Story 1
-You know I said you to stop taking that.
Young man with curly brown hair and maroon eyes, his beard untidy and his shirt baggy and creased, slowly took a smoke of marijuana. The blanket had slipped off the bed and the pillows were on the floor. The light of white winter day enlightened the modern student's apartment. McDonald's paper bag was full of garbage – paper cups, packs of cigarettes, leftovers of pizza and Chinese food. The journalist on the TV screen was talking about snow which had been falling for days and the weather forecast on the screen of silver gray laptop was showing that it was about minus five degrees outside. Desktop background was showing smiling faces of girls in the discotheque, which held glasses of colorful cocktails in their hands. The latest edition of ''The best shop'' magazine laid on the coffee table, next to navy blue man's whist watch and emerald nail polish. A number of photo frames stood on the shelf by TV, filled with hugs and smiles of nice dressed people. Thick heavy dictionaries stood neatly packed and the plumage of the dream catcher swayed by air condition which blew hot, sweetish air. New Year bulbs trembled in harmonized rhythm.
-Are you satisfied now? – said the sleepy man extinguishing the rest in his hand. The answer was the brisk slamming of the door.
Light blue jeans were hanged in the closet and red sweater was on the back of the chair. The pen'd fallen out of the big patent black bag, as like as little USB device with a sparkling crystal key ring. The papers winged when the window was being opened.
Coldness filled the air outside. The snow was everywhere. But, it was warm in the new shopping mall. Popular music came out of the speakers and the dazed crowd sintered between the shelves full of expensive wardrobe. The black coquettish dress looked as if it was from 1930's, with all these pearls and fringes. It shone on the strong lights in shop with white walls. Or maybe the baggy pink jumper with a black bow is more beautiful? Classic black pumps were on the lowest shelf, together with red wedges and modern silver gray sandals. In the left, an azure pleated skirt and silk magenta shirt were on the mannequin in the window, and in the right stood massive biker boots.
The mobile phone rang with a melody of popular Rihanna's new song. It took a minute to be found at the bottom of the chockablock bag.
-Hello, Anastasia. I'm in the shopping mall, trying to find something to dress for New Year's Eve...Yes...Yes... I'm not nervous, I just had a fight with Dorian this morning... Well, when I finish shopping, I'm going for the manicures and then I'll be back home at about 6 p.m. OK. I'll call you. Bye.
After ended conversation, the nice, smiled cashier charged the yellow long lace dress, shimmering top and elegant black jacket.
The city was decorated with ornaments which blinked and winked in the early winter evening. Treetops were covered with golden candles and Santa Clause figures were on the Austro-Hungarian architecture type of buildings. Colorful advertisings on the walls invited people to welcome New Year in some of the most elite clubs and restaurants in Belgrade. The melodies of Christmas songs could be heard along the street that evening. A couple of children dressed as Santa Clause’s assistants ran across the crowded street.
Door on the number sixteen in Cara Dusan’s Street were cumbersome and dark. The doorway in the building was creepy, illuminated just with weak yellow bulb. Small, low, slender girl in her twenties opened the door. She smiled as always, dressed in fuchsia silk peignoir, with bright green scarf around her head, and her tufts of her light brown hair were tied in sloppy ponytail. Her lips were colored in pink and she had striking green eye shadow. Range of her bight white teeth showed her good mood. The little flat was cozy and decorated with works of contemporary arts.
Slender girl started to do her job carefully. She turned on music player and then started to file long nails.
-My dear, you look gorgeous as always. Where did you buy that wonderful red sweater?- young manicurist babbled.
-Oh, thank you, Susan. I bought it last year when Nate and I were in Prague.
-Oh, you’re so stylish. But, darling, you are a bit quiet today. Do you have some problem? – Susan asked worried.
-Nate and I had a fight this morning. I just cannot stand his drug addiction. He’s not going to stop using those things. I love him, but I’m tired of trying.
-Poor girl.- Susan said comfortingly,- Such are man. I know you fell head over heels in love with him. And I’m sure that he only has eyes for you. I believe you are true soulmates. You must try to understand him and to convince him to obey. You have a bumpy relationship, but you get on like a house on fire. Isn’t that enough for you to do your best?
Story 2
''Arabian Nights'' was warm, exotic cafe tucked in a little narrow street in the bohemian quarter. That part of the atrium building was made of red brick, overgrown in climber. The facade was rustic and the caption was written on the panel made of wood and it hanged above the door. The door had little window on itself, which consisted of stained glass. Light which outreached from the inside diffracted in numerous shades.
