INSPIRE & AMAZE 06/2016 Issue 4

Student’s Journal of the Institute of British and American Studies

Advisory board: doc. PhDr. Milan Ferenčík, PhD., prof. PhDr. Jaroslav Kušnír, PhD., James Sutherland-Smith M.A., doc. Zuzana Straková, PhD., doc. PaedDr. Alena Kačmárová, PhD., doc. Mgr. Sandra Zákutná, PhD.

Chief editors: Mgr. Maroš Buday, Mgr. Gabriela Gumanová, Mgr. Jana Ščigulinská, Mgr. Stanislav Kužila

Graphic design: Mgr. Jana Ščigulinská

Composition: Mgr. Maroš Buday

Cover layout: Mgr. Jana Ščigulinská

Cover photo: Lenka Pellová

Back cover photo : Lenka Pellová

Linguistic advisor for texts in English language: Mgr. Maroš Buday

The correctness of submitted texts in Slovak language is the responsibility of the authors

Publisher:

Prešovská univerzita v Prešove

17. novembra 15

08001 Prešov

Address of the editor’s office:

Inštitút anglistiky a amerikanistiky

Filozofická fakulta PU v Prešove

17. novembra 1

Slovenská republika

Contact: [email protected]

Articles published in the journal INSPIRE & AMAZE cannot be published, copied or otherwise circulated without the editors’ knowledge.

This journal is unmarketable. This journal is issued twice a year.

The editors of this journal accept submissions in English and Slovak language. The articles should not exceed the total of 5 journal pages. The submissions are evaluated and edited by one of the members of the journal’s advisory board.

Table of Contents

Foreword ...... 4

Riddle ...... 5

Interview with Associate Professor Milan Ferenčík ...... 6

Students outside of the class room: PR with a Sword in One’s Hand ...... 9

Poets’ Corner ...... 10

The Chat by Matej Mika ...... 11

Creeping Death. Mist of life. Skulking void inside (Mist of life pt. 2) ...... 12

Students’ Creative Works ...... 13

[UNTITLED] by Tomáš Miháľ ...... 14

Holy Water by Ondrej Radačovský ...... 21

Lord of the Drinks ...... 24

The Watchers by Dr. Evil ...... 30

Hunger John Travels from Paper Town ...... 34

Albert by Júlia Drozdová ...... 38

Your Life after IAA ...... 46

Lukáš Varga ...... 47

Michaela Kiralova ...... 48

Fear is a useful thing; for some it is the sole cause they are alive, while for others, it is the only thing standing in the way of their success. As there is a difference between fight and flight there are differences in what FEAR can stand for. For those that depend on fear for survival, it usually means Forget Everything And Run; but for others, it stands for Face Everything And Rise. Both valid, both useful, and both nothing to be ashamed of. I personally dread finishing everything that I produce because I believe it is never good enough, but such is the nature of fear. We can either run away, change our course, and stay clear, or face this ever-present monster; however, it is often easier said than done. From an early age, I was taught not to give into fear because even if I were to fail in my endeavours, it would just mean that next time, my chances of success would be greater. I am glad to see that member of our Institute can rise to the occasion and provide a forum for not just education, but also the development of creativity because you never know which spark can light a fire; the teachers and the students alike, are full of sparks. It gives me great joy to see these ideas, works, and achievements shared, for they are inspiring and amazing.

Thank you for your contribution, may they spark the flame of creativity in others. Stanislav Kužila

Be the first one to submit the correct answers and get your special prize!!!

Due date: 31st October, 2016 Submission: In person, to room 245

RIDDLE T here are 5 ships in the space dock.

1. The Enterprise leaves at six and carries crystals.

2. The ship in the middle has a black hull.

3. The Endeavour leaves at nine.

4. The Améthyste with a blue hull is to the left of a ship that carries crystals.

5. To the right of the ship carrying fuel is a ship going to Proxima Centauri.

6. The Phoenix is heading for Camelot.

7. Next to the ship carrying water is a ship with a green hull.

8. A ship going to Luna leaves at five.

9. The Defiant leaves at seven and is to the right of the ship going to Proxima Centauri.

10. The ship with a red hull goes to Vulcan.

11. Next to the ship leaving at seven is a ship with a white hull.

12. The ship on the border carries plasma.

13. The ship with a black hull leaves at eight.

14. The ship carrying plasma is anchored next to the ship carrying water.

15. The ship to Vulcan leaves at six.

Which ship goes to Terra Nova? Which ship carries silver?

“… as students we heroically rebelled against their world …”

Milan Ferenčík, Associate Professor and Headmaster of IAA

Dear readers, on behalf of you all we’ve decided to interview the headmaster of our institute. In this short talk you will learn more about Associate Professor Milan Ferenčík’s student life, the biggest challenges he had to face at our university, his life as an academic and much more. SPOILER ALERT: you will also learn what an ideal student should be like in his view. Enjoy your reading. Associate Professor Milan Ferenčík has been the head of our Institute since 2012, yet getting to this position required a lot of work and experience. Having graduated from UPJŠ in Košice, Milan Ferenčík worked as a teacher at primary school and several secondary schools before he applied for a PhD programme. Ever since being awarded a PhD degree, he worked at UNIPO. In addition to his studies at UPJŠ and UNIPO, he has been awarded M.A. at Slippery Rock University in the USA and underwent several short-term study stays at universities in the USA, Great Britain, Belgium and Switzerland.

IAA: Could you possibly describe the kind of student you used to be? After quite a few years since I was a university student, I can say now I don´t see myself as a particularly talented student. What I did not lack though was a sense of responsibility and a great motivation. Judged only by my grades I was a ´dvojkár´ (B-grader) in ´gymnázium´, which helped me to go through the education system without too much of a strain and which more or less secured my studies at the university. My great advantage then was also the fact that I read a lot, effortlessly and without having to be pressed on too much, I even read all the items from the ´compulsory reading´ list (before that, as a schoolboy, I even managed to read the entire library in my grandmother´s village - two shelves for young boy readers in a large old cabinet, to be fair). What I became attracted to in my late teen years were foreign languages: although Russian was compulsory then, I found it a window to a new world. In ´gymnázium´ I immediately fell for English (or was it our English teacher?), and later on, out of curiosity, I self-learned the basics of German and French. It is only now that I can put in words what was about them that I ´liked´ - they gave me other possible ways of thinking about the world, a chance to create additional layers of my identity, and also a certain power over people who couldn´t speak them. I must admit that foreign languages, especially English which I later decided to study as an academic subject, were also an escape for me from other subjects which I didn´t quite like, not because of the subjects themselves but because of the way they were presented, and, to be true, sometimes also because of their teachers (or the combination of both). Finding myself now on the teacher´s side of the classroom I can understand that it is impossible to present the fascinating areas of human knowledge separated into numerous discrete fields, subjects and courses in a way that would be, if not attractive, at least not repulsive to each and every student.

Associate Professor Milan Ferenčín at the Student’s Conference of 2016 (UNIPO, IAA) IAA: What didn’t you like while studying at the university? As probably the majority of young people, I didn´t quite like the hypocrisy of the adults´ world, their conformism with the state of affairs and their satisfaction with their own lives (as students we heroically rebelled against their world during the week, but on weekends we returned to our mums to have our underwear washed and our backpacks stuffed with domestic produce that would last us until at least the following Wednesday). Being myself an adult and a parent now, I can imagine today´s young people may feel much the same, although quite a lot has changed since the early 1980s when I was a student here in Prešov. What I really resented then was anything that was mandatory and which was supposed to be accepted without thinking. Such as compulsory physical

education classes during winter mornings shortly before sunrise which were held in a semi-lit inflatable gym off the campus. I couldn´t stand dumplings soaked in sauce served in the students´ canteen. Why there were separate dormitories for boys and girls, and the alert elderly ladies standing on the guard, was beyond my comprehension. And I cannot think fondly of some self- centred teachers who took themselves too seriously. Most of them were, however, really very nice people and specialists in their fields who largely determined where I am professionally now. IAA: What was the biggest challenge for you as a student at university? The biggest challenge was to meet the academic expectations in different fields of study, which included the development of rigorous and disciplined thinking, acquiring the metalanguage of the subjects which represented different areas of my academic specialisation. For example, thinking and talking about such a natural thing as the language that you breathe was quite a challenge. But as the time passed, I learned that, most importantly, you need to find out what the expectations of different teachers are and how to meet them. I guess this could be a strategy for students´ academic well-being even today.

IAA: When did you realize that you wanted to be an academic in the field of linguistics? Have you ever considered any other field? When I think of it now, I never knew what I exactly wanted to be, although I had a much clearer idea what I did not want to be. So I don´t think there was any moment in my life when I suddenly realised I wanted to be an academic - all I knew more or less clearly was that I wanted to do something around the English language. Thinking about it now, it looks like I´ve been made an academic by the educational system a part of which I found myself to be one day, given the options available after I graduated from the university in the mid-1980s. But I could have as well become an academic in biology or physics, since the principles of thinking and doing science in linguistics are essentially the same as in any other sciences. The problem is that my English teachers were probably more appealing to me than biology or physics combined …

IAA: While working at IAA, you must have visited many foreign countries. What was the most interesting country / city / town / place you have visited thanks to being a part of our institute and why was it the most interesting place for you? Thanks to what I do for living and where I am now I have been fortunate to visit quite a few places, maybe not too many, far away or extraordinary, but definitely all enriching both professionally and personally. Each of them is memorable in its own way. I´ve always been looking forward particularly to the time spent on travelling to various academic destinations. It may sound odd but I must admit that, whenever possible, I prefer taking trains to get to places, since trains give me a feeling of being a traveller, and also a little bit of a discoverer. I keep a memory of each place I have been to and which I can recall as a snapshot of that place, so let me throw in some random memories of the places: strolling around a long-time abandoned fortification at the outskirts of Antwerp; travelling to meet an English professor in his home in the heart of Swiss countryside; climbing up a steep cliff peaking above Riva del Garda and getting an unforgettable view of the valley of Lago di Garda; Trying to find my way in snow clad birch woods in northern Finland; mowing a lawn in a Philadelphia´s backyard with a line of coloured faces watching me inquisitively; hovering above the hellish waters of Niagara Falls in a shaky two- place helicopter; falling off the motor boat into the cold waters of the Delaware river; being stopped by the police and asked about the reason of my walking on a roadside in New Jersey; watching the sun rise above the Atlantic ocean; sipping my early morning coffee, nibbling at a croissant and watching Paris wake up; taking a TGV ride along the coast of the Mediterranean to Marseille … the list could continue onwards for many more lines. Most of these memories were also made possible only because of my inclination towards walking and biking and also because wherever I am I try to stay outdoors as much as possible while taking long strolls and absorbing the place with all my senses.

