Night time blabbering 85

As I said yesterday, I was waiting for the guests today and they have arrived. My house is full to the back with people and relatives. This is a good opportunity for my mother to take her mind off the unfortunate events that struck her. She will have her hands full with two of her grandchildren while my duties will be to be around and play with them.

My sister appreciates this help so much, because she is with them all of the time. She could take rest for awhile and enjoy in some pease. My younger sister is here too and this is such a rare occasion that nobody wants to speaks about it like it would throw jinx on it.

For the first time this year the family is unified under one roof and there will be children laughing inside of our house. I couldn’t wish for anything more than this. Well, maybe I can, I would like to have a week of sun so I could take them outside in the nature. I could take them to see two month old lambs we have, two week old piggies and chicks that sleep near the hen. Hah, leaving on a farm has its charms.

I guess we will be throwing shows and pretend to be someone else, invent games and play with building blocks while rain pounds on the roof. Ugh, we will read books and play rancher where I will be acting a horse under my niece. Kitten doesn’t care about that.

Dronstad Kitten

For social links and stories, you can talk to Kitten, but I doubt she will give out informations.



The ship I stole from the last raid on our world was enough to glide pass their checkpoints and get close to their mother planet. Luckily, the ship had had the envoy markings on it so nobody dared to stop me without necessity. Even if everything ran smoothly, I couldn’t shake that feeling I was entering the wasp nest and about to do something really stupid.

“Welcome Sir. We haven’t expected you for another two years. Your visit wasn’t properly logged in our system…” The planet’s foreman spoke, his huge grey eyes shimmering with confusion.

“It is a sudden inspection, of course you will not see me coming. This is the way we see the reality of our forces and operations without you jumping in and showing us what you want us to see. Show me the troops that guard the planet.” I commanded and started walking like I’ve been here many times before and soon the foreman corrected my mistake because I was headed out of the base.

He led me to the corridors full with weird glowing orbs hanging like grapes on a vine. There were soldiers, all of them female and in sterile suits. These gals were carefully working with the orbs size of a medium watermelon. I tried my best not to look surprised and wonderstruck with the construction that rose few stories high into the ceiling where mist modulated.

“These are our Incubators. We have a full army in preparation. The officers units are settled to your custom design. DNA alterations with a foreign species is oddly working well Sir. This placenta shells are able to breed twice as bigger units than we did the last time. It is a valuable upgrade to our factory. If you would like, we can carve up one of the specimen for you to see their organs. It is truly a sight to see Sir.” The foreman spoke enchanted by the work that was done around this place thanks to the frequent kidnaps performed on Earth in order for them to learn about human body and brain.

There was another thing for us to teach them, because they couldn’t learn it for themselves. I was to teach them about the soul of a human, the one thing that couldn’t be seen, touched, examined and altered like every organ they harvested from us.

“No. I’ve seen enough. For an eye that knows what to search for, one glance at this facility is enough. I see everything is in order. Unfortunately, I am running low on time and I need to check on the outer parameter and see the movement of our troops toward the Earth. Ugh, an awful place, but rich with water.” I shook my head and foreman smiled at me.

Just when he turned around to lead the way, I stuck a syringe in one of the veins that ran on the floor. With a smile I started following him and hoped I would not need to return to this place.

I plagued their facility with something that has a long incubation period, just enough for their soldiers to grow up, board the battleships and reach Earth where all of them will just fall dead and give us weapons to advance against the invaders.


Clones Dronstad

Facebook & Twitter social links where I perform these sort of VIRAL posts.

And some healthy stories.


Bank Robber

Vanishing Storm

Night time blabbering 84

I am so glad I scheduled the latest post yesterday because I was outside for the whole day. My older sister is coming tomorrow with her children, and maaaan they are sweet like candy. Uncle will have his hands tied for a week or so. Use this post as the heads up for the absence of the stories and maybe a few blabberings. Sorry guys, not my intention but hey, I will have a lot of fun while you cry for my return. Ha, ha, HAAA! (evil smile) Burn!!!

Anyway, I saw how much out of shape am I. We are running low on firewood, so today was a day we planned on going for a lumber hunt in the forest. And boy, did we found some prime samples. Yup, there was hacking, slicing and dicing, and I got tired so much, my hands gave out. Seriously, I spent so much time around CPU that I became lazy and got out of shape. No worries, spring is around the corner and there will be a lot to be done during summer, so I will lose a couple of kilograms and get back my stamina. Ha-haaa yeah, son. Too bad I consider myself ugly as a graveyard in the dark.

