R39

I love roads. I could spend my entire life in car. I remember the time when I was driving through north of Italy towards Switzerland. Not a single euro in my pocket, don't have money to pay the toll. Italians have those electronic payment system. No stopping, they just zip through the gate. I set my car just before the toll and wait. When Italian car zooms through I slip behind. I rode the gates all the way to Milan. Then I turned north. Wonderful roads. Four-five tracks in each direction. All vacant. I step on the gas and observe the snowy peaks slowly rising above the plains. Marvelous vistas. But devoid of life. I waited for several hours before someone showed up to help me ride the toll gate. I can't go back. Dusk brings young Italian girl in her Volvo. As soon as I am through I sigh in relief. As if I can already sense the sharp cold air of Swiss mountains.

R38

Lars the Fox kissed his wife and left the shack. Pulling tighter straps of his backpack, he smiled at this summer day. Walking past the Cat's home he wistled. Parting the beaded strings, head of mrs Murrrmitah appeared. She smiled and waved.

- Give me a moment to leave breakfast for my Buzzan, then we are off. Um... where are we going today, again?
- I thought we should visit the ridge, that's where I left off yesterday...

Murrmitah nodded and again disappeared behind the strings. She showed up before Lars had time to roam too far. She found him next to cart wagon of mr. Through

- Greetings mr. Moussey - she meowed.

Light cart were pulled by two fluffy bee-beast bulls and grayfurred mouselike Through struggled to keep his giant bees balanced and steady.

- Bless your heart - he squeaked.
- Don't worry, master Thro', we will be on the ridge if you need us - said Lars.

Murrmitah was already hurrying up the path that was taking her to the northern slopes. She didn't like bee-beasts, but she was too proud to admit that she is actually afraid of them. "That fur... is somehow... ungodly... ewww", she thought for herself.

- Then, see you round - Fox yelled back at mr Moussey and rushed to catch up with his friend.

R37

Creature lumbered out of the forest. Even slouched it was taller then a tallest man. Dark skin of chestnut color seemed covered with lumps and bumps. Jawline had mossy hair crawling all over. Eyes were slanted and beady, bloodshot and his nose thin and elongated so the tip was over its mouth. Purple tongue flickered between rows of pointy teeth.

Guards were terrified. Falling over each other. Spilling the cauldron. Campfire hissed with plumes of smoke.

Teacher calmly put away his bowl and stick. Kira jumped to her feet, losing her cardigan. With smash and gurgling, troll slammed against the city walls. Teacher rushed towards the beast. Kira watched as guards were scampering to escape, then started trotting after her teacher.

R36

You entered my dreams by cutting the queue. I barely even know you. We are bound by death of a woman that was dear to both of us. To you, actually the best friend. To me just an acquaintance, but of that kind that leaves a deep mark.

You remember me from the high school, but I don't recall you. Only later I did manage to remember that bubbly blonde crazy girl, as I could not believe that the lady in pink suit is the same person. Back then you were not a dream, but reality, though unusual, almost surreal.

It was an awkward meeting. Your best friend is the main character of my novel. I didn't know that she was no longer alive, while I was weaving her into the other side of reality, her name unrevealed by the magic of writing. To you she was almost everything, to me almost nothing. And yet, her personality touched me and inspired me to make her home within letters and words. She was moving unrestrained between this and the other realities, while you and me were separated by invisible weaving that connected us. We were groping for a crack, trying to find a point of connection. Something that would make it easier for you to approach. Something that will alleviate my impression that I'm the worst scum you've ever encoutered.

Maybe I am that rogue. Maybe that's why I let you in my dream. Maybe it wasn't even your frist time to encroach it...

R35

We came together. You yelled something. I groaned. Now we are just laying in the bed, crumpled. I am happy. Becuase you are so juicy. Because you know when to bite and where. Because you have curly hair that smells of nettle shampoo. Beacuse you wear those soft fabric shirts wide enough so I can see your ample bosom. Because you are beautiful only to me.

You reach for something and produce a cigarette. I look at you, slightly taken aback. You light your ciggy and thirstily take a drag. You smile at my astonished face.

"You didn't know that I'm a smoker?" you ask.
I shake head, no.

"You know nothing", you sigh.
I shrug and smile, slightly embarrased.

"Do you know how long we are together?" you ask me.
My smile disperses like smoke of your cigarette.

