half the world dies, the other half writes about them. "c'est la vie!" I guess, and we follow river Styx till we reach the center of the Earth. you and I, may die tomorrow too. so do not fret; dance! and when it's our time, we'll be painted on news, magazines, e-books, protests... our tragedy highlighted on paper stands. Photo: Adam Jones / Flickr #creativewriting

“Happy Halloween,” April cried out with enthusiasm as she rushed out of their new house and took two suitcases from the trunk of the car. Will rolled his eyes and got out of the car with a sigh. “This Halloween will never be happy,” he thought, “as long as my sister keeps on talking about mythical creatures and paranormal abilities as if they were real!” Will shouldered his backpack, grabbed a heavy box with his belongings and followed April into their new house. Why? Why did

Cultural Exchange in Bosnia and Herzegovina, March 2016, Part 2 Our merry band of writers-turned-diplomats was in for a short but heart-warming (quite literally – the difference in temperature between Sarajevo and Mostar was some ten degrees centigrade) bus ride before we’d finally arrived in the beautiful town that is Mostar. As soon as we stepped out of the station and into the sun, it felt like summer was upon us, even though it was mid-March and we had all carefully wrapp

Just like we tend to do at first I was ignoring you till the outburst Then I realized why there felt like home No-one Driven by mind of confusion My ego claimed desertion But I don’t think I won No-one By all means I came back Nonetheless it still ached Remaining alone No-one Second desertion made results I was happy at once You didn’t exist, you were truly No-one At the right time came the right boy Through summer mood, drinks, all that noise It was true love, you were gone

Although he’d just turned twelve last November, Barney Banks already counted among the world’s greatest experts in Paper Throwing. A few months ago, this fact alone would’ve been enough to make him feel ready for any challenge. But that had been before he first saw the room at the end of this corridor. The corridor was too dim and cold, too uniformly gray and far too empty for Barney’s liking. So empty, in fact, that the squeaks of his Nikes' seemed to boom down its entire le

Walking along the sidewalk, I wondered whether to go into the woods or not. She had said the magic forest was somewhere in the city park. She had explained to me that I would find it if I walked through the city park southward at nightfall. The problem was that I didn’t believe Melody – her name is Melody – because she had described this magic forest as ‘floating’ and that sounded strange even to me. Why even to me? Well, my name is Jake and I’m a sort of a wizard. I fought C

Drowning… Thrown out of the blue into the ocean Immersed in reverse motion Gasping for breath… … diverts me from bursting bubbles into hysterical laugh I know I’m in trouble But this merry-go-round Makes me merry instead Should I be mad? Sad? Rather be dead But I’m not Yet It’s not an option to catch the wave Or stretch time to the point of reaching the surface back again I’ll let these two sink in Positive thinking Now I’m plunging a bit slower Overwhelmed with layers of lou

Believe that everything is alright Believe that it was and will be It is not swell and magnificent cause magnified effect is that of a butterfly … just alright it’s your right Can you feel free to be free? Can I? Alright Come back to your senses But beware A thick barbwire fence defends the area from the aware Hence the mess, stress and fear when it disappears into thin air I’m getting some chills from last night Cold world, I guess That’s life Really? Photo: yeowatzup / Flic