It was drizzling today, the sky was gloomy and wind was harsh, but that only made me cool faster and work longer. Overall, it was a fun day. If you ask about other stuff I did, it is all on hold until further notice. All editing is in the low speed, cooking with the people I asked for help until my time becomes more open for that sort of work.

I will end it here. I must leave something for tomorrow. Here is the Kitten. She doesn’t chop wood.

Dronstad Kitten

Facebook & Twitter links that are not as lit as you hoped for.

And some fiery stories.

Neon fire

The great fire

Bon Appetite

Dronstad fun facts

I wrote the first part in the year 2014 and soon after that I wrote two more sequels in the year 2015. The story is settled in the country with no name, in the city with no name and focused on a character with no name, but that changed in the edit so country is known as Mithria and the one city is mentioned named Agra. I haven’t specified the continent where the plot is taking place.

The whole setting is placed in the country that was founded by the mercenary forces and refugees that were once captured in the ‘no man’s land’. Driven by the urge to survive, the country was born. Think of it like the birth of ISIS, just without terrorism and more of the Third World war that enveloped and abandoned a multicultural society aside. Rage, anger and vengeance is a drive that made country strive for power and grow rapidly by providing military assistance to the countries that had money to pay for the dirty and dishonest work where their (USA, Russia, China, India, EU etc.) hand must be preserved clean and without the stains of blood on it. This only led to a further growth of Mithria and paving a path to their own destruction. A rise to Superpower in the theater where we already have Super States, was a motion that couldn’t pass unnoticed and therefore every threat must be stopped at its base of origin. This attempts of course failed to perform to desired outcome, which only made these Super States a target to a new Super Power that is now coming in the full heat.

All of the things I said so far is just a pretext to what the novel is telling in ‘real time’ events that follow the character with a phantom mask on his face. As everything is happening in the cloud of mystery, the heavy fog covers the capital of Mithtia where the hero lives. The history of the Capitol, Agra and Mithria are well hidden from the civilians, mimicking the real world where WE as citizens of the Earth know very little about the politics that decide the course of actions in out behalf. A phantom (balaclava – ski mask) on the hero’s face is there to hide the features of the hero and ergo give YOUR face to his likable persona. The story is written in the first person and worldbuilding is semi-present to extent to catch on with the basic outline that is hidden in a thick fog.

The timeframe in which the whole things is developing comes after the revolution followed by a civil war that grew in the all out proxy war of mercenaries and Great Battle for Capitol. Nobody won the fight, but civilians still live in the city, but now divided between the gangs and the mafia cartels that run the metropolis turned to ash. The hero of the story, is in his own way, is searching for the answers that caused all of that to happen. It’s like the whole state just crumbled within itself and became a graveyard and pit of misery. He knows very little about the world he lives in and he constantly learns about the Super States and Super Powers that created this mess. Despite this mystery drive, the story is not adventurous and epic styled, but rather a slightly depressive and mind bending piece of writing. It is hard to pinpoint the genre of the novel because it is a mixture of nanopunk, cyberpunk, apocalyptic, mystery, action, futuristic and contemporary fiction all in one.


First, I need to start with the name. Dronstad – the way I called this novel, is a fabrication of two words Drone and Stad. I believe we all know what drone means, so let me explain the second one. Stad is an added word to place names, originally used by Nordic tribes in Scandinavia. Stad means something like the state, the place, residence, so DronStad is a place of drones, robots, machines. The name of the novel also has a double meaning, because the full name of it in my native language would be Dragon Stadium. Dragon, a mythical being and Stadium that translates to a ‘stage of development’. What this Dragon Project is about shall remain as a mystery for now. The coined name from this two words represents the combination of epic and futuristic. If you think about it, it is a clash of various things, mashed together with a hidden meaning that opens up only if you’ve read the book. The name should’ve spark the interest for the novel, and I can only hope that I gave you a crave for reading it.