Associate Professor Milan Ferenčík, Dean of Faculty of Arts Associate Professor Vasil Gluchman, Vice-dean associate Professor Ivana Cimermanová and our special guest the Chargé d’Affaires from the US Embassy.

IAA: Could you describe to our readers your idea of an “ideal” student? To me, an “ideal” student is one who knows his/her strong and weak points and has a realistic opinion of their own capabilities. An “ideal” student makes use of the opportunities that the years spent at a university offer him/her in order to grow and mature, both as a student of the given specialization and as a private person. I find it sad when some students hear themselves saying that the school gave them ´nothing´. I know there is a lot of exaggeration in statements like this, but even if this is even remotely the case, it is to a decisive degree a student´s own failure. I believe an “ideal” student asks for things rather than waits for them to be given. My impression is that students do not demand much from their teachers, and from themselves too, and so they are given ´little´. Next, an “ideal” student is ready to be taken by surprise, to be amazed by their own private discoveries on the path of learning during the time spent at the university which are probably the best years of their lives. I also think that an “ideal” student should put a little bit greater trust to their teachers, who know both the path but also the destination on the journey of learning, simply because they have been there a number of times with other students. And finally, an “ideal” student respects his/her own work because of the effort they invest into it (I realize now words like this sound more like ones from a preacher than from teacher).

IAA: If you didn’t become a university teacher and an academic, what profession would you choose? We tend to think that we are in control of our lives and that we choose what we do for life. I think this is only partly so, as most of the time somebody else decides for us, and who we become may well be largely a matter of chance. There are quite a few professions I can easily imagine myself doing, perhaps not incidentally all of them involve a mixture of physical and mental work (and of time available for drinking coffee): a librarian, a mountain guide, a traveller, a photographer. All of these are probably too late for me to take up, yet I still have not entirely given up the idea of starting a new life as a gardener (please let me know when you inherit a mansion with a historical park, my fluency in English may be of some use).

Associate Professor Milan Ferenčík after being awarded an Oscar in the category of “The Best Code-Switcher” at Angloparty (2015).

IAA: What advice would you give to those willing to become academics? First of all, try to find a sense in what you are doing for yourself and for others as well; in academia this is not always easy since academics especially in the area of humanities are not engaged in solving ´practical´ problems with an immediate impact on the world. Next, try to balance off your personal and professional life, and do so without trying hard to draw a strict dividing line between them – living a totally separate professional and private life is an illusion (whenever they meet socially, most of the time academics talk about what they do at work anyway). Finally, maybe a dose of ´healthy skepticism´ towards your academic work would help you not to take it too seriously – one thing is for certain, there will always be newer theories and more books to be read. And after all, there are plenty of nice things about life that are worth living for – it all depends on the liver, as was once remarked by a classic.

assigned at least three lives, plus bonus lives for the visual aspect of his armour Students outside of the and weapon. With one regulation hit, one class room: life was subtracted. After being killed the deceased had to move to an assigned Public Relations with a base and wait for all of the fraction members to respawn in order to fight Sword in One’s Hand again. The fractions were color-coded as: Red - the soldiers of Margaard, who as the previous winners hosted the competition. Blue – the soldiers of Nymer. Green – the soldiers of Larida were mostly comprised of members of KHSS, fully armed with shields and one-handed swords. Under the leadership of Commander Andrej Jurč (the founder of KHSS) the KHSS fought in four disciplines - the battle of generals, capture the flag, trolley pursuit, and circle

On Saturday, 7th of May 2016, KHSS (Club of Historical and Scenical Fencing) under the Prešov University’s Faculty of Arts, achieved victory in their first Live Action Role Play (LARP) competition. The LARP was organized by the LARP Club of Košice (LKK) in the woods of Furča, near Košice. The competition called The Battle of Lazarus´s Eye, was comprised of thirty defence. Larinda with a KHSS core fought combatants clad and armed like medieval as a squad in open fights, ambushes, soldiers and divided into three fractions - pursuits, and defence, but also in “one on each numbering just 10 men, with their one” duels. choice of weapons limited to: Two one- “Thanks to our precision tactics, diplomacy handed swords; one two-handed sword; skills, high moral, fighting spirits, and one-handed sword and shield; bow; or almost impassable shield wall we could hold the front long enough to earn good points – so we won the battle in final.”

It´s a fantastic adventure to feel the magic of history under the shades of the trees. You can enjoy the feeling of the battle in open mass fights between medieval armies and relax during breaks to clean your head in the beautiful countryside out of the real world and modernity. spear. Each weapon had to be checked Written by Tomáš Novysedlák & Stanisalv Kužila before the event due of safety. Each weapon was made of wood and covered with something soft – so you still can feel hits, but no significant harm is caused. Each and every player was

The Chat

by

Matej Mika, 2AjDeM My heart was trying to escape. Okay. was my only word. Her shadow an infernal shape and then unexpectedly it blurred. It wasn´t day,

It wasn´t night. I tell you it is hard to fight It was the time when these two fight. when the fight is easy or too hard. In the darkness, in the light, In my case it was once tight, One was the winner. now I don´t even need to guard. The other? Died.

You´re the winner, I would say. I was sitting at the station Heh, the battle hasn´t ended. waiting for a train to come I am sure it will one day. enthralled by the observation I don´t think you comprehended. offered to everyone.

The battle cannot last forever. Fascinated by the colours That´s what everybody thinks. that were a part of the battle The minds of people miss that lever without a satisfying cover they have to drink to make the links. the whole life seemed just like a prattle. What are you trying to tell me? The enchantment of the feeling You don´t have to understand. created by all these things Let’s say there is a certain degree for a second got me dreaming of knowledge, which is strictly banned. I was flying without wings. Then she stood and raised a hand When my eyes were again opened with a tension in the air I was staring at a shoe she touched my head, the move was bland my brain hadn´t been fully woken around her hand I saw a glare. when I tried to catch a clue. The pain took me over to the death Senses, returning to me slowly but the spirit brought me back. were revealing step by step At the time when I caught my breath a picture of the man who ghostly I was shrinking on the track. appeared out of nowhere, schlep. Do you hear it? I think it´s yours. Looking up the shoes, legs, waist, Familiar rattle rumbled. it wasn´t a man, no, it was a lady. Do you want to make me a corpse? BANG. The eyes stopped at the face. Trying to get up I tumbled. Scary? Maybe. Surely shady! It takes the death to know the life Her eyes looking right in mine at that time I realized. a cold paralyzing stare The world needs never-ending strife gave me terrifying time. to know what´s good, to do what´s right. Run or move? I didn´t dare. And then it came, the angry bray. A sign of a smile appeared. I heard the shriek, I saw the ray. Hello Matej! that lurid wile. Maybe betrayed, maybe strayed. Suddenly, my mouth was seared. I lain in the way of the train. Lets have a talk, just for a while. I closed my eyes, thought ´bout life Finally, the voice came out. and in my mind I heard the voice Excuse me madam. Do I know you? Thanks darling, I am satisfied You do darling, there´s no doubt. you were an entertaining choice. I don´t believe it to be true. I opened my eyes just to find It doesn´t matter if you do. I was, where I had sat before said she and sat next to me. It wasn´t day, it wasn´t night I need somebody to talk to It was the time when these two fight. and I´ve seen you sitting here.

and it wasn´t the same fight no more.

Mist of life

Wandering through life With careful steps like on the edge of a knife Hopefully i will reach the goal And fill in the heart hidden hole

Wondering how to get through that mist So the good path wont be missed Though the mist is thick and vicious Creeping Death My spirit is still ambitious

Or perhaps i'll be saved by a twist of fate I was never perfect Known by us all, our old unpredictable mate and I will never be. Good things we shall cherish Plain, unworthy object, And our doubts will soon perish that's how it is, it is ME. So, stay strong friend o' mine Dont get lost in that maze But one ultimate flaw Follow your heart as a twine Which I hate the most And happiness like a fort will raise The unbreakable law You've got only a dose

A miracle of life, you might say But is it ? Is it really? It is a curse, I wish to stay! Skulking void inside Haven't you noticed silly? (Mist of life pt. 2) A trial version of life Where are you, my dear friend ? Take a peek and then leave! I cant see you anymore To carve out a life with knife Is this the end ? I will break those shackles and GOD! are going to hear my roar ! thieve! Why i have to be the forsaken one ? I cant even feel the warmth of the sun Deceive The Grim Reaper I surrender, i am done Spit in his face Reason to stay ? i have none ! Sorry God, I am the keeper Keep your grace Though, one thing i would like to know Why am i here, what is my reason Should i remain, or should i go? Who is the creator of this treason ?