Attractive young man in white shirt entered the bar. The sweet smell of hookah filled his nostrils. The bar wasn't crowded. Handsome man in his forties smoked his cigarette on the bordeaux sofa and looked thoughtfully through the smoke. An old hairless man with dark tan sat on the pillows with his legs crossed and smoked the hookah. Palm branches swinged barely noticeable. Irregular shapes painted on the walls of the bar hid behind the scarlet curtain. Copper little cups were ful with black coffee and embers shone in the ashtray on the low coffee table. Big chandelier was hanged in the center of the room, but the light was weak and it carried from little candles. The floor was covered with Persian carpet. Fat waiter with long black mustache offered young man a seat on the big soft pillows covered with a canopy in the corner of the bar. The man sat and ordered a glass of whiskey with two ice cubes. The waiter soon returned with the order and one plate of dish.
-Arabian cuisine, Sir! Please, try. It's on the house.- he said kindly, smiling.
After about an hour bar began to be crowded. Only men came into and a woman couldn't be seen there. All men had black hair and chocolate brown skin, and most of them had mustache and bushy eyebrows. One of the oldest of them played an Arabian music instrument called tabla.
The rhythm that he produced was a dynamic, highly melodic and it simply forced the body to dance. Sough of Oriental languages mixed together overwhelmed the bar. Suddenly, the leisurely music stopped and the old man stopped to play his tabla. The fat waiter stood in the center of the bar and declared that the show may start. Sounds of loud music announced the catchy Arabian song and a girl with long black curls appeared behind the curtain made of pearls. Men could not see her face because she had a veil above it. They could only see the shade of her siluete through the curtain when she slowly started to move her hands to the rhythm of the susceptible music. Her fingers made the shapes of birds flying or the fishes swimming, harmonically and serenely. Her hips moved to the left and then to the right like a cobra coming out of the basket. She moved the curtain when the music reached its zenith and revealed her thinly dressed body to men. Her skin was dark and shinny and her feet bare. The red pearls and golden crystals on her bosom undulated and bounced. The darkness of her skin was disharmonized with little stain of irregular shape on her back. She had glistening jewel on her navel. Her turns and dance moves were vivacious, but sensual at the same time. She made circles and eights with her hips and made parts of her body vibrate. With her hands in the air, it seemed as calling somebody from the sky. Her arms looked like unfettered sea waves. The skirt was long, red, stratified and tremulous, with a big slit, so her legs were naked. A golden scarf with coins was tied on dancer's hips, so they clacked when she moved. With one brisk movement of the hand she removed the veil from her face. She revealed her big, juicy lips and snub, beautiful nose. Beauty spot on her left cheek made her face even more perfect. She had a lot of bracelets and big earrings and a tattoo of a bird flying with her wings widely spread. She swayed, shaked, jumped, swinged, waggled, jiggled and looked the men with her big olive green eyes. Men could not move their eyes from the dancer.
The music stopped. The dancer bowed and took her scarf from the floor. She disappeared behind the curtain. The young man blowed out the smoke.
Story 3
The bride stood next to the altar. She was dressed in fluffy white wedding dress. Her veil was long and limpid and her gloves made of white lace. Petite silver necklace was on her pale neck and big ring on her finger. She was smiling. Her bosom moved slowly and she breathed excitedly.
She nodded her head and said:
-Yes.
Applause pierced through the church.
Story 4
The sky opened. Stupendous rock fell on the ground. Than one more. And one more. The rock rain was destroying everything in the boulevard. People screamed, cried, ran. The chaos was horrifying. It was like a scene from those horror movies about the Doomsday. The wind was strong, so the trees flied like a birds in the sky. People could not see each other because the cloud of the dust and fire, and buildings were tearing down. A woman fell on the ground, hurt, with an injury on her left leg.
Suddenly, a large rock fell and Ivan lost his consciousness. World disappeared into the blackness.
Story 5
Small cozy kitchen was rife with delicious smells of the food which was cooking on the stove. Old Mrs. Kostadinovic stirred the food in pot hurriedly. The garlic on the plate was white, finely chopped. Pepper was next to it, and a bag full of beets. Mashed potatoes cooked in the pot. Glass of milk was in Mrs. Kostadinovic’s hand and a bottle of vinegar was opened on the shelf. Big, gray cat jumped on the table and toppled the dish with the spice.
-Oh, you are bad, bad kitty, Azrael! – Mrs. Kostadinovic said jokingly.
