Pratiwi Juliani

THE OLD MAN AND THE CAT There’s a square on the edge of a busy town. People go there in the late afternoon to sit and relax, to buy...
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Dušan Mitana

There is no better servant than one who serves out of conviction. Only he who is burning himself can set others on fire. Juraj was burning...

Richard Pupala

There was a time, long, long ago now, when Michal used to be scared of him. Once he was startled awake in the middle of a hot summer’s night, to find his little brother sitting on his bed, motionless, a dark silhouette.

Zoran Feric

After midnight he found himself in an all-night bar, one of the worst shitholes in the city. A place where all the whores of the Warsaw Pact congregated. Here you could find everything: from Russian soldiers who sold amphetamines to child pornography.

Anna Bolava

I am also a perfectly transparent and easily read being, in the eyes of everyone, yet unnoticed, an exclamation mark in the middle of a vast plane, a smudge on the horizon, swinging from east to west and back again.

Adam Bodor

Outside, too, the world is sort of dark blue, the air is dark blue, swirling round the oleanders and the yellowing leaves of the plum trees. Little puddles of dark blue everywhere...

Central European Short Story Issue

We are bringing you a selection of short stories and short story collection reviews from Central European writers.

Dusan Sarotar

At this hour, in late March, in the year 1945, all that could be heard from the cellar bars and illicit taprooms was an incomprehensible mix of half-drunken tongues struggling to keep up with the tuneless wail of violins and cracked drums.

Siegfried Mortkowitz

But I didn’t want to give it to them, I didn’t want to do it for them, for their Holocaust. I wanted the polar opposite of the Holocaust, the antidote to blood and ashes, loss and suffering: love and pleasure. I wanted to live my life, not theirs.

Dorota Maslowska

Days that she’d taken for lost, days when she’d felt like air that was slightly thicker and English-speaking, it must have been then that someone had been watching her the whole time, following her, dazzled by her existence, going crazy over her and . . .

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