Ćelentano’s Bestiary

By Zoran Malkoč
Translated by Tomislav Kuzmanović

Back then I was still friends with Ćelentano. He wasn’t sending his boys after me. Nor was he threatening me. But there’s no doubt that even then he was completely crazy.


By Ksenija Kušec
Translated by Ira Martinović

Even as I’m climbing up the empty staircase, I just know it: I’m too late. The bankers have stripped my grandma’s place already. The front door has a hole in it where the lock should be, the door is half open. I guess they don’t care if someone just walks in and tries to steal something; everything worth stealing is gone already, all theirs now.

The Desk

By Jelena Zlatar
Translated by Dobrila Vignjević

After his father’s death Bruno finally moved in with me. He was bringing in his things slowly and cautiously for days on end, placing them in the corner of the room that he had spontaneously made his own. Soon the corner became his little universe although there was only a desk with a computer on it, crammed with papers, pens, notebooks, lighters, and rolling tobacco.