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Скопје 2117

2117 година. После много гео-политички превирања, седам ревизие на Букурешки Договор и сто читања на тестамент на Александара, Месечина бива општина у Скопје. Фаќаш бус до Месец, пошто чуја си легенде за ракију у нулту гравитацију, а и некои ефтини фармерке ако залетив нема да е лошо. Искрцуеш се на станицу, и пречекуе те преубава реа на неадекватан огрев. Не си ни сигуран одкуде им дрва, или како горив без кислород, ама не е ни битно. Ракија е битна. Искачаш од станицу, директно на Булевар ВМРО. Трештив неонски рекламе на свите стране, претежно рекламе за холодеци и дољан веш. Упадати у очи едн билборд посебно, слика од плавушу сас груди кои ваљда ву служив како сидро овдека, завртена сас уредно замаскиран г’з: “Герасимка Станојевич го покажа своето вонземско газе! Погледнете како (18+)” Понатамо гледаш рекламу за нов музеј на “Македонски жртви на НАСА”, ама такви си видеја милион дома. Чекаш да пројдеш улицу. Нема авта, ама семафор те тера да чекаш десет минута за свак случај, Чекање
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Скопје 2123

 2123 е, Општина Луна, Скопје, Република Транспланетарна Македонија. Будиш се. Субота, не мора да идеш на работу. Не мора да идеш нигде. Стануеш од кревет, трзаш завесу. Надвор, нормално, мрак, ама гледаш како некои тринаесе пластични кесе и три лименке Скопско си чилав пред прозор. Тринаесе, лош број маме му. Правиш си кафе, седнуеш си пред ТВ. По грешку место Јутуб пушташ кабловску, која од необјасниви причине још е вржана сас интернет. И фиксан, нормално. На Твоја ТВ иде некоја дебата за тој како не е фер Казахстан што не блокира за улаз у ЕУ ради тој што ЈСП га има узурпирано Бајконур за летови до Месец. Гледаш малце, и пцуеш сви Казахстанци, и к’лнеш се дека никад нема да ступнеш тамо. Златна Грчка. Мењаш канал. Вести. Некој земјоделац кажуе како му поскупело просо ради агресију на Марс врз Церес. Не ти има много смислу тој, и зимаш телефон да видиш какву врску има едно сас друго. Наваѓаш некој сајт на кој одма му га забрављаш име, наслов на статију “ДО КОГА ВАКА?? ЕВЕ КАКО ВОЈНАТ
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Krystabald and the Great Old One

"Engage evasive maneuvers alpha!" He shouted at the AI that he had sold to the CyberSlavers on Gibson Alpha some time ago. “Fuck!” He exclaimed again, as he realised that nothing happened, and that he had to maneuver the Kreutz S-9000 all by himself. He checked the screen to see the three red dots that were following him had dashes going out of them and moving towards him. They were shooting at him, and the missiles hit the Kreutz at the same time that that realization hit him. The shields held for now, but three Quaradian raptors were far more than his race cruiser could take. He tried turning on the theoretical drive, but the damn spike-heads had theory-disruptors. He would have to evade them. He took several more hits before finally managing to put the standard drive into override, and started evading the damn missiles. He was still faster, but his shields were now at 55%. A couple of hits more, and he will be fine dust. He couldn’t even remember what he had done t
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The missing inspiration

John was a novelist. At least, that’s what he liked telling himself. He had written a book once, almost three years ago. A story set on Mars, with large conspiracies, war, androids, implied aliens. It had it all, and it was surprisingly successful. And people would add him on social media, congratulating, asking questions ranging from specifics about the Mars’s domes and monorails, to whether the main hero is really straight, or he was a bit too friendly with the local shopkeeper. And he liked answering the questions. He liked talking about what he called “his baby”. He liked it almost as much as the girls that would get with him just so they can post an Instagram story with a famous author. But three years is a long time, and people start forgetting. One can repost the same quotes only so many times, and John was already seeing his fan base drift away. He was even losing some followers. And now here he was, struggling with writer’s block. He had started multiple times on his s
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Just a simple mail delivery

As he fell, he was waiting to hear the sound of crunching bone, and maybe to feel the last pain in his life. His thoughts jumped to thinking how he should really try to turn around and maybe his arms would break the fall enough to…. Stupid idea. From the height he was falling, his body will turn to mush on impact. So he just closed his eyes and anticipated that crunch, maybe even some sloshing? And time slowed down, he felt almost like floating, and then… And then he opened his eyes, and he was in his bed, bathing in his sweat. He was dreaming something, just he no longer remembered what. The midday July sun was piercing through the window and was slowly cooking him. “Fuck, midday already?” he muttered to himself as he stumbled out of bed, trying to unstick himself from the drenched sheets. “Fuck summer.” The ice cold shower he prepared for himself did just enough to bring some semblance of good mood into him, that quickly evaporated as soon as he reentered his room. He really
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The mother and the witch

This must be it, she thought, as they approached the cabin, the little boy clinging to her arm. The cabin was surrounded by a white-fenced yard, itself enclosed with the same scarlet-leafed trees that made Rotwald what it is. Except these were adorned by flowers that gradually shifted in glowing colors, giving a surreal illumination to the whole garden. It was a beautiful sight, nothing like the old man had described. Maybe the witch wasn’t as bad also? Surely an evil being cannot create something this beautiful. While she was lost in admiration of the garden, she felt the boy’s grip tightening around her arm, hiding his little body behind her leg. And then she felt something wet on her thigh. The warmth and smell that came with it told her that the boy had just pissed himself. She was ready to admonish him when she noticed the creature in front of her. It looked like a tall slim human covered in feathers, large head impossibly balanced on a bird-like neck. It’s beak was open, sh
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A pizza was all I wanted

You now that feeling, the one that comes to you while you are sprawled in front of your TV in your underwear, covered in all kinds of crumbs from snacks with dubious nutritional value, the one feeling that tells you that everything is gonna change soon? Well, I think I had that exact feeling on that fateful day. There I was, content that the boring overdrawn week at work is finally winding down to three days of me catching up with my shows and trying not to die from being too lazy to breathe. And in that moment of bliss, I get the wild idea of ordering a pizza. Right now surely you are thinking: “Wow, this guy thinks ordering a pizza as an adventure, this story is surely going to be riveting!”. But before you drop this book, or whatever you are holding right now, and go do something better, I’m asking you to hear my story, for it gets better. So, pizza time! I grab my phone, lying there conveniently at arms reach, and order up a Capricciosa from my favourite place. “Gosh, even hi
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