In the novel, the city is divided between the gangs that hold different parts of the city. They are at war. The main gang I am talking about is called Black Dragons and their troops are referred to as Wyverns. This gang is made by the whites and it controls the center of the city, while beneath them is the infamous Underground, a mafia controlled maze of tunnels and underground garages. Inside the Dragon gang, there are frequent clashes and it is sort of irony for a gang made of white folks to be named after a Japanese spy organization that was active during the Second World war. Fun fact about the organization is that it was made by the white agents since it was hard for some Asian to blend in the rationally baren states like communist Russia, white Europe or USA.

The rival gang is of course made out of blacks and they are called Dreyfus Guerilla. Their troops are known as Panthers and they seriously hate the whites. Their fight is something that is talked about as a fight between black and white, good and evil.

The North is a fraction held by the rich people, those that built Mythria and raised a plasma wall to defend themselves from the deadly virus that plagues the south. The color of the northern uniform is white to symbolize purity and freedom, while the far south is made out of mercenaries that came to conquer the Capitol. When we talk about mercenaries, we all get that ‘black ops’ sort of feel so we usually connect them with evil, dark, shadows and just plain wrong feelings.

If you would zoom out for a minute, you could see that clash of white and black, good and evil, north and south, caucasians and negroes. But if you zoom in, you would see the fog, a grey place, concrete dust, white fog slithering over scorched black ground. You would see that even there are colors, everything falls to a grey area, a toxic and confusing storyline that is constantly mixing and clearing in the next moment. The challenge is to see the colors again, to draw a clear border, a line between those two. This is what I was trying to do. It’s all an illusion, a cluster of problems and monotony that we live in – a mirror image of reality.

The characters names are carefully planned and each name has a meaning in their native language. This also describes the personality of the character the hero meets on his way. To explain this even more, I will give you an example: Ja – Long Fang translates by meaning to Like a dragon Blade, or Sigurd Sverreson translates by meaning to Guardian The wild son, or Givon Ben Zev translates by meaning to The hill The son of Wolf. Nothing is by meer coincidence and everything has a meaning and all of it is symbolic.

The technicalities

The novel has six chapters, each chapter counting forty pages with partial paragraph that opens up the scene and fills the missing part and in some manner makes a mysterious cliffhanger that will be explained in the next chapter.

Each ten pages of every chapter has some big event that is important for the plot with informations that bring the storyline more clear. These big events form a relationship carrying a bigger information that is crucial for the history/hero/plot.

The scenes are written in a way where it would be easy to follow the development of the plot and give an easy way to be re-written to a scenario for a movie or a scheme for making a video game. The fractions are explained in a simple way to comprehend the lore. I even clarified the way the higher ranks are being formed and the technical requirements for a soldier to be upgraded so that is one of the useful informations for the game developers.

Gangs of Dronstad

The Intent

I have implemented various shocking scenes of violence and brutality, so you can expect a lot of gore images that I am now trying to tone down a notch in the editing because I don’t want my novel to stand out just because of them.

I wrote about decaying corpses, the smell and disgusting image of torture. There are a few scenes of rape, a violent abuse of a person and vile humiliating that will stir up your guts. All of these things are now being moderated and molded to somewhat more acceptable images. Of course there is a context that gives the intro to those scenes and I made sure there is a conclusion to them.

My intent was to challenge moral standing and try to make the reader really question his own principles regarding violent acts. The more you think about it, the less you understand it and the more you are closer to that violence. It is like a magnet that attracts us to our primal instincts to hurt each other and that is what I try to understand. How far will you go to protect your loved ones until you become mad, become a monster you are fighting? How much can you withhold and suffer before your mind breaks? How far is the boundary of humanity? These are the questions without an answer.

Would you like a taste of this problems? Here is a simple mind game.

Violence is bad, correct? Let’s say you easily answered that with a Yes.

If someone attacks you with a knife and you have a gun, would you shoot the assailant?

Again, the easy answer is yes, right?

Will that make you a murderer?

Even it is understandable that you acted in self-defence, you actions will still make you a murderer, so the answer to the question is Yes, you are a murderer.

This way, you justified the violence, so does this make you a hypocrite? How can you be against violence and in this simple scenario support it? Doesn’t this bother you?

Let’s make this even more interesting. Would you still shoot if the person who is attacking you is your best friend? Yes? No? What about if the person stabbing you is your lover? What about if the person that tries to kill you is your child? What about if that person is your pregnant wife?

