Pisanije

Small reminder to my online novels, "Mima and life on planet Inferno", which you can read for only 3,60$ on Amazon Kindle (illustrations for my novel made by me): https://www.amazon.com/Mima-Planet-Inferno-Biljana-Malesevic-ebook/dp/B09PLQHQKB/ref=tmm_kin_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=&sr= and my second online novel on Inkitt, free of charge "The Vortex" (again, my illustration for this novel): https://www.inkitt.com/stories/horror/1008401 and if you prefer short content, there my short stories on Inkitt too: https://www.inkitt.com/BiljanaM

  Part 3: Getting out He was surprised but shrugged his shoulders. "People get used to everything." "You'd be surprised," he added. "Can I see the others you managed to wake up? Maybe I know someone." After the physiotherapy, I looked at the pages on the small computer board with faces and more faces of the awakened. Some people's faces were slightly blurred and had the words "deceased" across them. The whole search was frustrating and sad. The whole planet went to hell and mommy's and daddy's rich children got away with it and the rest of us are just experiments, who can explode at any moment like an old hand grenade. The first time I went outside after getting on my feet was a shock, and not just physically. Before that, I barely got rid of Darko, whom I mentioned earlier as a confused red-haired young man with a beard. Darko seemed to be a little to fond of me, he hanged around me saying the most incredible amounts of the weird...

Part 3: Stem cells Fast forward to the day when I could successfully roll around in a wheelchair, which wasn't even electric, but old-fashioned, with the wheels that I had to push with my hands. My legs were now functional, but not enough to walk on my own. They wouldn't let me out of my cell...ups sorry, I mean hospital room, except when they were driving me for tests, scans, endless needle poking and electrocutions. During those not-so-pleasant tests and treatments, I had the opportunity to take a look at my arms and legs, and even my torso, and it was clear that whatever they did, they managed to rejuvenate my body by at least twenty years. I wasn't optimistic about that because a dark-haired young man, Dr. Marianusic, told me that almost half of the stem cell treatments ended "very, very badly." I didn't want to ask for details. After all, what do I have to lose at my age? After an additional two hundred years of half-life in ice? I became nervous from all...

Part2: I am awake  I ask them to straighten me up, everything hurts from lying down and my eyes are constantly fixed on the not so interesting ceiling. My mind is in an incredible confusion and I have many questions. They carefully pick me up and place me in a wheelchair. This is my life now. I remember being 67 years old. An old woman completely paralyzed, in a wheelchair, who can only blink and squeak a little. Why did they wake me up? The view from the upright position is not much more interesting than the ceiling. Everything around me is white, and it immediately reminds me of a hospital. The smell of antiseptics, steel, alcohol, the whiteness of painted walls and the silvery shine of steel. Doesn't look comforting at all, ice was better. Around me is a group of people, young people, I would say, maybe in their thirties. There are four of them and they are all dressed in sterile white suits from head to toe. Two of them wear complex helmets, like the one I hallucinated that it ...

Part 1: After The End I don't remember the event of the disaster, I don't even remember certain details, segments. That entire short period has been erased from my memory. Only after the end of the world I remember a period of consciousness that I cannot explain, because I was as dead, just as everyone else on earth, frozen forever in a giant block of ice. I didn't panic, which might be understandable in the given situation, I calmly observed the frozen world around me, the glassy walls of the ice cave and the block of ice in which we were all caught like insects in amber. There was little light in there, only a few glimmers that refracted hundreds of times on the icy rocks and penetrated into the open eyes of those of us who met our ends awake and aware. I was freed from everything, feelings, pain, physical needs, even aging, I felt a peace that I had never felt before. The peace of someone who has absolutely nothing left to lose. All I had was the play of lights and shado...

 I wrote my novel "The Vortex" circa 2005-2006 so translating it to English requires next to name adapting also adapting it to be more up-to-date. Translation is going as fast as I can do it, so far Five chapters are uploaded and you can read it Free of Charge on this link: https://www.inkitt.com/BiljanaM Five people, three young men and two young women, accompanied by mysterious deformed man who apparently lives for hundreds of years, step into a woods with no exit. From the outside, on the maps, the woods are small area, but once you get in, there is no end in sight. Strange things start to happen, and strange blood thirsty creatures are appearing in the woods, threatening to kill and dismember the group. Even things that appear harmless can kill you in this place. It's never safe. Cars are starting to lose gas, people are starting to get tired and apathetic, will they ever get out? Update: Another link to read my novel: https://www.royalroad.com/fiction/146745/the-vort...

Worm-infested cherries part 1. By Biljana Malesevic Once when I was a child, I got a bag of ripe, sweet cherries. I immediately started to eat them, without so much of bothering to wash them. I devoured each one and leisurely spat pits as I ate. I ate almost half a kilo until I opened one by hands, just out of boredom, because I was already somewhat satisfied. Then I discovered that each single sweet fruit had a small whitish worm inside. Although I have previously eaten dozens of cherries, I suddenly lost a desire to eat even one more. I live in Slatina, distant and lone village, for more than twelve years, but I am still not fully accustomed to the rural way of life. Switching from the city child used to late nights out, supermarkets and shopping malls, constant screaming of city noise and office work, to a peaceful life in a modest farmhouse can take years, probably decades. I haven’t still managed to curb urban child in me. Still, sometimes I get the urge to spruce up f...