Spare puzzle piece Card in deck with no pair I cannot find the peace It is more than i can bear

HOLY WATER by Ondrej Radačovský, 2AjJM I have always had this habit of identifying with literary characters. It should be considered successful if readers are able to do so. It means that they have experienced something similar as the character, or that they want to. But I have always seen differences between me and the characters. I remember loving all Tolkien books, but as I grew, I somehow lost connection with hobbits. I was not so small, but most importantly, I was not so simple. But I’ve always loved being a Scout. Until now. Because I have just realised that Boo from my story is not a hero at the end. God, did I want him to be one. And he ends up as a bloody psycho. Now, I am a hero, although not altogether sure it is the way I wanted it to be. My father always told me not to be mean to our neighbour. I would tell him that I was not mean, that I was just curious. Futilely. That is why, as a child, I never ended up with any information about him. I did not know his name, his profession, his family. I did not even know whether he had a dog. It was driving me crazy. He was dangerous; I felt it. And since no one was willing to believe me back then, I had to make a plan and save the world. So I started to observe him whenever possible and I jotted down all I saw. When reading these notes, I can clearly see how time changes everything, even the way we perceive other people. He was very old. I thought that he had to be around ninety back then, but I still cannot tell with any certainty how old he really was, since it was thirty years before, which would make him 120 years old. And that would be crazy, right? He was also very tall and huge, Titan-like huge. That is why I started calling him Prometheus, in blind faith that he was helping people. But still, I had to check on him a little. Being a son of a businessman sucks. But being a son of a successful businessman, it is like being shunned by your whole family. Therefore, I had nothing to do and I was always on my own. Fortunately, I had no friends at all back then, and I could devote all of my free time to myself. My very purpose of living was very simple: I just wanted to know who my Prometheus really was. My father was really successful. When I was born, he had already had a chain of bookshops called Sia. Somehow, he was able to sell books at low price; giving him many customers. Actually, his clientele was so enormous that they called themselves the Siathors, and tended to meet on a monthly basis to discuss their favourite books and authors. Since my father was very good at his job, he naturally used this fad to expand. He started to organise these monthly events himself, inviting famous writers and thinkers, and opened cafés in each of his

shops. Thus, the Siathors kept meeting for many years until a strange accident happened when discussing the book, The Ancient Secret of the Flower of Life, resulting in many dead people, including my father. Then, the whole ‘cult’, as my father used to refer to the Siathors, ceased to officially exist. During the time before the explosion of gas, which was actually on a day before my 19th birthday, I was occupied with Prometheus. After couple of months, I realised that he was leaving his house the very second my father did. But of course, I was told it was none of my business. Yeah, strange. The explosion was strange, because the building was new. There was no reason for it to have happened and the investigators did not understand it at all, but they were forced to let it go. But I could not. Not after seeing my dear Prometheus coming home just a minute before I was told what had happened. Well, he was actually running, holding his hood really low. Psycho. I did not know what, but I was sure something had happened, because I had never seen him run before. In fact, I had thought that he was not able to run, he was extremely old. Yet, in the very moment, he was running home as an athlete. Of course, the police did not believe me. Of course, ‘… post-traumatic stress.’ Of course, I lost my mind. Of course, ‘it is just for a while, until you are OK, mister Ganesha.’ Of fucking course, I spent ten years in an asylum God knows where. Fortunately, they did not manage to deprive me of my house, because they were not able to enter it. The door was actually made by my father, so I guess he made his job perfectly. Of course I was able to open it, I am a Ganesha for Christ’s sake. Then, I armoured myself with two knives and ricin powder and waited until the psycho left his house. God, how could he have lived so long? I feel like God now, stopping a never-ending life, killing something intended to last forever. His house, yes, that cathedral of his. I have never been a fan of old buildings, actually, I have never loved anything old. I could not understand my father’s obsession with his old books about old religions and myths. That is why I did not attend any of the Siathors’ reunion; that is why I hated my father as well. The door opened with such a screech that I was happy Prometheus had gone somewhere. The house was hideous. After I closed the door (I almost thought it would close itself), I could not see anything. I could only smell the… I do not think it has a name. It was absolutely abominable. I smelt blood, definitely. Some kind of gas making me sick. Then, the malodour I had known from church (why would he need a frankincense in the house?). Then an ancient torch burst into flames. I was scared to death. However, I wanted to be quick because I did not know when he could come back. Thus, I grabbed the torch (it was cold as ice) and started walking forward. The walls were hung with colossal paintings. God, were they repulsive. They were full of fire, some kind of demons burning and screaming, and a person in front of them with a vial in his hand. I do not know why, but looking at the paintings made me furious. I left the reeking corridor and ran upstairs. There was the same stench in the room. Hideous monster. The room was obviously used as

a private library. Indeed, I had never seen so many books before. In the middle of the room (which was actually built as a circle!) was an enormous roundtable covered with books and papers. What a mysterious man. Latin! Of course he could read in Latin: he was old. And a priest as well, he had to be a priest. The books, Latin, the frankincense, the paintings! God, the paintings! Who was he? Some kind of an exorcist? These thoughts made me absolutely frantic. I started to scrutinise the papers on the table. After a while, there were dozens of Latin books on the ground. Then my heart ceased to beat. I found a book my father wrote on mythology: Ragnarök. Silly old man. A strange title of a strange book written by a strange man. Even now, I do not know what it means; it doesn’t matter. I despised his work. I despised everything about him. Even thinking about him makes me sick. How come that after so many years even an arbitrary thought of him dizzies me? I hurled myself at the table, raging. The books were flying all around me. The rage made me breathless. But then, I’ve suddenly seen it - at the top of the table, there was a sign I knew. The Ancient Secret of the Flower of Life was covered by the very sign. I was suddenly aware of the fact that Prometheus was indeed the one who murdered my father. Not only my father, but all the Siathors who were there. God! God! I found the book in the racks and compared the signs. Exactly the same sign. I was ready to butcher the bastard. I laid the book on the table, and sprinkled the first few pages with the ricin powder. I wanted to make him suffer. A scraping noise behind my back interrupted my dreaming. When I turned around, Prometheus was furiously trying to find something in his pocket. Such a moron. I grabbed him and threw him on the table and thrust the first knife into his stomach. Did I enjoy the screaming! I was yelling at him, beating him with the handle of the second knife. Of course, he was shouting about some kind of monsters. Of course, I was one of them. Of course, he was trying to save the world. Of course, my father’s cult was a secret satanic sect prepared to destroy God. After I punched him twice in the face, the scumbag told me that he killed the Siathors only with holy water, and that he had poured it even into the town duct because of the demons. What a load of crap. I had been drinking the water all the time and I had been alright so far; ergo, I was not a demon after all! In that moment, he started yelling something in Latin. It was making me fierce and my head hurt, so I started stabbing his body in a frantic paroxysm. I could not stop. I thrust the second knife into his mouth, took the first one from his stomach and cut through his carotid artery. Then, I stood there in such exceptionally tremendous a burst of blood that I could not stop laughing. Then I came home, washed off the blood and sat here to write it down. I am ready to continue investigating it, but I need to jot it down at first to think clearly. But my head hurts so much I cannot even

Lord of the Drinks

by

3AJAKb

Dučáková Katarína Jurčišinová Ivana Krajčírová Lucia Nurko Matej Pastorová Alena Potičná Andrea Kostecká Adriana Kužila Stanislav

Morning. Or, if only I could say it was morning. I woke up at 1pm feeling terrible. I had a terrible head-ache and my stomach was making funny noises. All I could hear were waves of the ocean, birds sang their favourite melodies, calm and fresh air blew around. -What was I doing last night? - I tried to recall at least the smallest flash of events about last night but I just couldn’t. The only thing I was sure about was the fact that I drank so heavily but I could hardly remember for what occasion. But there was another thing. I could still remember. My dream. It was a terrible dream, more a nightmare then a dream. Another one from that night. I saw it as if it was yesterday. The feeling of cold air and the dark, empty town. I was going home from work, so it was around 3o´clock in the morning. It was Wharf Street, this place I will never forget. I had earphones on and was listening to U2, thinking about my life and wondering what the future will look like. Suddenly, two men appeared ahead and were heading towards me. I didn’t pay any attention to them because they looked nice and not at all dangerous. But, you know what they say; do not judge a book by its cover. As they approached me, one of them hit me and I fell on the ground. He held me down while the other was searching in my bag for money and any other valuable things. They took everything. Of course, I have notified the police but they never found them. I shook my head trying to get rid of this memory. I slowly opened my eyes and tried to find out where I am. The place at first didn´t look familiar to me. There was a big mess and as I turned around I saw clothes all around the floor. But not just my cloths. BOOM! Noise from the corner cut off my thoughts. Suddenly I knew the place. It was my place. -Helen! You stupid, shaggy cat. You scared me! - She stared at me for a while and then she left. Without warning, my head was bursting with pain, so I laid down. Just then, I realized I was on the edge of the bed. I rose up, leaned against the wall and noticed two persons sleeping there. I jumped on my feet and stared in disbelief. A question crossed my mind: Who the hell are they? ***************************************************************************** Just as every other day, I was working the night shift from 7 p.m. to 3 o‘clock in the morning. It was a normal Sunday so I expected just few regulars of our pub. I put some nice clothes on, petted my cat Helen, went out of the door and locked them. –Keys, wallet, phone,