Would you still shoot, or would you let it happen and die? What is more moral in these stories? Is your life more valuable than others?

See how easy is to get confused. The novel Dronstad is only looking for answers. I think I’ve said enough here. I won’t confuse you anymore. This is just something that I dedicated my writing to, even if I try to remain sane and hold my moral values up to a standard of logic and reason. The lines can easily be blurry, but we need to keep our eye on it and still find the difference between the good and the bad. Some evil can do good and some good can do evil. We still live in a grey world and sometimes I think it is better that way, because that is a common ground of black and white. See, there is one of the answers. The point is that you need to find your own.


Facebook & Twitter social links where nobody wants to socialize with me, but that is 0K.

And some stories to keep you at bay.

Gods don’t bleed (Full)

Drifting Shadow (Full)

Metal Genes (Full)

Night time blabbering 83

Here is the deal. You all welcomed me back, which was so nice of you and made me happy, but I can’t get back to my usual writing just yet. My life is just getting more confusing and hectic, so I must make a schedule when I blog and that might cause me posting one or two posts a day. I must inform you that my stories will come periodically when I have time to write them. Of course, I will try doing as many as I can so don’t worry about it.

I plan on keeping my blabbering as ‘must post even if the matter is about life and death’ type of importance while stories will get overshadowed. I already scheduled a post for tomorrow and I hope you will like it because I did some explanations on my novel, editing and everything I blabber about here.

Now, I know you soldiers were worried about my absence and you saw the post, so I will keep this short. I am 0K, everything is fine, we all got back to our usual. Nobody fell ill from grief, we keep doing our chores, the life goes on. Seriously now, I am at my normal state, but I miss the music the most. I am not allowed to listen to it for these 40 days dumb custom.

I’ve seen the last night game with my father, and I haven’t done that in years. Barcelona won over Chelsea and we were all glad about it, I don’t know why, I am not a sports fan. Yeah, we turned on the TV, but my parents avoid any sort of music and comedic program like it is heresy against our religion… which is a heresy against our religion, but that’s not the point. The point is, we can’t have fun and celebrate during those 40 days out of respect for the dead.

It’s not only me who is back. There is one more thing.

Dronstad Kitten

You want links? No, you never want those. You are here for the stories. I knew it. You will never love me for my personality. *dramatic fall at the couch and starts crying while covering the face with a sleeve.

Rise to lead

General Rile was  known to be a spiteful, stubborn man that had one of the largest armies working like a clock. Apparently, such might always had some goal of showing that might and crave for conquest that needed to be quenched or struck down. The head of our country decided to cut it rather let it burn through a neighbouring country and spill bad blood.

The morning was early when I arrived at the camp Sundevor where hymn was intonated and military trucks were passing by. I hoped for a long walk and contemplation over the propositions I wanted to give to the rogue General, but he sent vehicle for me – he didn’t wanted to waste time on paper pusher. I was dropped off to the building, a well welded metallic shed with a reinforced entrance. Stepping in, I smelled the smoke of his cigarette and I could’ve swear there was a scent of alcohol passing my nose.

Rile sat in his chair, rolling the map before him like being frightened I will tell his battle plans and alert the neighbouring country that was a few kilometres away from here. He showed me the chair and I pulled it from the table and sat on it, my eyes never getting away from him. No handshake, no smile or any gesture of welcoming a man that came with the orders. I knew that nothing good is about to happen and I didn’t wanted this to be any easier for him.

“So I see they haven’t bothered to send someone able to articulate a full sentence, but they sent me a boy to irritate me.” General Rile did curved his lip and smirked at me, disapproving the decision made on the top.

“They sent someone they were willing to sacrifice. Who is better to lead an old man more than a boy with a good vision?” I observed a change on his face with this insult, when General sat properly and closed his arms over the table.

“I eat boys like you for breakfast. If you were in my army, I would’ve take your ass on a flag post.” General gnashed.

“I doubt anyone would be willing to lay an oath to the flag of an asshole General, but you are free to fly under any flag you wish as long you fly it in the time of pease. Wars are a situations that demand lives of the boys like me and currently we value the life of those boys. We would like to see them alive and well.”

“They are here under their free will. Spare me of your laconic words. My mind is being steered to another problems that need attention. Speak why they have sent you and leave.” He leaned back uninterested in the words I was about to spout at him, but I jerked my head aside, gasped and cleared my throat.

