A joke for you

This reminds me of a story of some guys that tried to pull a joke on the draft for military service. I don’t know is it true or not, but it’s sure as shit it made some people laugh.

A young man, 21 years old (age of Serbian boys when they are obligated to report in the military base and get enlisted for service), walks in the recruitment camp and starts frantically searching for something.


First was the physical check out. They strip them in underwear and recruits fall in line while doctor is running the visual tests of the recruits constitution and body type (this is important because, based on your height, weight and body structure the military designates you for one of many military groups (army, navy, airborne etc.)). The man looks nervous and constantly asks for “a thing”, nobody knows what the thing is. Some officer asks the poor guy of what is it he is looking for and the recruit explains it’s a flat, thin thing, usually white and cubical shape. Officer figures out that the guy is talking about a piece of paper, but what kind of paper.


Second was the check out for cognitive reflexes, but the recruit fails at every test, the search for paper goes on. He doesn’t listen to commands, nor he responds for call outs, he is searching for the paper. People around him are starting to grow impatient of his behavior and higher ranking officer steps in to see what is this commotion all about. Everybody start yelling at the recruit and beg him to tell them what paper is he looking for, but the poor guy doesn’t know how to explain. Officers start bringing him all sorts of paper, but that isn’t THE PAPER he is looking for.


After couple of hours, officers decide to take this man to the psychiatrist and run the tests for madness. Recruit goes in the office, same story repeats itself. The man starts flipping tables, open the drawers, go through the folders in search for a paper he doesn’t find. This confused shrink observes the recruit and finds him mentally ill, and mentally ill people are not allowed to have a riffle, they are unfit for duty, so he signs a military release paper and hands it to the crazy recruit. Recruit reads the paper and says: This is the paper I was searching for.




Coffee break

It was a while since I published something about my culture and this post has no views… So let me add some and share with my army. Yes, I will soon add more of this kind of things. I have few things I want to present to you, so stay tuned.



It is known that writers just LOVE coffee and pretty much everything that has coffee in it that will make them stay awake and concentrated on the writing. Losing a thought or forgetting where you were going with the plot can be a bitch sometimes; therefore, we overdose on coffee to keep our creative process running. Balkan is famous for heavy drinkers, coffee consumation, cigarettes and long hour parties. Almost every Balkan Boy or Girl knows how to make one, and they will gladly prepare a fresh pot whenever a guest arrives. When a Girl makes a good coffee, Balkan people say: “You can get married.” which means, she is able now to make hers husband happy. When a Balkan Boy makes a good coffee, people say: “You don’t need a wife.” which stands more humoristic than actual advice.

Kinds of coffee in Balkan

Because Balkan is in the…

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Life in a loop

It is important to break that loop of monotony and depression, cut the strings that hold you, move the rock from your chest and take a deep breath. It will be hard, as living in this day and age is hard, and nothing comes easy. Soldiers fight the wars that people back home couldn’t understand, and somehow the roles change when a young man sent to defend, returns home and forgets how not to fight. That is his loop of torment no one can help him with. One might ask him if he wants some assistance with his problems, but trained to depend on himself, he will probably deny such thing and throw himself in the horrifying agony called life, use his fists to defeat the opponent and rise a hero. It would help a lot if his enemy had face, or a body, but it doesn’t, so it is twice as hard. He wishes for his brothers on the right and left to aid him because he trusts them the most, but his platoon is in the same silent warfare. Loop is their worst nightmare that drains will and strength from them like quick sand in the swamp. Every day, it is on their mind. He might wash the dishes, build a porch, drive a car, play with his children, eat and sleep, but when he is zoned out, absent from conversation and distant with gaze… He is there, with the family he forgot in chaos.




Party Time – Yeah!

I almost begged the young girl to bring us more beers, but she didn’t cared to listen to me until I pulled few more purples and gave it to her for being such a darling. She gave me a smile too, and a moment later the beer knocked on the top of our table.

– Fuck Ildocians! Fuck them all! – Amar yelled from the top of his lungs, turning around in smoky room, spilling the half of his drink.

– Sit down! You are drunk! Ha, ha, ha! You idiot. – I tossed it to him while trying to light my shisha and failed.

– No! Fuck them! Seriously, they are no good for anything else but fucking!… Ha, ha, but-fucking! They are a bunch of faggots, aren’t they?! Women run the Elite Dread Guard, Aramon be Great! D’a fuck is that?! What man, let’s his wife go fight his wars, ha?! Faggots I tell you! – he kept screaming, bumping the other guests and irritated the band in the corner by meddling with their instruments.

– Sit down! They will throw us out! – I said when an older fellow borrowed me his lighter.

