So....some of my friends here already know the story, but it was so long since I told it last, that I`m gonna tell it again.
How I met Stephen King.
There was a civil war going on in my country, the former Yugoslavia. Yugoslavia was made of six republics, and two independent republics...
All in all, we all thought we were Yugoslavs. And felt like it, too. Most of us.
But then, yadda, yadda, yadda...Google it up, if you wish, I can`t talk about specifics anymore ...a cicvil war broke out
So....for day we, the Serbs were bombing this muslim city with all we had, cause they had over a hundred of our Serbs captured, they wouldn`t let them go. Instead, they killed one by one, man, woman and child and sent their heads out to us on a donkey, so we can see their dead.
No, you are not reading Games of Thrones or some other ****.
We bombed harder. And harder
And some day, they surrendered.
I have no clear memory in my mind how that happened..I just know there was a cease fire, people were leaving the city, we let them.
I know I was hungry. Like really ****ing hungry, close to dying.
So I went into the city.
I stepped over dead bodies, over blood, over brains spilled all over the street.
Oh yeah! I was 19 then. 19.
When I should have been in a bar searching for some p***y to get laid...but no, here I was cruising Death.
So...I got to the city, walked around...and walked into a house...
Any house, really, what difference did it make? Nobody was there any more...or so I thought.
There was.
A dead body of a maybe 13-4 year old girl, half her head missing...
I looked around, tying to find the kitchen...but I couldn`t move.
On the nightstand was a book. I don`t know why I did it, I was hungrier than a wold, but yet I wanted to see what that book was.
It said " Stiven King - Uporište" - that`s Stephen King/ \\-The Stand, for you.
I don`t know why I picked it up either, there was blood on it...but I put in my backpack. Then I looked at the kid again. I started crying so hard like I never cried before...and left the house, no food taken.
Just a haze.
Several weeks after that, the enemies were bombing us so hard that we couldn`t leave our bunker for days.
We **** and pissed in our pants, eat grass....died. Many of us.
I found that book in my backpack and in the middle of dying started reading it. Some author I didn`t know.....
Over 300 hundred and fifty of us died during those days....I was the one who didin`t move, cause I was reading about Death.
I was reading The Stand.
And here I am today...I died once, after that, a grenade took my life away for 4 minutes...but I came back, cause I died already so many times before that....that all what was left was - to take The Stand.
That`s how I, the Constant Reader from now Canada, then Bosnia, Croatia and Serbia....know Stephen King.
I`m proud I do.
How I met Stephen King.
There was a civil war going on in my country, the former Yugoslavia. Yugoslavia was made of six republics, and two independent republics...
All in all, we all thought we were Yugoslavs. And felt like it, too. Most of us.
But then, yadda, yadda, yadda...Google it up, if you wish, I can`t talk about specifics anymore ...a cicvil war broke out
So....for day we, the Serbs were bombing this muslim city with all we had, cause they had over a hundred of our Serbs captured, they wouldn`t let them go. Instead, they killed one by one, man, woman and child and sent their heads out to us on a donkey, so we can see their dead.
No, you are not reading Games of Thrones or some other ****.
We bombed harder. And harder
And some day, they surrendered.
I have no clear memory in my mind how that happened..I just know there was a cease fire, people were leaving the city, we let them.
I know I was hungry. Like really ****ing hungry, close to dying.
So I went into the city.
I stepped over dead bodies, over blood, over brains spilled all over the street.
Oh yeah! I was 19 then. 19.
When I should have been in a bar searching for some p***y to get laid...but no, here I was cruising Death.
So...I got to the city, walked around...and walked into a house...
Any house, really, what difference did it make? Nobody was there any more...or so I thought.
There was.
A dead body of a maybe 13-4 year old girl, half her head missing...
I looked around, tying to find the kitchen...but I couldn`t move.
On the nightstand was a book. I don`t know why I did it, I was hungrier than a wold, but yet I wanted to see what that book was.
It said " Stiven King - Uporište" - that`s Stephen King/ \\-The Stand, for you.
I don`t know why I picked it up either, there was blood on it...but I put in my backpack. Then I looked at the kid again. I started crying so hard like I never cried before...and left the house, no food taken.
Just a haze.
Several weeks after that, the enemies were bombing us so hard that we couldn`t leave our bunker for days.
We **** and pissed in our pants, eat grass....died. Many of us.
I found that book in my backpack and in the middle of dying started reading it. Some author I didn`t know.....
Over 300 hundred and fifty of us died during those days....I was the one who didin`t move, cause I was reading about Death.
I was reading The Stand.
And here I am today...I died once, after that, a grenade took my life away for 4 minutes...but I came back, cause I died already so many times before that....that all what was left was - to take The Stand.
That`s how I, the Constant Reader from now Canada, then Bosnia, Croatia and Serbia....know Stephen King.
I`m proud I do.
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