"Do you know what's my favorite movie? What's my favorite food? What's my sister's name?"
"I know that" I hurry to confirm.
"What else do you know?"
Your cigarette's ashes end up in glass next to our bed. I frown. This is not like you. That much I know.

"Do you even know how old I am?"
I guess you are my age. We went to same elementary school, later we went to different high schools, but we enrolled at uni in the same time.

"We can't go on like this", you say after long pause.
"Biljana, what did I do wrong? What's the matter?"
"I don't want to live next to you like a ghost."
"What are you talking about... we are a couple, we're having fun."
"Only it's no longer so fun for me"
"Oh don't be like that, I'll improve."
"You said that for my birthday, and nothing changed."
"What do you mean, some things did change, didn't they?"
"I am going to finish my uni and you are what... still at your first year?"
"...second."
"I can't carry you any more."

More than the fact that you are leaving me, hurts the fact that I know what you mean. Being left I will deal with later, while I will be running down the riverside trying to spit out ball of searing lava that will be rumbling up an down my lungs.

R34

Someone would say that the appartment was silent. You can, however, hear the pendulum of the clock. Ticking off big chunks of seconds. Tiny ones are being coutned by the clock in the stove. Besides, the chair is squeaking, thin frail woman sitting on it. She reads a book and from time to time pushes her glasses up to ridge of her nose. It's Anna. She wears pink bunny slippers. Wearing no socks, and since she had hair removal recently, her is smooth, almost glistening. If it wasn't so thin and boney, it would be considered widely as rather pretty feminine leg. She wears woolen dress of light color reaching to her knees. Old fashioned, but practical and comfy. Her black knitted cardigan covers pale plush PJ top which once was yellow.

She is going to sit like this for hours.

I will open the door and enter the appartment. I will hang my coat and put away my businsess bag. I will be exhausted. I will try to be cheerful. My smile will be banged up, but polite. I will ask what's for dinner. I will not wait for an answer. I wil go to the kitchen pretending I don't hear horrendous chopping of seconds that stove clock is doing. I will also overlook the fact that fridge has been raided clean and that someone who was tasked to go grocery shopping didn't go do it. From this and that I will whip up an omelette. I will bring it to living room. I will eat at the table. Anna will ask to bring her plate next to her rocking chair. She will eat only half. I will carry the leftovers in the kitchen and eat them there. I will put away dishes on the pile of dishes in the sink. Smashed, but smilig, I will move to bathroom. I will have long shower. Made dizzy by heat, I will sneak in the bed, next to frigid Anna.

And that's why we neve were a couple.

R33

It was surprising to me that you agreed to date me after all the years. Maybe something made you realize I'm not that uncool guy. I did enroll in that experimental high school, and you were so hyped about those kind of achievements, though you did date jocks. Maybe it was the attention. Sometimes I would get overboard, I give you that, but still. Every day I was feeding you with reasons to feel like a goddess. Maybe it was your calculating shrewdness. You figured out that I would be good and loyal husband. But even at our dates, we were not boyfriend and girlfriend. Since that first moment when we met at the university and went for a cup of coffee. We never kissed in the darkness, and you never let me cup your breasts. Not even when we moved in and when we didn't break that club table when we didn't roll off the bed. It was all just a fulfilling of form. Though it seemed real it was just railroaded journey. You didn't mind the absence of passion. I didn't mind that we didn't end it all. Behind the passion there were two powerful thigs to keep us glued. Your calculation and my hope. Stupid hope that something will change. That you will see me. Or that desire I was harboring for you nearly decade and half will finally be quenched. Maybe both of us should have been smarter. Couple that met in the elementary school? Isn't that a recipe for a disaster of Hollywood proportions? I don't know, maybe for some people that's recipe for success, but they cling to each other dearly. I did get what I desired, but it was not what I wanted. So long once more time and good bye my sweet stupid coutnry girl.

R32

I can't tell you much more about Barbara. It's not that I don't remember her. Moreover, I do record well her thick hazel locks, worried face with high set cheekbones, her chocolate colored eyes. I remember her plaid skirt, white socks and autumn 'kickers' shoes as well as red cardigan, which she tried to keep closed with her arms crossed. We talked on my way from the music school to my elementary school. I was surprised to see her. She spoke to me as if I should know her. She was speaking fast and asked many questions, though she knew all the answers, revealing them before I would manage to speak them. That was really a strange encounter, as if Barbara was a visitor from the future or another dimension. Maybe in her memory I was an interrupted line, but for me she was just a speck from the past.