– Let them try! See this?! – he shook his emblem on military uniform, pointing it at my face, – I am the Zarian soldier! I am the one who will defend these folks from the Ildocians… – he took a sip, sang for a bit and crashed on the chair next to me, leaned all the way back, – They are already on the march, you know that? They will be here in four days and here we are, drinking and smoking. D’a fuck is wrong with us? – he made a funny face of discontent and took another sip.

– It’s just life! That’s where we live! Thousands of years have passed and the Ildocians still haven’t found any other way of living except of raiding, looting, pillaging the villages and cities! That’s who they are!

– Nooo. They are vultures, leaches, a stinking piLE OF SHITS! That’s who those fuckers are! A shity faggots! Yes! I am right and you know it! – Amar smiled again, rose on his feet and started dancing.

Girls laughed at the fool that kept falling, bumping into people and irritated the musicians. Some grey hair men watched him, moved their heads away from him and hid veterans regret, while the waitress avoided his stinking breath and pulled off his arms from her ass. Some guests were aware of what will happen to him in five days, some tried to figure out his behaviour, but had no power to meddle with the soldiers in dusty bar. Me? I knew against whom we are up against, that’s why I allowed Amar his last party. Ildocian meddling in our busyness never stopped.




Wake of War

Drums beat the pace as we stomp our boots, slowly closing in to the border with Konia, a city in war with Gratna. Zarian ambassadors were in the royal Konian palace, debating the peace treaty with the ruler of Konia. They wanted to end the war before Ildocians get involved and total chaos ensues over the steel made peaks of the Konian homes. Out there, in the tops covered with mist, snow, ice… The cold awaited us. Our generals had plans to draw fight to us, instead of chasing the hill regiments and connect with guerilla style fighting. Passions were rising every day, until our king decided to send a big portion of men to aid Gratnians. Konia had a lot of reasons to avoid our presence, and keep the war down low with the Gratnians. Tones of silver we took from them, and Gratnians invaded their Eternal mountains, a stone territory of Konians. War ragged for a few months with no winners, so we were summoned to give the upper hand in the fights.

After this marshy plain, we were about to step in the icy Konian turf, where death lurked at every hill side, at every unmountable edge, at every cusp submerged in cloudy mist. Landscape appeared abandoned and naked, with few darken dead trees, yellow grass and white crust over the ponds which crawled the uneven terrain. An odd chill went through my spine, made my fingers dance and hot steam to exit the mouth, but the march was on.

– Aees von suuur! – yell broke in the beat of drums and the army have stopped.

Silence stilled our breaths as time passed in waiting. Drums ended their barrage when a flock of crows flew above us.

– A good sign. – I thought, – It is always good to see crows.

I got relieved for a moment, thinking that we just might turn around and head home. A cavalry detachment broke off from the majority and dispersed in a weak spacious line. They rode two miles front and back. General was setting up a mobile camp, pulled out the map and placed ink over it, then he rolled it in and gave command to return home.

It felt odd and ecstatic in the same time. I was happy for not going up there, getting my nerves split out by night raids, ghosts in the mist and sudden attacks… However, the strange feeling pulled me to concern.

– Why leaving now? Is the treaty signed or not? Are we still in war, or just tactically taking the positions for the fast Konian attacks? – I asked myself slowly picking up the pace of the moving army, then I turned around and swinged my look over the shoulder.

Crows were flying in circle, falling to the ground like hunting. One of those black creatures opened its beak and startled me. The nasty bird had blood oozing from its black mouth. Barely visible specters blackened the pale air around the hill, mountain and steep edges behind us, waving their spears in relaxed position while looking us gaining distance. Grey mounds knocked the rocks from under them, presenting the pale skin of the Konian mountain elite archers. They were too many for us to handle. I was frightened for my life and yet I felt blessed by the Aramon for he has spared me. I was to live.

Two days in march home, a friend told us a rumor he heard from the cavalryman. He made sure we know from what we pulled away. The marshy plain had no ponds until that day, and it was covered in a forest of dead trees. Catapult projectiles flatted out that terrain and the arrows hurled to put the Gratnian army to grass. Plain slowly swallowed the corpses and heavy rocks, masking the atrocities that happened there.




I stepped in the ruins of the round building, running from the bullets that followed me like a vengance. Crippled walls witnessed the horrible event that fell on them as humble priests mourning over burial. Truck load of bricks hardened my escape where bullets picked up the cement dust and threw it all in the air. Few craters on the structure indicated artillery from our engines, undoubtedly known to me by the scorched rippled edges and sharp shrapnels jammed in the wooden pillars. This must be some sort of palace or something.