okay, I have everything. - I thought to myself as I was leaving for work. As I was on my way down the street, my laces got untied. I sat on the nearest bench to tie them back. Then I got up, but felt something in the back of my shorts. I tried to look there, but it was impossible so I touched it with my hand. -Ewww…chewing gum. Great! Really, a great start of my work day. Thank you, whoever you are! - I was grumbling the rest of the way to the pub. When I got there I changed my clothes, as I usually do because you never know when one of those drunkards is going to pour some drink on you. And today it was especially helpful to have reserve clothes. This time I also put some mascara on my eyelashes, make up on my pale skin and red lipstick on lips so I would look like I had a good sleep last night even though I hadn’t. Lizzy, my colleague with whom I get on well, informed me that we will be having a special customer. I laughed when she explained it to me for it wasn’t any special customer, just one of her son’s teachers who, in her opinion, was sexy as hell. So basically, she just exaggerated the situation and as it had nothing to do with me I didn’t give it any measure of importance. We left the dressing room and prepared the pub for opening which included putting and counting money in the cash register. It took us quite a long time but we always wanted to be sure if everything is okay. Then we checked and cleaned the bathrooms, spread the chairs and tables, and turned the music on. The last and most cherished thing we did was having a jigger of tequila. Now, we were ready to do our job - pour drinks, stop fights, spread cheer, make sure everybody is having a good time, and pretend that we love our customers. As usual, the first customer was Marzio, a young man in his late twenties. He waved at us and sat in the corner. I nodded at Lizzy and automatically started to make his favourite drink. I decorated it with a little umbrella on the top and brought it to him. -Ciao Marzio. Good to see you. How´s the bambino? - I asked when I reached his table. Marzio looked at me with his dark eyes and sight. -The bambino doesn´t sleep. I need a holiday or something. - I tried to hide a smile. He was a good guy, but still quite childish. His wife, Anita, had really a lot of patience with him. But they were a cute couple and they fit together well. And their little baby was just another piece of happiness. I let him with his drink and went back to Lizzy. -Today it looks as if the whole city was dead. - She said to me, looking across the empty bar. -Give it a little time. - I answered and started to clean the glasses. Lizzy nodded and continued with wiping down the bar with old stains, each a memory and a story of the happy moments and even a couple of bad ones that happened there. -Pour us another shot Lizzy or we are going to die of boredom here. - I said to her when I finished. She prepared another two shots, laughing loudly. -What? Am I not right? - I tried to look as innocent as possible but she was just laughing. -Cheers, m´am! - She said. -Cheers! - It went like this for another hour, when suddenly the door opened. I looked up and saw a man. A sexy man. A man sexy as hell, I would say. –Of course, the teacher of Lizzy´s son. - I thought to myself and smiled. -Buonasera. - Buonasera. - As I was looking at him, I found him quite familiar, but after a while I gave up trying to recognize him. -What would you like? - I asked him with the customers´ smile (as we, Lizzy and I, called the smile dedicated to all customers). -Beer and double cinzano. –

I thought no, please no, don´t look into my eyes, I started to make his order. -Buonasera Mr. Bertone, I am glad to see you here. - Lizzy came back from toilet and smiled at the man. -Yes, yes, good to see you. - He grumbled. –I already don´t like him. - I said to myself and gave him his drinks. -So, what is the problem with Silvio again? - She was trying to look sweet and nice, but I saw that she was just acting. -I don´t want to talk about it in here. That´s what parent-teacher conferences are for, I came here to have a drink and relax. - Lizzy´s smile froze. She went to another customer and left me with this “nice” man. I ignored him for a while, then I noticed he was looking at me. -You need something? - I didn´t even try to be nice to him anymore. -Didn´t we meet somewhere? - He asked me with interest in his voice. -I don´t think so, sir. - I answered and continued with washing up when the door opened. I turned around and saw another sexy man walking straight to the bar and this Mr. Bertone. -Ciao Pablo! - The two men greeted loudly. I waited until they kissed each other’s cheeks. After that, the new man looked at me and with a big smile said -Be so kind, two double cinzanos and two beers, please. - I smiled back at him. Such a different approach! -Here you are, sir. -Thank you sweetie. - He winked at me and started to talk with Mr. I-Am-Better-Than-You-You-Piece-Of-Nothing. -Are they gay? - Lizzy asked me after about half an hour. I burst into laughter and looked at them. -Yeah, maybe yeah. Who do you think is The MAN? - Both of us started to giggle and then laugh loudly. Of course, it could’ve been because of the alcohol. We were allowed to drink at work and I couldn´t decide if it was right or wrong. That night we had so few customers, that the amount of drinks was getting bigger and bigger. -What´s so funny, ladies? - asked the kind one. -Nothing, nothing really. Would you like something else? - I answered, still smiling. He was just staring at me, still with a big smile. -Maybe one thing but…No, let it go. We have everything. Thank you. - I looked at Lizzy, but she just shrugged her shoulders. I looked on the clock. - Lizzy you can go home if you want to. I can make it on my own. - I said to her. -Really? - I nodded and smiled. -Okay, so see you tomorrow - she kissed me on cheeks and went to change her clothes. I stayed in the bar with the two Maybe-Gay guys and one other man who was sleeping on the table. I poured myself another drink. –This night is so boring- I sighed and drank from my drink. If only I didn´t say that. As time went on some other people came. I was quite drunk, but I could handle it. -Would you like something? - I asked one of the guests with the customers´ smile. The man looked at me. -The most expensive drink you have here! And quickly! - I lifted my brow. -Excuse me?! -Are you deaf? - The-most-expensive-drink-and-quickly! - He repeated as if I was retarded or something. I took a deep breath, preparing for a little scene, when suddenly one of the Maybe-Gays, the worse one, came to the bar and shook his head. I closed my mouth, waiting for what was going to happen. -Pardon, sir, you are familiar to me? -Hm - he scratched his head. - Oh, of course! Your son is attending my lessons. Pete, right? - I was confused. At first annoying guy, now my saviour? I just didn´t understand. -Yes, Pete. And what? - The rude man turned to Mr. Bertone. -Well, he failed the last exam. Maybe if you were to reconsider your behaviour

I would be willing to give him a chance to retake it? - The rude man´s face flushed, but he didn´t say anything to him, he just turned back to me. -I would like to have something good to drink, please. - He reordered. -Of course. How many? -Five drinks, please. - He answered sourly. I poured him five glasses of Lowland Reposado, one of the most expensive beverages in our bar. I took the money and when he went to his friends, I looked the Mr. Bertone. -Thank you, but I could’ve dealt with him. -It was my pleasure. - He gave me an ear-to-ear smile. –What the hell? - I thought to myself, because now I was totally out. I decided to ignore this strange fact and do my job, but suddenly both of them sat in front of the bar. -Can we sit here from now on? - The nice one said with a big smile. -As you wish. - I answered, still quite confused. -How long have you worked here? – asked the kind one. -Well, about three years. - He nodded. -Quite a long time. Do you like this kind of job? -Mhmm. - I really wasn´t in the mood to talk to them. It seemed that he noticed it. -What do you drink? - I threw him a sidelong glance. –Drinks for free? I like it. – I said to myself. -I drink tequila. -Okay, so one tequila and two cinzanos, please. - I poured the drinks, took the money, drank the shot with them. -By the way, my name is Pablo. And this is my Michael. - Oh, damn! Here we are. They really are gay. God, are you kidding me? Why the hell these sexy lads have to be gay? But all I said was -I´m Mary. -Nice to meet you, Mary. - We had about five more rounds and I found both of them quite friendly and funny. It seemed that it would be a good shift after all, but then things started to go wrong. At first, the group with that rude man got really drank and started to make problems. -Put that down! IMMEDIATELY! - I shouted at one of them when he lifted the table in the air and was going to throw it at one of his fellows. Well, guess what? He threw it across the room. -AND ENOUGH! - I started to yell. -Are you crazy or what?! - He looked at me, drunkenly, and waved me off. I got red. -What?! - But before I was able to do anything, my two new friends took care of it. They kicked them out and also gave one of them a black eye. -Thank you guys. Drinks on me now. - And so we got another two. I was really getting drunk, but thanks to my nerves I didn´t feel it so much. Then a second problem appeared. A weird guy came to the bar. He ordered vodka and, for the next twenty minutes, angrily mumbled to himself over it. When he finally left, we celebrated him leaving with another round. -You have such beautiful eyes! So grey and filled with life and light! - said Michael suddenly said to me. I blushed and looked down at my watch. It was something before 3 a.m. so I went to wake up our drunk friend sleeping on the table. As he was here before, I knew he was a kind person and he would not cause any problems. I also knew he lived just few metres from the bar that’s why I didn’t doubt he would get home safely. After he paid his bill and walked out, I realized that the Maybe-Gays are still there watching me cleaning the last dirty cups. -Hey beauty! Could we, me and my boyfriend, stay for a bit longer? - I was looking from one to the other and back again and my stupid drunk brain told me to allow this and I let them stay a half an hour longer. -Guys, I’ll give you 30 minutes but then you really have to leave. -All right, fair enough. - Said Mr. Bertone. -Would you like to join us? - Asked the second. As my brain didn’t

work properly I was flattered by the offer so I accepted it. We drank 4 more tequilas together When I looked at the watch again I found out it was almost 4 o’clock but I wasn’t sure because I couldn’t rely on my eyes sight at such a situation as this was with so much ration of alcohol in my veins. -Okay boys, it´s time to go home! - I said, but in fact now I was in a party-mood. So I found it a great idea when one of them, I really can´t remember which one, said that we can party in someone’s flat. -I live just 10 minutes from there. -God, why did I say that? It was a bad, a very VERY bad idea but it was too late because both of them agreed. Well, at least they are gay so I have no reason to worry. I continued with talking to myself. -Three hundred- f….shut up! I´ m trying to count the money! - We laughed, but finally I somehow finished counting. I locked the money into the safe, took one bottle of tequila from the bar (yes, I´ve paid it), walked out of the bar together with my gay friends and locked up. -So, this way gentlemen. Follow me. - Our journey to the after-party, as we named it, lasted long because we had to stop several times. I was playing a child and doing foolish things. Jumping on the guys´ backs, slapping their butts, kissing everywhere I could reach and many more incidents I would be later really ashamed of. When we finally got, let’s call it, home, I felt like I was hit by a truck having dizziness, trying not to puke but having fun with the strangers at the same time. -So, welcome! This is my little kingdom. -It´s a really beautiful flat. - Pablo admired it. They sat in the living room while I went for glasses. BOOM! CRASH! -What happened? - I automatically came back to the room. They were sitting on the couch with their legs up. -Are you serious? It´s just Helen, my cat. -You didn´t say that you have a cat! - They screamed but in the next second we were all laughing. After a while, Pablo turned on the radio while Michael poured us drinks. -So to the new unexpected friendship! Cheers! - Said Pablo and we answered: -Cheers! - It looked innocent until… ******************************************************************************* -Who the hell are you? - Now I didn’t say it only for myself in my mind but aloud. It woke up one of the two guys. -Hey, darling, what’s going on? Why are you speaking so loudly? - When I got closer to his face, what made him smile, I got a picture but not a full picture of last night. It was like when you are dying or in danger and you see some significant parts of your life in a very short time, as they say, but I don’t know if it is true because I haven’t died so far. -Oh, good morning Pablo. I’m sorry I woke you up. -It’s OK. Nevertheless I wanted to talk to you, privately, but Michael was with us all the time so I couldn’t. Is there any room we could have a little talk without Michael hearing us? -Oh, you know it is a small flat. The only place is the bathroom. -Ok, let’s go there but try not to make any noise. - So we were in my bathroom, me, sitting on the edge of a bathtub, and he, standing and looking straight into my eyes. He told me that he loves Michael, but he wasn´t sure if he really was gay, if it wasn´t just some twist in his mind and that he had to try it with some girl and I was an easy prey. I was shocked and I didn´t know what to say. -Do want some coffee? - I asked him because nothing better had come to my mind. He nodded and so we went out of bathroom. I went to the kitchen, while Pablo to the bedroom, probably to wake