“I wasn’t sent to speak, but to act. I am relieving you of your duties General.” I said and the General snapped at me, slammed his table and leaned over it.

“I would like to see you try boy!” His words hit me, but I haven’t flinched.

“Try is not an option. I play safe. It is a slow process but the only one that always brings victory. Media is already blaring about your reputation and deeds that brought you in this position. You can silently pull back and retire, or you can make a mess, it is your choice. I have papers from above offering the same deal to your officers. Either they will stay protected under the wing of our motherland, or they will die like traitors to the state that gave them bread. We are not eager to provoke a war and needlessly forfeit the lives of our soldiers. Those that defend can never be in the wrong and you aspire the violence.”

These words sobered the General and set him back to his chair. He looked at me, evaluating the words and my intentions. He rightfully felt betrayed, abandoned. He witnessed the situation he provoked and this was a reaction to his plans. There was no way he could get out of this one, so he did what he always done – he defied the orders.

Later that day, the iron rule punched him and those loyal to him. Over seventy officers were handcuffed and boarded in trucks. The military police escorted the General to the car and took him to Capitol. His army was dismantled and cut in pieces, sent to other corners of the land – never to unite again and my rule begun.



Facebook & Twitter social links where I constantly try to provoke you into a conversation but fail every time.

And some thought provoking stories.

The Flag

Defiance of the few (+18)

Robot Talk

Dronstad Q&A

As I promised, here are some questions and answers. I tried my best to give an explanations to the questions you posted me. If you have some more, I would be delighted to answer them too. So, without wasting time, here they are,

Stella asks: What do you do when you are not blogging?

Answer: I mostly doing editing on my novels and collection of short stories. Lately that is what defines my life. During summer, I am working on a family farm, work in the potato fields, collecting hay and other village type stuff. Blogging is a hobby for now, but I do plan on going with it as a business and monetize it, but those are just plans that may happen in some future.

Soiba asks: How do you beat writer’s block?

Answer: The best way to deal with it is to write regularly and have a discipline in writing. If you end your writing day with a cliffhanger, it is easier to continue tomorrow because your enthusiasm with the story you write won’t abandon you. I also do a hardcore thing and that is to write forcibly and just plow through the block. You can also use „title managing“ to spark your creativity and just make a dozen titles for the stories you plan doing, but then write those that shake up your imagination the most.

Michael asks: What’s your best piece of work?

Answer: I am too subjective about this, so my answer can’t be the correct one. I would say I like Ramgorian Mind Games the most, as that is one of the most original thing I’ve done in a long time. I do have hopes that my novel will be the best piece I’ve done, yet I write everyday so the next thing I would write in the future can easily overshadow my beginnings. The time will tell.

Joseph Beech asks: Would you rather fight 1 horse size duck or 100 duck size horses?

Answer: Hmm, the challenge would be to take on the horse size duck, but hundred horses seems easier. This is the number game and it is better to have one opponent instead of hundred. Tactically, it would be easier to face the one horse size duck rather to divide your attention on hundred duck size horses.

Also, horses are not able to fly or gave that much of a ‘horse power’ that small, so using your legs to kick them would be much easier that evading the wide beak of a duck. It all depends on a weapon I am allowed to have. If I would to face my enemy bearhanded, I chose fighting the horses. Their bone structure is far easier to crumble with a kick that something sinnery like a duck.

I would fight the horses.

The real question is, why would I fight the horse sized duck or hundred duck sized horses?

Dronstad Kitten

So these are the questions and answers You had for me. I look forward in answering more of them if more questions arise. I hope this gave you some satisfaction. If not, do ask whatever you want beneath this post.

Stay well my Commanders in Quill. March on and stop for no one.

Here, have some links where you can post your questions too. Facebook & Twitter

Memento Mori – Burial customs of Serbia

Death came on the March 3th in 5 o’clock. The grandmother was in her 85th year, very ill and suffering from dementia. For the whole day, nobody have seen her sitting in front of her house, no neighbour talked to her, so my brother from the uncle side called the police to break in. They found her on her bed and assumed she was sleeping, but when they saw she wasn’t moving, not even breathing, they called the ambulance. After the doctor came, he could only confirm the death and so the coroner was summoned.

