Belgrade, Serbia – a forgotten place, desolated and baren of life. What happened in the 90’s was a shift in the ground, nothing more. Years passed from the real earthquake that was an all out World War 3. We never wanted to bow to super states and tried to stay unaligned, yet whatever flew above us was met with a counterstrike and so this happened.
The change came rapidly with thousands dead on the first day. Hospitals were overwhelmed with the sick pouring in from all sides of my little state. Military was ready to get in the fight, but there was no enemy, only acid rain and thunderstorm that kept people locked in home. Even now I hear the cries echoing in those dark places, long lost souls wandering between the walls, atomic dogs barking at me if I come closer.
Months later, our water turned to poison from whatever sank in the ground. States at war made peace, but never payed attention on us. Who cares about third world countries?
It is all a distant memory now. I am afraid I will forget it. I count the days without a person on the street or in the bush outside the Belgrade. It is like I am the only one left. Shadows travel in this ghost town, only if the Sun breaks through the stormy clouds and sheds some light.
Wolves became unfazed with my presence. I guess they recognize that both of us are in this hellhole. They feed on the dead and I let them. Full bellies don’t run fast. It is a question on the day when their fangs will pierce my neck and devour me, but I still let them get their fill on meat.
Here I am, counting days, afraid to gasp properly and overdose on toxic air. Me and my wolf pack.