up Michael. -He´s not there. - He came to the kitchen. -Well... – again, I didn´t find the right words, so I just continued with preparing and serving the coffee. I heard Pablo go back to the bedroom, where after a few minutes I joined him while carrying two mugs of coffee. But he wasn´t there. Strange. I felt really conscious and fully aware of something unpleasant coming towards me. -Where are my keys? – Suddenly, I caught myself hurrying to the bar and trying to figure out why I was so nervous. The way to the bar seemed longer than usually and when I got there, the appearance of my working place was perfectly OK with no sign of vandalism, robbery or any other crime. As I did not have the keys with me, because it still remained a mystery where I lost them, I found the secret way to the bar, opened the door with my special trick and entered it. Did I clean before I left? Because I usually don’t and leave it for the next day and now the place was incredibly tidy. Did I clean the floor and wash up all the glasses? What was wrong with me? I never do that so why now? I switched from the curiosity and surprise to fear and uncertainty. The two of them must have helped me. But why? All of a sudden I remembered one thing. They´ve really helped me with cleaning the bar. And also with the back part of it. I slowly went there, to the back room where the safe with all the money was. When I saw it, I´d lost my breath. The safe was opened and empty. I didn´t know what to do. Should I’ve called the police? Or broken the window and made it as if a robbery had taken place here? Finally, I decided to tell the truth.

*************************** ** * 2 months later **********************************

-Are you still repaying that incident? - asked Lizzy as we were closing the bar. I sighed and nodded. -Poor you. How can there exist such a ***** as were those two?! - She was still angry about the two gays or thieves, or whatever they were. I just shrugged my shoulders. I have totally resigned. What worse can happen to me? Since that night I was careful about people and also careful with alcohol. -What are you thinking about? You don´t look good. - Lizzy looked at me with worries. -Nothing sweetie, really. I´m just quite sick or I don´t know. Every morning is terrible. I think it´s because of the stress and everything that has happened so far. - The horrified glance that she threw at me has scared me even more than my health. -What? - She answered after a while. -Mary...aren´t you...couldn´t you be... well... pregnant? - For a moment I was totally frozen, but then I just smiled at her. -No chance! – But on the way home I was thinking just about that, so after Lizzy has got off the taxi I told the driver to stop at the nearest open drug store, where I bought a pregnancy test. As soon as I locked the door, I ran to the toilet to try it. -Okay now...two minutes. Calm down, Mary, calm down. You are not pregnant. This is just to be sure. - I was trying to relax. There was nothing to worry aboutay, two minutes. Here we go! - I looked at the test. On the display there was a little plus. …THE END

The Watchers by Dr. Evil

1

I went through all the things I´ve packed at least three times. I do that a lot. Always setting my mind on everything else instead of focusing on what I am supposed to do. It sometimes leads to embarrassing situations, or worse. I remember that one time when me and my wife were at our friend´s birthday party, and, of course, she left me in charge of bringing the gift with me (it was this huge statue of some Egyptian God). She left it right next to the door, and as you can guess, it remained there the whole time. She was so mad at me for it, that we spent the whole ride back in a complete silence. I wish I could say that it was the only time something like that happened, but it wasn´t. We always had these “silent fights” when we just stared angrily at one another, and eventually started talking and all turned out to be funny in the end. I had to improvise with the gift, so I just picked up some flowers from their garden and (you can say good looking) pieces of rocks, and made a homemade vase. I don´t know how did I ever get to have a wife like that. So understanding and funny. I sometimes blame myself for what happened. Ah, I did it again! Ok, lets see: three pairs of shoes, four pairs of pants, sweat-shirts, couple of hats… It appears I have all I need. Today was a long day, I didn´t even make my bed. Maybe that´s for the best, I don´t have the strength to stand, not to mention do anything else besides finally lying down.

2

It´s almost 2 a.m. I am exhausted like never before and I can´t fall asleep. My apartment is on the second floor and I can hear the rain and wind rustling through the cracks in my window. I am trying to ignore that but the harder I try, the harder it gets. I had trouble sleeping since the funeral, so my sister prescribed me with some pills to help me. I told her that it helps, but I am having vivid nightmares after I do so, so I am refusing to take one right now. I throw my pillow on the chair next to the bed and turn myself facing the wall. I was going through my plan in my head again and again. I will set sail tomorrow and meet my sister in London in 3 months tops. The carriage will then take us to Birmingham and then it´s off to Bergen from there. I have never been to Norway, so I am quite looking forward to it, and to my sister´s wedding of course. It will be a nice change of pace since the ugliness that never seems to leave me. Suddenly, I feel

the presence of someone in the room. I hesitate to turn around. What if I am having those nightmares again? What if I can´t escape them even without the pills? To hell with it! I must face them in order to overcome them. I turn around. The room is empty. However, I notice that the pillow is now lying on the floor. Must have fallen from the chair. I go and pick it up, and that´s when I notice it. A shadowy figure crouching in the corner of the room next to my wife´s piano. I freeze, my heart stops. When I have those nightmares it was always of my wife hanging herself in the room with her nightgown covered in blood. I never had a nightmare about our unborn child through. Could it be it? I am afraid to come closer, yet I am drawn to it all the same. I hear a whisper coming from under the bed, and as I turn around, I see someone crawling from underneath it. It is another shadowy figure, and as with the first one, I can´t see its face, but I know that they are both staring at me and coming towards me. They are murmuring something but I can´t make out what. I am now completely freaked out but I can´t run. As soon as I am within their reach I wake up. It really was just a dream. It is 4 a.m. and I realize I won´t be sleeping any more tonight. 3

As I was leaving my apartment the very next day, a neighbor stopped me and asked me if I heard what has happened. Our landlord, Mrs. Crowley, was found dead at her apartment that morning. He told me that apparently she cut her wrists and bled out right next to her bed, but she must have come to a change of hearts after that because there were marks of her nails scratching the floor all the way to the first aid kit which she kept in her cupboard in the kitchen. I was shocked, she seemed always so happy and full of life, I just couldn´t think of a reason why she had done it. Also, none of us heard any screams for help when she cut herself. The whole thing left me with an unsettling feeling. I could not stop thinking about my nightmare and the fact that, probably, around the same time, Mrs. Crowley cut her wrists. A police officer stopped me outside, and wanted to know how well did I know Mrs. Crowley, and if I happened to know if she had some troubles lately. He was getting really suspicious for having heard about Mrs. Crowley being a genuinely nice person who enjoyed living as much as she enjoyed visits from her grandson, and given the fact that I was leaving town for a year. He then told me that if he had any further questions he will look me up. This is not the kind of thing you want to go through before your voyage. I traveled by ship only once with my dad, almost twenty years ago, and I don´t remember much of it for I was just a boy back then, but I am feeling the same nervousness today…

My cabin was a small room (similar to my apartment) with the light switch hanging from the ceiling in the middle of the room. It also had a small round window in the bedroom and in

the small bathroom that was build up in the corner of the small room. It wasn´t really roomy, as you can imagine, but I have endured worse. More than the room, the thoughts I had before the trip worried me much more than the cabin or the ship itself. I felt almost as if I had to go to my wife´s funeral again. Watching the casket being closed and lowered into that deep hole in the ground and myself thinking all along, what if she wakes up down there…? We set sail at noon on a cold April night. I wasn´t really nervous about the icebergs for I have been ensured by the captain himself that after the Titanic sinking almost eight years ago, ships have been reinforced with harder steel compartments. I don´t know if he tried to settle me down or if he really spoke the truth, but I would say that it was his self-confidence that made me believe everything was going to be all right. My first night in the cabin, however, was far from all right. I fell asleep as soon as I lied down, and I again saw the shadowy figures, “the watchers” as I call them now. The first time I saw them in my apartment they actually did move, and kind of whispered something, this time however, they only stood there in the room. This time there were three watchers, all the same height. One stood at the bottom of my bed and it seemed like his neck was growing bigger, the other one was by the entrance to the bathroom and the third one was standing by the window, blocking the light of the moon from reaching into the room. I woke up, it was again 4.a.m. I went to the bathroom to wash my face and noticed, that, in my sleep, I scratched myself on the arm. I never did that before… How come I did not wake up when I did it? I sat in the chair in the room to read a book, and as I reached for my glasses on the table, the watcher ran away from under the table into the bathroom. I went after it, but the bathroom was empty. I am beginning to lose my mind, I thought to myself. The next morning, I went on to the top deck to try to escape from my thoughts. It was a foggy day, with the calmest water you´ve ever seen. It was so peaceful there that if it hadn´t been for the ship´s police officer, I would have fall asleep there immediately. He called everyone to join him in the ball room. He informed us that three people have been found dead in their cabins. I couldn´t believe it! One of the passengers was strangled with the sheet from the bed, the other one seem to have been stabbed with a piece of glass in the bathroom, and the third one was beaten so hard that his skull cracked. We had a killer on board and I was convinced that it had to be those watchers I´ve seen in my room the night before. How to tell them that they were probably killed by some dark creatures I saw in my dream? They would have declared me insane, locked me in my room and sent for the authorities right after the arrival in England. I can´t tell them about it, I won´t! I have to figure this all out by myself.