It was 15:00 o’clock when the coroner made his analysis and determined that the grandmother died of natural causes. My sister came to the grandmother’s house and have seen what is going on. She then called my mother and in the 19:00 we departed for Niš, a city where my mother’s mother lived.

Upon arriving to the house, we found that neighbours were taking care of my grandma. They gave her a rough bath with the sponge, dressed her in the new clothes and placed her in the coffin. Before she was laid in the coffin, they placed a clean white sheet at the bottom, a blanket on top of that, a white cloth on top of that, then they placed the body in and made a few more layers of clothes over that. Because the death was fast, there was no spillage so the coffin was left open.

Her hands were crossed on her chest, the eyelids closed shut, a red thread of wool was laid over the body in the symbol of a cross. It is considered a protection from evil spirits and it is a popular superstitions belief among the Serbs.

The coffin was put on the table and a pot with sand was laid at the place where her head lied. Candles were lit and stuck in the sand. Neighbours were coming to say their farewells to the deceased. There was also a vessel with water under the table and all chairs were positioned in the way where nobody could turn their back at the coffin.

The long night began where relatives are being informed about the situation, the burial is being planned, the all out crying could start.

According to customs, people who come to say goodbye to passing relative, they would leave a few dimes for the candles on a tray intended for that, bring a kilogram of sugar, a liter of oil and a 100 grams of coffee. They would then state their sympathies and move in the circle to tell the same to other relatives and approach the table with a different tray.

At this point, every visitor will pour some wine in the vessel with wine, pour some rakia in the vessel with rakia and eat a bonbon. They would light a candle and leave it in the pot with sand. They would sit on one of the chairs and mourn for a few hours.

Those close to the deceased are not allowed to sleep. Morning comes with other things to be done. This is the burial day. At this point, most of the stuff are set in motion. Gravediggers are hired and showed the burial place where they need to dig. The restaurant in being reserved and burial scheduled. The priest is being informed and ceremony planned, but there is a lot more to be done at home.

Žito must be prepared. Žito is a dish made from boiled wheat grains and sweetened with sugar and mixed with grinded walnuts. The undertaker brings the wooden cross and the obituary printed. There is also a piece of black cloth that needs to be nailed near the entrance with an obituary on it. The rest obituaries are being taped for the lamp posts to inform the neighbourhood of when the burial will take place and where.

People are gathering again for the burial and family members are being elected to perform the duties. There needs to be a crossbearer, a candle bearer, a žito bearer and six coffin bearers. Each one of them has a towel tied on their left arm. Everybody’s wearing black clothes and black insignia is being delivered to those that need to mourn for the deceased for 40 days, the days needed for one’s soul to travel from the world of living to the world eternal.

In the  designated time, the whole column in exiting the house in the next order. First comes the crossbearer, then the tandem of candle bearer with the žito bearer and after them comes the coffin. The column is being followed by the neighbours and the other relatives.

They all get in the cars and are headed for the church. The coffin is being placed on a stand in the middle of the church with a candle lit above the deceased head. The icon is then laid on the coffin and the cross above it. The priest is now holding a eulogy for the body and prays for her soul. He uses the smoking incense to make circles around the coffin while the present burial crew stands near the wall.

After the prayer is recited, the column picks up the coffin and they start a march for the burial place. Before the hole is dug out, the cross is being made with streams of wine over the black soil that will soon receive a coffin.

The coffin is now laid on the wooden beams that close the hole and priest now uses the solution of wine and oil to perform a custom. He makes a cross over the closed coffin and recites another prayer. Žito is being poured onto the coffin and flowers thrown over the coffin, and then the whole thing is being lowered in place. After that, people throw some dirt on top of the coffin, symbolising the help of burying the loved one. The gravediggers finish the rest while the column goes to the restaurant to attend the feast in the name of the passing friend.

Tragic Comedy

The whole this things is one of the biggest manic running around trying to hold on tears and prepare everything in time that you don’t have. At every burial, you have one of the old ladies that knows the best and if there are two, there is a verbal fight over the coffin and dispute on the customs and it is pretty funny to watch. In that crowd, you have someone who just keeps his thought to himself and just sadly gasps when the room is the most quiet. This can’t pass without a local drunkard that only comes to this sort of things to drink rakia and if you add in a couple of people that are always sick, you get a circus.