– He went in there! – someone yelled and stomp of boots broke over the road.

I passed two doors not looking the corners for enemy soldiers and kicked the third door where the wood on them whistled. A sweet smell instantly greeted me in a cloud. It was a familiar smell, the one I liked the most. These ruins hid the beautiful secret colored in many shades of green and white. A cherry tree was yet blooming, salting the air with white petals like snow in May. The center had the huge pond with small rocky parts pretending to be a path to the other side. I ran across that water and took cover behind an old crate. Cherry tree embraced the incoming wind and let go of the tiny blossoms that flew in a circle, slowly rising and coming down. I looked at that enchanted by the smell and the white whirlpool which was petting the ruined walls. Wind was coming from the side, that’s why this was possible to happen. I understood the physics behind this event, but I was still caught by the moment.

– Fire! – I heard it in the distance, when piercing screams of grenades started to dig through the wild backyard, violently rearranging the terrain, breaking the iron suspension beams, plunging rocks into the walls, turning the green plains into the ugly holes, splashing water over the ruins where everything turned muddy and then it all stopped.

It was a short pause in this Hell we were stuck in, and I decided to use every moment of it. Soon the drones will come here and the robots that wanted me dead. Their controllers are not far behind, they saw me entering here. Specter passed the grey cloud where white petals glued themselves for that creature. It was a woman, but not any woman, it was my daughter and she came here to take me home. A warm sensation overwhelmed me in a moment, turning raging face in a smiley one, but that warmth could’ve been the blood, running through the circled wound in my chest.



General Kridock

Sun was up, shining on the meadows and grain plains where people have worked. Me, I was on the cart, riding next to an old men we knew as Kridock, General Kridock I should say. He was a strange silent man of long beard and sad eyes. Whenever he would look at me, I would recall of my late father that was serving him in war against Zaria. A long fur coat covered him and his broken boots. His hands showed the unspoken stories of fatigue and pain where scars deepen his back of the hand, outlining the fragile bones that once wielded blade.

We rode to one of the fields with bean-corn he planted to feed his family. Me and my brother agreed to help the old man, because his wife promised us few months of lunch. Soon he jumped from the cart like a young fellow, took the sicle, spit his tired hands and got to work.

– Though old man. – brother spoke with sparks in eyes.

– What did you expect? He was a general. He fought the Zarian Royal Mamluks and slayed the zarian auxiliary in one charge… Look at the crops. Like an army. – I pointed at the field where all of the plants lined up one after the other in almost unbelievable straight column.

The long trunks of the plant were solid with few leafs falling aside like small shields where thin weed around them played spears, and the bean-corn chacune looked like a short battle sword. All plants were like clones, the astonishing copy of the most developed, health plant, bravely staring at the deadly rays of the Sun.

– You must have done a lot of work here general to make these crops like this. – I said leaned on my side, observing the old man and his pride planted in dirt.

– Ay, I spent a lot of time with my boys. – he spoke without a turn and started to swing his sickle.

– Boys? You consider these plants your boys? – brother asked, then I elbowed his ribs and told them to shut up.

– Ay, I created them. They are mine… I created soldiers, men. I created war and doom upon our enemies and this crops will provide a feast for the men still marching the desert.

My brother and me just looked at each other when the brother gesticulated that the general might be mad. However, we had no interest in investigating that, so we silently fell to work beside him. The General’s eyes lit with every powerful swing of blade, teeth screeched, arms got more depicted with bulky veins and his face got covered in rage. My brother shook his head, watching the suffering of the old man, but me… I knew Kridocks torment. His action, precise and swift could mean only one thing. He was mowing down the Zarian infantry once again.

Sound of plant breaking, sickle running through the hollow trunks and rumbbing of the bean-corn didn’t sang the noise into the general’s ears, but instead of it, memory of Zarian dead soldiers cries played in his head as he imagined their tanned faces under his might.



Thomas Hiram Hotchkiss (1834-1869), Harvest Scene, 1858, oil on canvas.

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Valuvian Satellites

It all went down so quickly I haven’t had time to warn the others. The green hills outside of Alodar rustled in a breeze where smell of mountain lilies joyfully played over my nose. Hollow castle of Valuvian king sang the royal song as the weak breeze grew stronger and passed the punctured walls that rose high into the mist. It’s black peak held the rare gem which glowed in the darkest night and shined so powerful that even a rainy day was moderately lit. Blue sky was decorated with seven Garmin moons, each one as twice away from the next one. They made a white line across the devine arch where only the rings of the third moon peeked behind its guardian. A strange bird flew in the distance, moving in unnatural way like some spirit took it, and then the stars came down, falling mad from the azure air like the rain. Bird developed smoke on the right wing when one of the stars touched it with it’s unbearable flames. I was in awe, gazing at this horrid creature moving so unexpectedly to the sides, evading the stars.