The police officer asked us all to sleep in the ball room tonight. Everyone agreed, but I was full of doubts about how do we protect ourselves, if the killers aren´t even real?! It was the night of nightmares; the lights went out at 11.p.m. I remember falling asleep thinking that this might be my

last night alive, despite all the comforting from the police officers that they will be awake all night to watch over us. There were at least 30 watchers in my dream this night, they were all over the ball room, again, standing motionless, soundless, just standing there in the slightly illuminated space. I woke up when one of them suddenly approached me and grabbed me by the arm. It freaked me out so much that it woke me up, only to find 30 dead bodies all around me… one of the passengers that were lying beside me, holding my hand as he was bleeding out, murmured before he died : “Why did you do this…?”

Hunger John Travels from Paper Town by 2PAb Institute of British and American studies Michaela Stashevská Marek Pancurák Miriama Molnárová Michal Mikuš Markéta Matisková Katarína Spišáková Veronika Vargová Žaneta Žitňáková Juraj Strakoš Matej Platko Iryna Lynnyk Dominika Bujalková Viera Compeľová Lea Johanides Stanislav Kužila Katarína Bodišová

He was asleep, in the middle of the road, for there was nothing else left. He woke up as he felt the cold, unforgiving breeze upon his bare skin. He slowly opened his eyes, as if he didn’t even want to wake up, just to realize that it is not a dream; that this was reality. This city, him lying on the ground, buildings looking like paper, desolated and destroyed, some still burning. He had a few wounds here and there, and his nose was bleeding but he was thankful because he felt still alive. His body was working but his mind was struggling. He tried so hard but nothing was coming. No memory, no image of what had happened, only what was before him. He was lying there watching those buildings falling down like paper models in a light breeze. Then he submerged his finger into the puddle of blood in front of him and wrote on the ground. Slowly he wrote a name in blood on the road – his name. That moment stirred him up because the name ensured that he had some past. The scary thing was that he felt no fear. It was some kind of faith whispering to his ear: -John! Either I’m deluding you or you will delude me. - Those words helped him up on his feet. He stood up and half walked - half stumbled with a burning town behind his back. -If this burning hell is my past I better walk away from it- hoping not to get into a worse one. He was alone, left here to wander this wasteland. -What have I done to deserve this, why couldn´t I have just died like everyone else? I don’t even remember how this all happened, but I do know one thing, that my name is John and I will prevail! - He heard something move so he started to run, but couldn´t, the air was filled with ash and he couldn’t gulp down air. Choking and coughing he fell to his knees, his eyes watered, his throat was raw, and his knees ached from the seemingly insignificant fall. Through his tear-stained eyes he saw a forest behind one of the buildings and that’s where he wanted to go. So far he saw nothing living, no humans, no animals, not even bugs. Only the ever-consuming flames that prevailed over what remained of the town in the distance. And much like the flames, John´s hunger grew. –Something has to be alive. I have to find something or hunt down something because hunger is the artist with no rival…’s story ends? Read ahead and find out.... On his way to the forest he felt something in his hand. Uncertain and bewilder he look at his open palm and saw a metal band around his finger. Oval and polished to a mirror shine – a thick ring suiting his thick and strong fingers, a wedding ring. – What happened to me - he

thought with thoughts rushing through his head and audibly letting some out into the world. – What the … I don’t… I don’t remember … I don’t remember…… wife. Maybe I just picked it up somewhere. - This final thought, a thin shield of hope, dropped away like a curtain and the memories came flooding in. Among the torrent threatening to rip his mind to shreds stood a single memory so defiant and so vivid that he could almost feel its touch. A memory of a beautiful angel with dark hair, motionless, as if frozen in time; peace and beauty surrounded by destruction. She stood there at the very center, a single thread anchoring him to his sanity with a smile curving her lips. As he let go, so did the memories faded away like the morning mist leaving him shivering and his skin crawling, unable to say if it was the haunting memories or the cold. – No! I must focus now, the night is coming and the sky is getting darker by the minute. I think a storm is coming. - On his way through the forest he felt like something was watching him, he wasn’t alone anymore. A long and distant howl sounded in the distance to his right. He quickened up his pace because the rain was imminent and its smell foul. It must be caused by the ash in the sky. Soon he found a little cave, he made sure it was empty and then he went inside. - Great, another night in the dark and cold - . Just as he finished that sentence it started raining. Few drops fell on his naked arm and the sensation was not pleasant at all. At first, it started to itch and the pain grew and grew. The pain was growing, so he moved farther inside the small cave and he checked his wounded arm while there was still a little bit of light. He noticed something weird. He had a scar on the back of his hand in the shape of a cross. - I don’t remember anything about how I got it. - He slumped to the ground, dog-tired, and sleep came quickly. He had a dream, but the thought it was something more like memories slowly ascended from his subconscious. Still mumbling to himself as he woke up, it was almost dawn, the sky turning royal blue and with his half opened eyes, he saw something in the world covered in black and blue.....a little light in the distance....a light of hope. It woke him up instantly so he got up as fast as his wounded body allowed him, and he went to find out what was the source of that light and said to himself: - I guess this is where my journey begins... -But first I have to gather up some strength. – Almost broken and tired, he fell in and out of continuousness. The following morning the sky once more bathed in royal blue before the dawn was interrupted by the inviting little light. John woke up after a really bad night. He had nightmares all night long and he was thinking about what to do next. He desperately needed to find a better shelter than this godforsaken cave, it was too dangerous to sleep on the ground. He decided to go after the strange light that caught his eye before, so he got up all sore and bruised from the sharp stones on the ground and drank a little bit from the water that was left in the small pool at the back of the cave. It tasted horribly and he almost didn´t wanted to drink it but he was so desperately thirsty, that he tried to ignore the disgusting taste and the smell until he finally gave in to the thirst. One sip after another, each more stale and rancid that the other, but water is water and thirst must be satiated.

On his way through the forest he found some wild berries. Debating whether or not the purplish offering of the forest was safe or not, he tried a single one. A bittersweet taste with a lot of juice inside. He sat for a while and waited, gathering his strength and trying to feel everything inside. Nothing was going numb, nothing was tingling – a good sign. He ate a few more until there was nothing left and his stomach was full. But eventually the inevitable came to pass and his weakened stomach vacated. Putting him on his knees, he started to throw up. It was really cold so he decided to pick up some dry sticks on his way to make a fire when he arrived at the lights source. Something was around him, he could hear it, cracking the branches on the ground, heavily walking. It was a bear, as soon as he saw it, a large brown bear with claws that could easily rip him apart and tear him open. As the bear let out a mighty soul and spirit shattering roar John started to run because he was terrified by the bear’s sheer size and he wanted no quarrel with it. After a good hour and a half of walking and running, as he needed to take a break because he was too weak and exhausted, he finally arrived only to discover that this source of light was an old bunker, overgrown with moss, masked with fallen leaves and old dried up twigs just sitting there, slowly being devoured by the forest. The entrance was a visible, large, and impenetrable looking metal door, almost menacing with its grey paint, and the light must have been just a moon reflection in something shiny lying around, because the bunker looked abandoned for a very long time. He decided to explore it so firstly he set up a fire, and made a few traps to catch something like a rabbit or anything else small and edible that should live in the surrounding forest. He picked up various burning pieces of wood to use them to melt or at least somehow move the hinges on which this door rested. It took several hours to build up the heat and he had to blow air through a piece of pipe to increase the temperature enough. Finally, the top hinge burst into pieces from all the tension, the lower one melted and bent as those heavy doors slammed on the ground with thunderous sound and they fell into the burning flames. John picked up a stick and then used dry grass and resin from the nearby tree to make a torch. The air inside was heavy, as if it hadn’t moved in years. He found some supplies but they were outdated long before. When he turned around, he saw that above the frame of the door was something written: - May it hold until the end of times... built by Prothean bunkers, in..... - The rest of the text was burned out. The bunker consisted of two large rooms separated by a wall and there was a second exit on the other side. There were still things left there as if someone was to come back. An old rusty lamp still standing on a dust covered table, a few books and a diary. Last log was written by somebody named Shepard. He started writing – I, John, found this place on the ninth day of my journey, I am the last human on Earth. It has become my personal hell. I don’t know what to do. I will take some supplies and continue on, maybe if I´m lucky I will find something better. - John had a brief memory in his mind. He saw his wife, children and their home where they had lived. But then their house with his wife & children trapped inside started to burn. John tried to save them but couldn’t. He came too late to set them free. After this memory John started crying. He felt miserable. It took

him a while to get up. In one of the cabinets he found and old gun, a pistol, and to his surprise, it only had one round in the magazine. But he took it with him to the other room where he found a cage so he took it as well, hoping to catch something. Covered with a layer of dust he found a map of the surrounding area, which showed that a canyon was nearby and behind it was another city. "Maybe it will be better there" he thought. Picked up the things he found and headed back outside. The fire was still burning so he just added a few more sticks to it, sat on the top of that cage and started thinking about everything that had happened: What am I going to do? If I´m the last person to walk the Earth what is the purpose of my existence? Why do I have to suffer every day, to fight for my bare life? Is this my punishment for the sins of my past? I am trapped in this living nightmare of a life with no one else to help me, nobody to care for, nobody to love, all alone.... - He was really depressed and sad, with his head held and face cover by his hand. Suddenly, he heard the howling of wolves. He looked up to see them spreading around him. He pulled out the gun he found.....and put it against his head. "Now I´m finally free..." and pulled the trigger. With a loud shot his body fell to the ground, it touched the scorched earth for the last time. For the first and the last time, he had a slight smile on his face..... The wolves hesitated at first but then they came to his body to gobble up the flesh from his bones. As the first wolf wanted to take a bite, another shot thundered through the air. Silent in life, silent in death, the beast fell down to the ground, its fur muffling the fall. It was a group of people, which were lured in by the sound of a gunshot. They shot two more wolves and the rest ran away. They came closer to inspect the body as they saw him, one of them said: - It´s HIM ! –