What if I waited for her after solfeggio to carry her bag? Would I ask her something? I believe that walking next to her I wouldn't be so stammering and shy as I was around other girls. I would notice that she smelled of elderberry. I would loved to observe her fingers as she would take white hankie from her purse. She would wipe her palms and crumpled cloth would simply disappear as if it knows that it doesn't belong with the lady. Would we walk along each other from elementary school to high school and beyond? Would she be seated by my side while I don't understand any of the Roman Law lesson, inhaling her fragrance of peach marmalade and roasted almonds? Would she charmingly sigh, worried for me? How far would she go? Would she endure all my idiocies? Or would she part with me, with heavy heart? Or would I, too, disappear on my own like crumpled handkerchief?

R31

To each other, we became nothing but memory from the old kindergarten photos. I met her briefly in the park. Our neighbourhood had two elementary schools and we ended up in separate ones. That wasn't so bad, we did go to same high school. There was invasion of students from the countryside. Whirlwind of strangers, strange accents and customs made us stick together. At first it was just brief moments at recess that we shared, exchanging smiles, sipping coffee, complaining about this or that. When schoolyard ceased being so scary, our ritual chitchats became scarcer, and smiles were rarer and farther in between. I was sort of waiting for her to make the move. I shifted away hoping she will grope for me. Maybe she would have if it wasn't for one of the country girls. One of those girls who moved to big city and learned how to apply make up, shedding their fear of boys, one of those girls simply mowed me down like harverster plows through the corn field. I tried to hide the fact that I was dating urbanized hillbily girl. The looks my old flame from the kindergarten gave me were not full of despise. It was just my hope. We just met too soon. Whatever comes in the years before self awareness simply falls off like baby teeth. It was not given time to exist. Just a part of natural order, destined to die. Like frogs who carry no memory of the tadpoles, we simply forgot about each other.

R30

"Mommy, mommy! Look! Airplane!" Nel yelped excitedly.
Scared the crap out of me. It was night and she was on the balcony again. I rushed to fetch her. Clouds were deployed above the city and searchlights cut the darkness.
"It's not a plane, it's a dragon" I said, picking Nel in my arms. "They are trying to shoot her down."
Thunderous crash echoed from afar, answered by roar of the angry mob. Tonight will be the night that ends our need to hide. It should feel like a relief, but it didn't. Something was clenching hard choking me in my chest. Humans will be exterminated.

I took Nel back inside, dropped her in the armchair. I wondered who else in our building is a monster. I fought back the change, desperately clinging to my human shape. If it wasn't so sad it would be funny they way I was trying to stay in their skin, walk in their shoes. I was reluctant to change, trying to guess wether the revolutionaries will turn out to be rats, or cockroaches.

Moment of being lost in thoughts brought them to my doorstep. I jumped in the lobby, already armored with thick fur and armed with razor sharp claws. In my human female shape I would stand no chance to stave them off. Squeaks and pugnent odour of the sewers revealed that the mob was made of rats, after all.

"Hello neighbour!" They squealed and snickered. "We brought you something... gift from new neighbourhood!'

Good, I thought. They will keep away from us at least for a while. They were too busy conducting their bloody orgy decimating humans. Maybe they were simply afraid. My color signature was not yet blue, but still in red shades. I opened the door and snarled at them. Before they scrattered and ran away, they tossed in a body.

It was Tsana, a neighbour girl from third floor wrapped in her house gown tied down. She fell on the floor and moaned, then smiled revealing thin, almost needle-looking fangs.

Night buttefly.

Could it be possible that of all the monsters, I have just this feeble harlot on my side. "Nel, sweetie, help me set Tsana free, me must get going" I said to my child and went to change.

* * *

The gathering was repulsive. All the blue guys in one place. Now even my fur was blue colored. If I had to guess I'd say I was in the middle of the mob of reds. Aruging went on for five hours and counting. They didn't stop squabbling. That was the advantage of the red monsters, uniformly united by hunger and thrist for blood that didn't know for democracy.

Finally the dwarves ceded to the robots the rights to quench fires. Arguing subsided, only to be replaced by whining and chorus of complaints which turned this gathering into a pityful shape of wretched refugees, rather than grand council of all the good monsters...