– You, the unknown beast with wings made of light! What have you done, so the Heavens got mad at you? – I asked the buzzing grey being which turned its wings inwards and headed towards the heights, – How rude of you not to answer! – I grunted and continued my way, when the Heavens boomed and the fire darkened the sky turning its end in blood red specter.

The hills felt a warm wind on its hairy skin when the colors of the Heavens mixed and spilled all over the blue plain. The holes appeared in the sky, presenting night sky when it wasn’t it’s time to be seen and then the hail of disfigured stars punctured more holes streaming to the ground. Every star that connected with the ground elevated a cloud of dirt, every cloud exploded in tremendous noise and every explosion shook the very ground, blowing the heated wind in my face.

It lasted for couple more moments, then I saw our Valuvian moons breaking, sending white dust into the dark night that sparkled like royal bugs in the forest shade. Sky thundered in volumes, coughing fire on our Kingdom. My knees fell down for a prayer, but the last ring of the castle bell said it last when the grey bird hit it and broke into two pieces. A mound of dust settled at the castle base where fire consumed our lively town of Alodar.

– Our creator Garmin. What have we done to make you so mad? Please forgive us our insolence! Please, kindly please, Ooo the ruler of all that has a hart! Save us. – I did all the polite moves of prayer, but the God haven’t spoke to me, nor the moons shifted to its initial form.

After all of it passed, black holes appeared in the ground occupied with scorched fields and burnt grass. Jolly flames danced out from the castle where distant screams called for help. The colors were still mixing in the Heavenly plain where holes in it revealed the stellar void.



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Galactic Bitch

Hallways blared in alarms and red lights called for the elite troops to report to their battle stations. I glided through the shaft, grabbed the sniper on my way up and slowly swimmed in the air towards the door. Small drones exited their post and started knitting the combat suit on me.

– Unit 64 A at the cargo bay, frame 32 is closed. – I said gently tapping the rifle that opened and moved to it’s deadly form.

– Get back here! Who gave you the orders to detach from your place?! You are going straight to the military tribunal, you insubordinate bitch!

– Please repeat! I am losing you! Shchchhhshhh…. I-I… ‘m lo’… ng you. – I giggled while turning off the radio and entering a war capsule.

Upon entering the small room, power lit the walls and controls gave a sound of operational readiness. A tap on the panel, made it soft and easy to move, almost like a playing thing made out of liquid material that was protecting me. Muzzle breached the watery field and scope tapered at the incoming sauser. It was a figterjet drone, shapeshifter class with a busted engine. It slowly rotated toward our ship like it was dead in the space, but I knew better. I knew it could be a trick, so my eyelash flapped and the breath went still. Enemy’s cockpit presented a sweat spot and the bullet flew following the tunnelvision of the scope. It didn’t moved in aggressive way, so next couple of bullets ranged on the same spot knocking on the shivering platings. Still no answer.

– Is it dead? – I asked in the radio that thundered in commander’s shouts, but soon the lieutenant stopped arguing and leaned on the window to inspect the floating object.

– It’s alive! – he screamed when the drone opened it’s wings and pushed out his weapons.

Smart bullet guided the barrage of rockets that destroyed the vessel in a ball of fire. A smile consumed my face when one of our battle cruisers passed over the drone debris  and sucked it in for analysis.

– You are a galactic bitch, you know that. – commander spoke somewhat satisfied with my actions.

– So, I’m not to be judged by a bunch of fat men in a smoky room? – giggling passed the radio.

– No, but we will have to talk in the morning if you don’t leave my bed like you did today.

We continued our voyage in the designated route, marked in the digital screen that tapered the nearby galaxy and Gliza Minor with a specter of enemy planets we were headed to bombard.



Writing with Music


During the writing process I need a good beat. It motivates me to write fast and keep up the pace with the story. Since I tend to portray the combat scenes and “Blitzkrieg” attacks, break music of the 80′ and 90′ suits me the best. I also was raised in the 90′ so that brings me good memories and inspiration, since the 90′ period was written in blood in the Balkan region. It was common for me to fantasise about numerous young soldiers going to war, not knowing what war really is and so I tend to write about those stuff too. With the headphones on head and hope of returning home, describes the standard picture I had when I was younger, and that picture never left me. So, here are some songs that keep me sane and down to the ground, surrounded by pleasant feelings and bad memories that motivate me to shed the ink.


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