Albert by Júlia Drozdová

„Don’t let them see us.” „That was the sentence which made me realize there was something going on with my son,” I told the psychiatrist. I was sitting in her office for the first time. I hated it there already. I really didn’t want to go see her, but everyone kept pushing me to do so. I hated them, as well. They didn’t know a thing about what actually happened and yet they thought they had the right to advise me. You probably think that I should have told them to mind their own business. Yes, I did. It didn’t help. After all the quarrels I realized that if I wanted them to shut up, I would have to go eventually. One session wouldn’t kill me. So I ended up there, in that uncomfortable armchair, in a stinky office where all you could see were piles of paper and where you had a feeling that you simply cannot take a proper breath. In order to get rid of that horrible feeling I looked at the opened window, hoping the fresh air would get to me as quickly as possible. You would think that a psychiatrist office has to be cosy in a way. Otherwise, how on earth could you pour out your heart, right? Well, in such a case you didn´t have a choice. „Tell me something about you and your family,“ said the psychiatrist as if she didn’t hear me. I looked at her. I would be lying if I said that she was unpleasant. She was actually the brightest thing in that damn office. With her soft blond hair falling down on her shoulders, with her white blouse and blue skirt, with her big green eyes but mostly with her calm and soft voice which almost made me forget the room I was in. „If you don’t mind,“ she added. „No…okay.“ I straightened my back and looked at the window for a while, then at her, and started talking: „I married at twenty-two. Most people thought that I was either blindly in love or hopelessly stupid to get married so young. To be honest, I was both. When I was twenty-five I had Albert-my son. Now I am thirty-one and I am here.“ The psychiatrist wrote a few notes into her notebook, then asked: „And your husband? Where is he now?“ „Now? Probably with his damn friends in a club playing God knows what and losing all his money,“ I shrugged my shoulders. „You shrugged your shoulders too vehemently.“ I was looking at her with a not very understanding expression on my face. „Excuse me?“ She pointed at my shoulders with her pen. „Your shoulders. You shrugged them in a way that it is obvious he is not indifferent to you.“

What did I say about her before? That she´s the brightest thing in the office? I was still looking at her with my mouth half open and really didn´t know what to say. I could get angry and shout at her not to analyse me, but the cost of this session was 250$, so I would be even more stupid than I was when I got married. So I just shrugged my shoulders again, this time just a bit and said: „Probably. I don´t know. I still live with him, we´re still married and I don´t even know why we haven´t got a divorce yet. We barely talk, he sleeps on the couch. You know, classic story.“ The psychiatrist smiled. „I don´t think your story is classic.“ She cleared her throat, then continued: „What was your marriage like before it happened?“ „Normal. Okay, I guess. It was just the two of us for almost four years, so we travelled a lot. We´ve been to Europe. I think we were happy... I don´t know. I don´t remember.“ She lifted her eyebrows. „You don´t remember?“ „I am trying to forget everything that has happened in the last couple of years.“ „Then why are you here? People usually come to me when they want to cope with something, not when they want to forget.“ „I had to come. Everyone around me was making such a fuss about my behaviour. I just want them to shut their mouths already. That´s all.“ The psychiatrist didn´t say a single word for maybe half a minute. She looked as if she didn´t know how to continue our dialogue at all. „Erm, could you...“ she started suddenly in a higher voice, „tell me what were you like before the... hm... accident.“ „It wasn´t an accident.“ „As you say.“ The psychiatrist wrote something into her notebook, then she put it down on the small coffee table and looked directly into my eyes. „Now, please, tell me what happened. Start at the very beginning,“ she said, her voice normal again. I had never told anyone the story. The only living human that knew every detail was my husband. And I had been trying so hard to forget, not to think about it... I hoped at least it would be the first and the last time that I told the story. „We lived in an apartment back then. My husband and I went to work every day and we dropped Albert at a kindergarten on our way to work. We worked in the same company so it wasn´t a problem. I think everything was fine. Albert was a smart kid. His teachers always praised him and told me how proud I should be. And I was. It began a few weeks after his third birthday although at that time, I didn´t have any idea that something was beginning. Later, we were in his room playing with some toys when he suddenly ran away into the kitchen. „Albert? Where did you go?“ I shouted after him. There was no response, so I thought he just went there to grab a cookie or something. After a while he came back with empty hands.

„What were you doing there, darling?“ „Nothing. Just talking,“ he replied, sat next to me and opened his favourite book about a rabbit. „Oh, talking... I see.“ I was watching him looking at that colourful book and I told myself that the era of imaginary friends had just begun. I myself had one when I was a kid. Her name was Anna and I pretended that she was my little sister I had to look after. My older sister always teased me about it, so I promised myself that I would never do the same to Albert. Days and weeks passed, and I didn´t notice anything abnormal about my son´s behaviour. Of course, I saw him talking to a corner from time to time, but I didn´t pay much attention to it. To reassure myself I even googled something about it and I found out that children, when of a certain age, really do create imaginary friends. But then, one night when my husband was on a business trip, Albert woke me up. „Mommy, I want to sleep in your bed.“ It took a while for me to wake up and realize that Albert was standing next to my bed. Without asking him what was going on, I tapped on the husband´s side of the bed, and Albert crawled over me and lay down. „They don´t want me to sleep,“ whispered Albert into my right ear. „Who?“ „They,“ he pointed to the right corner of our bedroom. I looked there, but I saw nothing. However, I started to feel uncomfortable, even scared. It was the middle of the night, after all. I looked back at Albert. „Honey, them? Who? Nobody´s there.“ Since he kept staring at the corner, I touched the bedside lamp to turn the light on, but that made Albert jump over me and turn the light off. „NO, mommy!“ he hissed in a panicky way. He pushed me to lie down and pulled the blanket over our heads. „Please, mommy, don´t let them see us.“ We didn´t say another word. I just cuddled him and held his hand, and I could tell how scared he was. I realized this whole thing that I took as normal was not normal at all and that those, who Albert had been talking to, were not imaginary friends. He wouldn´t have been afraid of them. I decided I would talk to him first thing in the morning. I barely had any sleep that night and when I woke up, I saw that Albert had been already awake. He was again looking at the corner. I looked there as well, but as I expected, I didn´t see anyone or anything. „Albert? Are they still there?“ He just nodded. I picked Albert up and put him onto my lap to sit down. „Who are they? Your friends?“ I asked him, naively hoping he would say yes. „I thought they were. But they´re not,“ he replied and started to play with buttons on my pyjamas. „So who are they?“ „I don´t know.“ „What do they want?“

„Different things.“ „For example?“ But Albert didn´t answer me anymore. He jumped from the bed and told me he was hungry. I kept trying to talk to him the whole day but he either ignored me or changed the subject. There were a few calm days and nights, and I almost forgot that something weird had happened. We kind of got back to our everyday routine until one night. I was woken up by a horrible scream coming from Albert´s bedroom. My heart immediately started pounding and we both – me and my husband – ran into our son´s room. Albert was sitting on his bed, covering his head and screaming and crying. I squatted down and grabbed his hands. „Albie, what is it? What´s happening?“ He hugged me so strongly I could barely breathe, and cried into my ear. „Make them go away. They´re hurting me.“ Meanwhile, my husband turned on the light and as I looked at him, I saw that he was rather annoyed than afraid. „Who´s hurting you, buddy? There´s no one in here,“ he said almost in a mocking way. I looked at him again with a disgusted expression on my face. How could he be so mean? Couldn’t he had been at least a bit sympathetic? „It was probably just a bad dream,“ he added when he saw my face. „It´s okay, honey. I am here with you now,“ I said to Albert calmly, ignoring my husband. „Do you want me to sleep here with you?“ Albert nodded, still weeping into my shoulder. My husband just tapped him on his head and left the room. I hated him for behaving that way. I turned off the light and lay down with Albert tightly holding my hand. It took a long time for Albert to fall asleep again, he kept tossing and turning around. During the next day, I asked Albert several times about that night, but he, again, didn´t want to talk to me about it. So I tried to talk about it with my husband. However, it was a waste of time. „Look,“ he said to me after I told him I worried about Albert and that I really thought something or someone we couldn´t see was hurting him in some way, to which he replied: „He´s just a kid. Probably some friends of his told him a scary story and now he´s having bad dreams about it and he thinks they´re real. It will go away, you´ll see.“ „But it wasn´t just last night. I told you about the other night, remember? And he has been acting weird for quite some time now.“ He took a bottle of beer from the fridge, opened it and then said: „Then take him to talk to someone.“ „Someone? You mean a psychiatrist?“ He took a sip. „Indeed.“ I was standing there, not knowing what to say, so I just waved my hand at him. Like I said – talking to him about it was nothing but a waste of time. He thought our son was some kind of

