out together.
Since it was Friday now, she decided to spend some time with me and thus, we were here
now.
“Who do you think committed those murders?” I’ve asked her, remembering the news.
“I can’t really tell. Do you know that there was another one?”
“Really?” I’ve asked her, but I wasn’t surprised. I somewhat expected there will be one more.
“Yeah. Some hobo from the streets, nobody who got tossed out a while ago. They found him,
well, what was left of him, this morning.”
“What was left of him?” I was curious. She fixed glasses on her nose, regarding the tiny
banana peel in her hand.
“Only his skin was left. Quite literally. Every single bone in the body was missing.”
“What the- how does that even happen?!”
“Hell if I know. Nobody knows. There’s no wound or something. He was just found dead like
a human sack.”
“