R29

As soon as I stepped out of the house on to the porch, I ran down a few metal steps. Hurriedly turning to the right, towards the garage, I was stopped dead in my track, whacked by some thing. It was a knobbly walnut branch stuffing my face with leaves. I waved it away and ducked under the garage roof. My intention was to simply open the gate and walk to my car, but even the few steps were interrupted by slash across my upper arm. It was a chinese cherry tree. What could I do, but ignore the thin streak of blood trickling, so I entered my car and slammed the door. Goshdarn trees is haunting me all day every day. Take the peach tree for example. It spits on me, spittles, I tell you! So there I am in my hammock trying to relax, enjoying the soft rustle of the leaves. All of a sudden I'm sprinkled with some kind of watery spit. Pines just went dry. As if they simply willed themselves into withering, their needles turned to rock, cut like razors. I shiver when I think I'll have to uproot those bitching trees. Fig is on strike... she gave fruit once and never again. But at least she is not trying to injure me. The peach is the worst. Just as I lean and think I can move under the lowest branches, there comes another one out of nowhere and just whacks me. When the night comes, peach pulls my hair and knock my hat off my head. I feel trapped. If I move towards the shed, tree whacks me from the left. If I move to the yard it threatens me, so trying to avoid it I fall in the fir tree and got all pricked by the pine needles. There is a power cable there, swallowed by ivy, can't see it in the darkness, almost broke my neck tripping against it. I don't know why is the tree so evil, but I won't tolerate it any longer. From now on I'll break every branch that gets in my way. Heck theese trees better watch it or they will have war on their hands!

R28

He took a stone and turned it a few times in his hand as if searching for markings. Tossing that one in the water, he moved to find another pebble. Stubby fingers caressed the beach and picked a new stone. He didn't pick a piece of green glass made murky by grinding. He avoided a few flat stones and that chunky one, deciding to go with simply a smooth pebble. As if there was never before ever another pebble, he excitedly brought it up almost to his nosetip, giving it close inspection from all sides. Not because he wasn't happy with the way it looked, nor because it didn't have the markings. He was simply dissatisfied with the shape. So the stone flew into the water, as if he wanted to say 'that's where YOU belong'. He was already on to hunting for new stone, twiddling his chubby fingers.

R27

River plunged into the lake. Lena floated a bit away from the waterfall, where the surface was no longer foaming. Water was very cold, but not enough to quench fires burning inside Lena. Left hand was still twitching, from pinky finger through base of index finger and down to her wrist. Tingling in her right arm flowed radiating from the elbow. Nipples were hard, contributing to strong goosebumps that goaded sparks of pleasure to flow down her chest towards her solar plexus, then curving towards ribs, left and right, almost gathering at her diaprhagm. Quivering joy teased her sense of touch. It seemed to Lena as if someone is caressing her back, from shoulders to butt, almost all the way to her tailbone. It was right there that tingling and sparks melded with heat that emanated just under her navel, seeping down her thighs. Her knees were almost vibrating, as if this heat was again transformed to current that tickled her shins and stinging her toes. From time to time, she would kick with her legs, partly to keep afloat, partly to give in to the urge which impelled her to have a good stretch and test her legs with powerful kick. She was thirsty. Still parched even after dozens of gulps of the lake's cold water. Cracked lips burned with heat. She could feel her ears glowing, pulsating with warmth. Eyelids were heavy, inviting her to close them and fall asleep. Maybe she would oblige, would it not for the desire of her body which demanded action. She craved swimming, running, jumping, flying. She turned and looked at Ambroze. Thick gray beard and hair covered his chest down to his belly button. He flailed his withered ancient arms, trying to cover his, also graying, pubic hair with his drinking gourd. Hanging balls moved pendulously, as he was trying to find his way to enter the lake. "Is it too cold?" wheeze Ambroze. Lena smiled and turned to swim towards the shore "Not at all, it's very pleasant..."

R26

She was seated in the rocking chair. Held her hands in her lap, as if she was hiding them under unfinished lacework. White crocks almost matched black rolled down socks. Wide denim dress with straps barely covered her knees. Crumpled handkerchief, the color of fresh grass, protruded from the chest pocket. She wore black knitted cardigan over long sleeved mustard yellow tshirt.

