Robert Stjepanovic

“The Eclipse ” by Robert Stjepanovic

“I can’t sleep.” Courtney lies awake, resting in her modest house and modest life. A perfectly normal state of existence, no flash in the pan for her. She’d always been set up for success, but it couldn’t taste more bland. That hunger always returns in the darkest hour, the ghosts of her gifts hovering around her bed, in black clothes with grim faces, looking down at her as if she were being slowly lowered into a coffin....

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“Marching Day” by Robert Stjepanovic

“So, young blood, you decided to join the service? I can see you’re as bright eyed as a flower taking root. When have you picked up your first gun, and don’t use the typical shit of - it was during my first round on the firing grounds. It’s quite easy to take the voices out of your head when shooting an inanimate object.” Seth Andrews, the toughest, qualified S.O.B to ever take the field.  "I have to see ...

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“Salvation through Hades” by Robert Stjepanovic

It is the 25th of May. He had been lounging around for a while, wanting to make a sandwich. Ham and cheese, no tomato, no sauce. He looks back over his shoulder, to the lounge room with books and newspapers strewn everywhere. There is only one person who could make that kind of mess, sitting off opposite the television like some great jaguar is his apprentice, Rose Parker. The atmosphere of this place h...

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“Freedom from the Grind” by Robert Stjepanovic

Submitted to Contest #166

I want to quit; I just want out; I want to quit! I whisper it softly to myself, over and over. I want out, I want out. It was just an hour into my shift. I was a fellow soldier behind the monitor, feeling the sting of the customers as they sent their bombs over into our narrow trench. Bags and prizes were everywhere, Winnie the Pooh dolls rolling around in the dust, candy being mixed into a grisly, sugary r...

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“The mist” by Robert Stjepanovic

Here I am, with my wife, a dove of my youth. We had found happiness at one point in our lives, but it was lost like our sense of direction, into this mist. It had been a suggestion made by my relatives, what better way to mend bridges then by going on a very special holiday? So, it had begun, walking through a landscape woven of stone and mortar, with the breeze from the coast like a shower of snowflakes drifting over my shoulders.  Her voice shook me from the cold, sharp and fierce, “Where are we going, Samuel?”...

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“A memory of bliss ” by Robert Stjepanovic

Submitted to Contest #165

Sitting across from the benchtop, I can see my friend, her energy reminding me of fonder years. I can see her family photo hovering over her head like a halo, a picture by the fence. With her spouse, they had long, flowing manes woven of gold, a handsome pair, young and free without a care in the world. Memories of sunshine and delight that felt as real then as it does now. It was heavenly, was being the very spe...

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