And I almost left out a person that is trying to get the drunkard really drunks and fuels the fire in between the bickering old hags. If you are looking for a voice of reason, there is none.

I must mention the 40 days again. It is believed that soul needs to travel from one world onto another in that time, and that is also the reason why newborn babies are not allowed to exit the family home. After those 40 days, it is safe for them to meet the world.

For those 40 days the family members mourn, it is also a custom that every morning, the closest relatives must visit the grave and bring nourishment for the deceased and so every morning we make a picnic on the graveyard. The big picnic comes on the first Saturday, the 40 days and then every year in the same time the burial took place.

While these 40 days last, no celebration is allowed, so nothing that runs on electricity or that is used for fun must not be used during this period of mourning. You can imagine my agony of avoiding music because I got used to it so much, and me being away from the computer. I just don’t like it, but this is my grandmother we are talking about and so I have to obey the custom and follow it through because of my mother that was the hurt in this story.

My mom had to get out from the hospital in order to take care of this burial. My family was close by to help, but we couldn’t make it all go away. You try saying the comforting words, you hand over the tissues, but the pain is there. And don’t make me start talking about all of the chores on the farm that need to wait until we deal with this thing. Good thing I am not planning on getting married any time soon, because I will have to wait for a year to get back at the wedding plans. Yeah, the custom says there can’t be no celebration in the mourning period, so no weddings, no parties, no dancing, no singing, no music – nothing.


I would like to thank my fellow blogger that were interested in my absence and sent me the kind words. I hope this explains the time I wasn’t here. I would’ve reply if I had time, but alas, the life is not fair. I will have to space out my blogging, but rest assure, I am fine.

Thanks once again, my Quill Commanders for being the way you are.

The Flag

With the first boot on the ground the Commander looked around the ruins and at our men getting breakfast. I waited for him to give him my report, so I saluted him and cleared my throat. He didn’t minded the number, he was more taken by the image that captivated him.

– My God. What did you do here? – he asked, his mouth opened wide in horror.

– It wasn’t us Sir. It was the enemy. They just didn’t wanted to give it to us that easy so they ordered their artillery to fire as they pulled back. They’ve been doing this for some time Sir. Don’t you read the reports I send you? – I tried to clean my face from all of the dirt that stuck on it, and made a resting grimace he didn’t care to look at.

The Commander started walking toward the building, stared at the side of it blown off and showing homes of the people who lived there. He couldn’t peel his eyes off of the things he saw inside, an image so haunting he never could have imagine before.

His boot kept walking, bringing him to the base where all of the rubble slided down to a hill that if he would to climbed it, he would be inside of the children bedroom. Right there at his feet, he saw a fabric, a dirty old rag that was covered with concrete dust and holes when fire burnt through here.

He lifted the fabric and shook it to see the flag of our enemy. He stared at it like to an artifact and he then turned to me.

– All of this to make a nation. The destruction, the blood, the lives lost.. All because of the blue piece of fabric? – he murmured to himself, but I heard him.

– It is not the fabric that they adore Sir, it is what it means to them. That brings it value. Apparently it is worth more than life, when they keep watering it with blood. – I said and the heavy silence that followed remained all the way when the Commander got back to his vehicle and drove away.


Flag Dronstad

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And some stories I fabricated myself.

Defiance of the few (+18)

Robot Talk

Vanishing Storm

Night time blabbering 82

I’m sleepy. I will be going to bed as soon I make this post. I managed to do a lot today. I also did that story I told you about. In the last minute corrections, I deleted the gore parts so it won’t be that shocking. It really had room to become the darkest thing I ever wrote, but that wasn’t much of the point since characters can give the same impression with their behaviour. I am still thinking about should I make it  full on story or just leave it here. I might start something new tomorrow.

I have planned to read more tomorrow and just rest from all this work. Subconsciencly I am questioning that decision, because I have work to do and yet I chose to NOT do it. Even if I make plans, I am not sticking to them, so I could just change my mind and work. I am not that decisive lately, but I am making some progress.

I want to remind you that I will be doing Q&A in some time next week, so if you have a question for me, please leave it in the comments on this post.

As always, the Kitten.

Dronstad Kitten

As I said, I am sleepy, so browse for stories yourself.