Gray broken hair that was once golden she kept tucked in red rock n roller's vintage kerchief. Skinny elongated face was pronounced by high set cheekbones. Lips looked as if coated with bright color of chrysanthemum. Clear sea colored eyes softened somewhat her withered appearance.

"It is hard to believe, I know, but I was once young, too", she said with the voice that could have belonged to male or female.

R25

Sanya sweeped her axe too high and wide. Maya easily dodged the blow, going low, almost touching the ground with her knees. Using the momentum, she sprung forward, sliding towards the astonished opponent.

Standing literarily tête-à-tête with Maya, Sanya wasn't able to swing her weapon, so she let the axe fall from her hands. Proximity, however, was also preventing Maya to hit hard. Instead, she hailed Sanya's neck with short stabbing blows, with no apparent effect. Sanya already managed to jump away, giving the long legged Maya a chance to add swift kicks to her storm of blows. Maya's kick didn't connect hard with Sanya's knee, but it did hit the right spot and Sanya lost her stance, slipping and tilting towards Maya's left side.

Red haired warrior lady seized the opportunity. Skidding foward, she used her short charge to jump kick and whack at Sanya's right shoulder. Power of the flying kick made Sanya twist her hip, flailing her left arm in the air. Maya grabbed that arm and spinning deftly as she landed, used the inertia to throw her enemy.

Sanya's body fell on the floor like a sack of rice. She didn't move.

R24

He was lucky. Leaf he used to wipe his ass was wide enough to cover the entire critical area, yet wasn't stinging, thorny or coarse. Groan came out of pleasure, not relief, when he heared hustling down by the lake shore.

He laid low, unable to decide wether to pull up his breeches or remain hidden as first priority. Through the leaves he managed to see a black clad figure and he decided to be still. Newcomer climbed down to the lake then after brief respite, moved again.

Using the moment of rustle by the strange figure, he pulled up his breeches as and tied them tight. Then went on all fours and climbed up the rocky outcrop overlooking the shore. Though branches and bushes obstructed some of the view, he did manage to see curly red hair and a bit of skin. Only when figure waded into the lake water, he noticed it's a girl. He hugged the rock tighter, craning his neck like a turtle, hoping to catch a glimpse of something more than red lock of hair and naked shoulder.

Just when he was ready to give up, girl decided to stand up. Flaming red locks ran rivulets that caressed her shoulders, small breasts, dissipating around her hips. Nipples were small and dark red, and her bush just a whisp of hazel color. Her ribs were visible, even more pronounced once she raised her left arm, wiry rather than lithe. Pale skin was dotted with dark discoloration stamps; above her hip, inside her knee, just under her breast, next to clavicle. Considering the space, irregular color and shape of the smudges, he concluded those must be bruises. Not simple bruising, but proper bloody hematomas.

R23

Sky was strewn with pink clouds. Treetops of birches that sprung along the spring fluttered their bright green leaves. Their shimmering, however, couldn't compare to flashes just behind the hilltops on the horizon. Somewhere towards city of Nish, artillery was pounding.

Village was long ago abandoned. There was not much to even burn let alone pillage. The Colonel's horse we had to feed corn, because he didn't want even to come close to the mouldy hay from the stables. In fact, that devilish horse calmed down only after he bit off Danailo's index finger. Destrier whinnied as if he was mocking us, taking long time to chew on the bloody stump.

Colonel Bogdanoff asked, eventually, that entire hamlet be torched, but we had hard time with that, too. Damp hay simply didn't catch fire, but when it did, village was consumed as if we splashed it with petrol.

I swear on my mother's grave, the fire burned blue, hue of the sea, hue of shallows, shadows dancing almos turqouise, just like on the beaches of Corfu.

R22

He was falling along with other officers, chunks of concrete, broken planks, signed paperwork and coffee cups caked with sediment. Spinning mid-air he saw a black smudge and flailed his arms towards it, as if trying to swim. He didn't manage to close in, but he got the idea what to do next. Leaning against the sky which looked like smeared watercolor painting, he kicked back with his elbow couple of times. It got him spinning and creeping closer to the smudge.

It was actually a plot hole. Encrusted with thin layer of disbelief.

He punched the blackness a few times and the otherwordly started glistening through. While some officers were already cruhing through the pine trees, painting them red and turning to ground meat, Miles managed to catch a grip on the plot hole's edge, then push himself up enough to put his torso through the hole.

