BLOOD LUST

Luka and Dragan followed the Austrians into the cornfield and held their fire until the last second. There were twelve of them, exhausted, drawn-looking older men in grey uniforms staggering and stumbling under the weight of their packs, cursing and spluttering in some foreign tongue which Dragan had said was German but Luka did not...

Short Fiction – BLOOD LAND

The soldiers of the march battalion, deployed to a small village near the Russian border, had long warned one another – if at night you hear a girl’s voice, frail and slender, call out in German, innocently asking Wer da? from the darkness, then do your best not to reply. She may ask once and...