Author Archives: Terry

Zdravko knocked on the door that said ‘Principal.’ The rest of the doors were less direct and said things like ‘Compost’ or ‘Room 55.’ Everything was in code. Mrs Brenner was a middle-aged woman with tousled brown hair and dressed … Continue reading →

Fifty metres ahead and across the street, Rado finally saw the BMW i8, the same kind of green he’d seen on his phone. He crossed over ul. Solunska. “Hey Radi! You forgot to keep in touch!” Rado turned to see … Continue reading →

Rusim stopped halfway along the bridge crossing the Slatina. He was dressed in a white shirt, faded grey trousers and worn-out brown boots. The Slatina was a slut, he told himself. A bite on the arm with false teeth and … Continue reading →

Robert Gjoeb woke up on the couch, threw off the blanket and shuffled to the doorway in the dark. He flicked on the dining room light and looked at the time. Pen and paper in hand, he headed for the … Continue reading →

Zdravko woke up with the phone ringing. It was Rusim. Zdravko listened while eyeing up the darkened, daytime apartment. Curtains were still drawn, the bedroom door shut. Silence but for a vaguely ill sounding city. The cup of tea was … Continue reading →

Nadejda’s was the kind of beauty resistible only to those who refused to fight, kill or die for anything. How she ended up a prostitute was not truly comprehensible. She should have been living on the top floor. A made … Continue reading →

Every bit of ash has a life of its own. Gets brushed off. Flies along. Runs away. Disappears. Joins an army somewhere. Maybe Antonov knew where he was going. And none of those folk-dancing kids were in any way related, … Continue reading →

Zdravko leaned one arm over the rail to scan the dance floor below for Rusim. Rusim was never that hard to find. He danced so bad it was good, especially if he smoked a cigarette. Not everyone could get the … Continue reading →

Rusim needed a drink so they stopped into a local bar. The Moreni was built out of stone and varnished wood in the style of a chalet and stood next to a carpark and bus stop on the main road. … Continue reading →

Zdravko woke at the sound of the car horn blaring. He got to his feet and brushed himself off. “Over here,” he called, then turned to the tree he’d been leaning on with its sawed-off log for a seat. He … Continue reading →