R21

We made base camp just above the abandoned hotel. Approach by car was difficult, so we used the wide ski track and cable car erected by the previous team. You could take snow plow from hotel to first village houses, and on from there using the paved road. To the mountaintop you could only get by climbing, following the set lines if you had showshoes and icepick.

Beside basic gear and supply tent, base was made up from shipping container we converted to HQ. That meant incessant radio chatter, and gas stove was always on, pot bubblng either with tea or bread panada. We gathered there to catch breath, exchange word or grumbling complaing with our team mates.

Father entered the container, shaking snow off his shoulders. Snow was falling in small lumps resembling brown sugar. He approached old metal frame bed and landed dirty transporter bag on it. He undid yellow cotton-padded jacket and moved dark ski goggles. When his shawl came off, his graying beard appeared.

"Storm is coming" he said, smiling.

R20

"What do you mean, you've lost a planet?" shreiked inspector Javid.

Mithad, chief of registry department simply shrugged impassively. It was a movements many would miss, considering his plump body and narros shoulders.

"How the hell could entire planet disappear?" inspector asked again.

Chief just tapped his nose with his pen and gave left nostril a gentle inside rub. Tip was coated with something yellowish, thick and gooey. Mithad observed it for a few moments then placed the pen on the desk.

"Well we couldn't displace just half of planet, so we lost the entire planet", he replied to the inspector, deadpan serious.

Javid went white, which on his coffee colored face looked as if he turned ash-gray. Then his cheeks gained some color as he slammed the desk.

"Well, you will have to find it, dig it out and return to the fold of League, or I will sue you on account of sabotage and negligence of the first degree", Javid threatened.

Chief just nodded. Sure, we'll look into it, he thought, we'll send a field agent and that's that, what is this dude ranting about?

"Mhm, sure, no worries. We will sort things out", he said to the inspector.
"For your sake I hope it will be as you said", Javid hissed and slammed the door on his way out.

R19

"Donkeys!" Jose was astonished, "So many donkeys at one place!"

Gray animals stood there in the large enclosure spread from end to end of the valley. Here and there, Jose was able to spot an armed guard, strutting their stuff haughtily before common laborers refilling the water for donkeys. Jose used a moment of quarell between sentinels and workers, to slip between the boards of the fence and rush for the hillside.

"There is nothing to steal here", he thought to himself then paused at the top of the ridge.

Though he didn't have the best view because of the tall schrubbery, there was no doubt that there was entire city hiding in the next valley. He could see red, blue and brown shipping containers arranged as sleeping quarters, as well as shops and warehouses. And motorbikes. Sneaking his way through the undergrowth, Jose reached the parking spot for the bikes and they were as numerous as the donkeys.

"Much... much better!" Jose was eagerly rubbing his palms.

He could already picture himself riding one of the fast mountain bikes, featuring nasty spiked tires. No doubt he will be the talk of the village, maybe he will sell the machine and then, Sarita will look at him with more respect... Jose was the master of roasting the rabbit that's still in the woods...

R18

"What the hell is this?" Misha squealed.

He hated his own voice. It wasn't manly, deep and coarse like Peter's, but somehow pubescent, though Misha was way over thirty. Once he gets excited, he would start to stutter, and when afraid his voice would go even higher than usually. Sometimes he would remember to talk slowly and try to speak from his gut, but it came across as pathetic, rather than manly.

"Stop it, already!" Nenad snapped back.

His voice was always explosive, loud like crack of the whip. He didn't talk too high or too low, but somehow inconspicuous. His voice will never end up on radio or tv, he wouldn't be invited to read the news or tell weather forecast. It was so average a voice that wasn't even possible to be mimicked because it was so unremarkable. Maybe a sound engineer could make it on their machines, while seeking for that average speech needed for a computer game to simulate rumor of the crowd. Nenad and his voice were, simply, someone from the crowd.

"Oh, shut up you over there, don't make me come at you" Leonard quipped.

Rickety, like his entire appearance, that was Leo's voice like. His boots were two size bigger, and almost dragging behidn him, so you would hear him before you saw him. Skinny limbs couldn't hold his uniform, so he looked like crotch with an overcoat. His dishiveled look was his forte. Many were fooled by his shabby outfit, taking him for a fool. And he was not a fool, more of a looney. Dangerously snappy, aggressive and always ready for picking fight.

"You will all get what's coming to you" whispered Crookey.

Mumbling so badly, no one could understand him, but they still tried to because he seemed like he's going to say something very important for all the mankind to  hear and adopt, so people leaned in struggling to decipher his rants. And they went on and on. Some people just mumble or speak to themselves, but Crookey held entire monologues to shame Castro's, all mumbled to himself. Some people thought he was simply chanting a prayer, as he would often make a sign of the cross absentimndedly with a well practiced precision acquired early in his childhood.

"Next!" nurse yelled.

Her voice was tight just like her impeccably ironed short skirt. Voice carried that kind of sharpness that comes from routine, not unlike a butcher who uses dull meat cleaver because he knows exactly how to wield it. Nurse's voice was well measured, piercing to the bone. Few of the people in the hallway jumped, not sure if the command was pertaining to them, but still striving to be the first to appear before her. She smelled of rose and jasmine, under the pungent odor of antiseptic, but it suited her perfectly. Just as perfect were her breasts, barely contained inside the stiff nurse uniform. They were hidden, but made themselves present in ripples of thin shirt that could be gleamed at, considering that she always left four top buttons undone...

R17

Morning dawned above the river. Forest mirrored in the murky water looked like a curse of dark evergreen covered with cloak of snow. Shagart was sitting on a rock feeling his butt literarily freezing. He wondered what will happen when his friends realize his ass is glued to the boulder. Would Bargh-uz crush the rock with his hammer? Or would Miargh let the flames flow from her fingertips to melt the ice? While he was pondering such deep thoughts, his eyes wandered to Saint Vincent, fortress squatting on the highest hill across the river. Stealthily, sneaking as goblin thief, his thoughts encroached upon the fort. Do we mine trenches and galleys or strike from the air with wyverns?

Bargh-uz was munchin on the last of his cold roast boar. He plucked at rare meat right off the bone, savouring the grease solidified at the bottom of the pot. Yisk, his goblin sidekick watched greedily at the plate that was exactly halfway between Bargh-uz and little green rogue. In the middle of the plate single doughnut covered with sugary syrup and reisins. Bargh-uz growled at Yisk from time to time, but it didn't help much to unglue goblin's gaze from the plate. With mighty belch faintly stinking of garlic and rosemary, Bargh-uz declared his breakfast finished.

Miargh was sitting in the tub filled with hot water. Saray didn't usually offer bath to the patrons, but orc-sorcerress was quite convincing. Truth be told, she had to make the water hot by her own. Still it didn't lessen the pleasure and joy at heat that was gathering across her belly and between her legs. Dipping her fingers in the water, she invoked a bit more of the magical power. Warmth started hugging her hips and played at small of her back. Miargh sighed, remembring that Shagart is out there in the snow, skulking around the riverbank. She told him that the fortress won't fall easily at all. That the tower above the city is not a lookout but wizard's home. Human wizards gave her the creeps. Old pervs, the lot. She remembered her first teacher Mirtius and his lecherous gaze, sticky fingers at her butt, crass attempts to brush against her ample bosom. She also recalled bubbling of blood on his chest when she smote him with well aimed Claw.

Sun was reaching the zenith.

R16

I returned to the village, my cart full of bent, dry planks, rusted metal rods and small coils of wire. There was a still intact can at the bottom of all the junk. Maybe it contained grease oil, and yet maybe there was a canned soup inside, it was not possible to tell from the smooth polished outside. I showed it to Baltazar and he laughed, sending me to unload the cart in the 'bank'. Thats how we called a ditch where we kept all common belongings.

"Aren't you afraid that some of these fools would just come and take whatever they fancy?" I asked the old man
"Of course we are afraid, but we can't keep all the stuff in our tents, and besides the fools are also afraid that community will shun them if they steal too much."

Naked man ran between the tents, flailing his appendages shouting about 'the joy of new day'.

"Is this all just a dream?" I asked Baltazar as we sipped our ration of water.
"Maybe, but it's not worth breaking your head over it. Even if it's a dream, it's not one you are going to wake from. This is the reality.
"But how did we get here?"
"I told you not to think too hard, let's reinforce the door"

I was suprised when I reached the gates, ten half naked people working in silence. Some were hauling material from the bank others were just constructing, nailing planks with rock hammers. Soundtrack to all ths work was mad squeealing of the insane or drunk. We didn't pay attention on it. We just worked hard as if impelled by instinct.

Like ants.