a psycho who needed help. One morning after a night, during which Albert came into my bed again, I discovered several bruises on his left forearm and shoulder and I was sure he didn’t have them the day before. That made me realize it was finally the time to do something radical about the situation. „We´re moving,“ I told my husband at breakfast when Albert was watching TV. „He has got bruises, he keeps screaming at night and staring at corners. I´ve had enough.” At first I thought he would laugh or disagree, but to my surprise he just shrugged his shoulders and said: „If you think it´ll help.“ „I think. I hope.“ So we moved to a small bungalow in the suburbs. We had a nice garden where Albert enjoyed playing with his cars. It seemed that all those odd things have stopped. We had a very nice and calm week or two, when everything began all over again. It was almost as if they had been looking for Albert for those two weeks and finally found him. I even started crying when he began to do all the things he had been doing in the apartment. I really hoped it was all gone. After a few weeks it got worse. Albert came into my bed almost every night, he had circles underneath his eyes in the morning and bruises – that time on his chin. I was more and more desperate every day. One day, while Albert was eating breakfast in his chair, I went to the bedroom to grab my phone. When I came back, a big part of the kitchen floor was covered with sugar, flour, and salt. I froze, my eyes opened wide. „Albie? What have you done?“ What a silly question! He couldn´t have done it. He didn´t know how to get out of that chair and even if he did, he definitely couldn’t get back without my help. „They got angry.“ I was frightened. I took Albie out of the chair and went outside to our garden. No matter how hard I was trying to get some answers out of him, he didn´t say a single word. I didn´t have enough courage or strength to go back to the kitchen and clean up the mess. At least, my husband would see what happened. He was quite sceptical when I told him about everything. I started to feel uncomfortable in our house, I tried to spend most of the time outside. Albert was more and more quiet and pale. I really didn´t know what to do. I realized that moving again wouldn´t help. I even began to wonder if I should take him to see either a doctor or a priest. One day I found him pushing a chair towards the balcony in his room. I had no idea what he wanted to do and guessing that was some kind of a game, I asked with a smile on my face: „What are you doing, Albie? Some new game came to your mind?“ He shook his head. „No, they say it would be fun to jump.“ I froze on my way to his bed where I wanted to fold his T-shirts. „W-what?“ „They want me to jump from the balcony. They say it will be fun,“ he answered as if nothing was happening. I rushed towards him and put my hands on the chair. „Are you kidding me?! You know people

don´t jump from balconies. It´s dangerous. You might kill yourself.“ To my surprise, he got angry and grabbed the chair as well. „Stop it. I have to do it. They won´t like it if I don´t. Mommy, stop! Give me the chair.“ „Now, that´s enough!“ I picked up Albert and ignoring his kicking and biting I went outside to the garden. I put him down, he sat on the ground and started crying. „You don´t know what you have done,“ he sobbed. „Albert,“ I said firmly, „you can´t listen to them. Do you hear me? No matter what they say to you, no matter what they want from you, you just can´t do it, okay? Do you hear me?“ When I was telling my husband about that, he, suddenly serious and emphatic, put his arm around me and asked: „What shall we do?“ I just shook my head. I felt like we were stuck. I didn´t see any way out. We lived like that for several weeks. We spent little time in the house, we basically just slept there. We moved Albert´s bed into our bedroom. And then it happened. I really didn´t believe it could get any worse. We were lying in the garden and because Albert got thirsty, he decided to go to the kitchen for his bottle of water. I was following him with my eyes and when he disappeared from my view, I began counting seconds for him to come back. Suddenly the door slammed shut. I immediately got up and ran towards it. I tried to open it, but it was locked. Through the glass part of the door I could see into the kitchen. It was a mess again. The cupboard was open, the dishes were broken on the floor, the flour and sugar were spilled as well. I started pounding on the door and shouting: „Albert! Open the door! Open the door, right now! Albert!“ He turned around and rushed towards the door, but he fell down. It looked as if someone was pulling him by his leg. I saw his big brown eyes filled with terror and fear. „Albie, run to the front door!“ I shouted. But it seemed that he couldn´t get up. They were holding him. Albert was crying and I could see him mouthing the words help, help. „Leave him! Leave him!“ I was shouting as though I was insane. I was trying to break the glass part on the door, but I didn´t succeed. „People, help! Help!“ I was hoping that some of the neighbours would hear me and at least call the police. Meanwhile, letters started to appear in that spilled sugar on the floor. We will help Albert. I didn´t move, I could barely breathe. I only heard Albert crying. It took a few seconds for him to calm down a little, he was looking at one spot – probably them – with his beautiful innocent eyes, still filled with tears. If only I could see or hear them. This way I had no idea what was going on. Albert suddenly sat up and nodded. That woke me up. „Albert!“ I was pounding on the door again. „Albert! Run to the front door. You can open it.

Just run.“ But Albert didn´t do anything even though it looked that they weren´t holding him anymore. „ Please, Albert, run!“ I was crying with my nose pressed against the door. Suddenly Albert took a piece of glass into his small hands. My eyes popped and I started to bang on the door more furiously. „Albert, throw it away! Don´t listen to them! Do you hear me? Throw it away, now!“ But Albert seemed to be in delirium. He was still looking at one spot, ignoring me completely. Then he did it. He slashed his left wrist. „NO! Albert, please, no!“ Pounding on the door, crying and yelling I dropped down on my knees. Albert started crying again, but in a different way. He was still nodding and he lay down on the floor. He reached out his right hand as if he wanted to hold someone else´s. I started kicking the glass part on the door, but nothing happened. I couldn´t get to Albert to save him. I was just watching as blood was pouring out of his wrist, as he was softly crying and getting more and more pale. He wasn´t looking at me. Still fixing his eyes on that one spot, he put his right arm beside him and a few seconds after that he closed his eyes. I could see his chest moving slowly. I didn´t even know when he died. I didn´t know how long I was banging on the door. I didn´t know when my husband opened it and picked me up. I didn´t know what I told him and that I lay down beside Albert and hugged him until he took me into his arms again. I didn´t know what else happened that day. I just knew that my son was dead. I finished talking. I took a tissue from my purse to blow my nose and to wipe my tears. I looked at the psychiatrist. She seemed more pale and tired than at the beginning of our session. „I believe you.“ How on earth did she know that it was exactly what I needed to hear? All those years I have been trying to convince myself that it really happened, that it was them who killed my son and that Albert wasn´t a psycho. And finally, a complete stranger confirmed my thoughts. „Thank you,“ I said to her. She cleared her throat. „You know you won´t ever forget what happened, right? It´ll be with you for the rest of your life. I am not telling you this to frighten you. I just want to... warn you and to let you know that no matter what you´ll do, you won´t forget. Even though you´re trying to, as you told me at the beginning of our meeting.“ „I know. But I can at least pretend that I don´t remember.“ „You can.“ There was silence in the office for a half of minute. „I can give you a receipt on medication against depression, as well.“ „I don´t want pills.“ „As you wish.“

I came home to an empty apartment and sat on the chair in the kitchen. I allowed myself to think of Albert some more. As I stood up to get a bottle of water from the fridge, I could swear I saw someone standing in the kitchen corner.

Life after IAA

A Couple of Thoughts

So my name is Lukas and I graduated from UNIPO about a year ago. When my university life had ended I felt a bit confused as to what to do with my life now that I was about to enter the second stage. Regardless of my insecurity and lack of vision for my own future, time had passed along and eventually I found myself drifting towards networking as a choice of career. I was always a hardware-savvy person but never much for software and much less networking. Currently I work as a custom agent for specific customers (IBM, Louis Vuitton, Sony Music and a few others) for AT&T in Brno. At first glance, this might seem as the classic call center work that most English language graduates fear they will end up doing but that is not actually true. I was never good at speaking with strangers so I was afraid in the beginning, but now, after more than half a year, I realized I am actually learning something here. I do speak to customers at times but mostly to professionals and managers therefore I am able to hone my speaking skills much more efficiently than I was able to at any point in my life. I also realized that networking (although quite extensive and always changing) is something that can be learned even without the need for proper university education. The people I work with are eager to help and no one is getting scolded or fired for making mistakes as long as they are willing to acknowledge and learn from them. All in all, I managed to land work in a field completely beyond my comfort zone but then I realized this very zone is easily adaptable as long as I am willing.

I still remember my days at the University fondly. Mostly the free time I had, compared to now. If I were to recall a fond memory from school, it would be my Literature lessons with Mr. Tomášik. I must admit I was never the perfect student and actively tried to avoid drawing attention but he never failed to make his lessons interesting even despite the material we were supposed to read being, well, boring sometimes. It is that level of competency I was always striving for but to this day I believe I have yet to make any real progress.

To sum it up this short stroll down memory lane, I would say to you, dear student, do not worry about what you will be doing in the future as there is little you can do about circumstances that are yet to present themselves. Study so you have no regrets and are able to leave the University with dignity and knowledge. What I learned during my time at the University is to study enough to be able to finish with no problems and that is also the philosophy I am using at my job presently. I work as much as is needed but not more. Why, you ask? Quality over quantity. I do not aim to overburden myself, as the reason I work in the first place is to be able to live and keep up my current lifestyle. I believe myself to be thorough but when I do my part I am done for the day. Work is always going to be there as well as opportunities.

Last thing I would like to say is: Enjoy the free time you still have but do not believe the ones telling you it will all be lost when you graduate. Those who want to will always find time for their hobbies no matter their circumstances. Enjoy the present and leave the rest to the future you, that person will take care of it for you, trust me.

Lukáš Varga

My life after IAA by Michaela Kiralova

Michaela Kiralova is a graduate from UNIPO, major British and American studies. She moved to London almost immediately after graduating and has been living there since then. Currently, she is working for CRUSH Fit Food Company and enjoys travelling. really interesting, I promise!), and so THEN I graduated from UNIPO on 1st of June 2015 I became a trainer/teacher myself (and, nope, and I didn’t become a full time/part time I am not nearly as sh***y as I thought I would teacher (because I know myself and I would be be J). a sh***y one J and, bear in mind that my major was British and American Studies, not Horrendously huge cliché No. 2: Knowledge is teaching). I didn’t become a freelancer and power, but knowledge mixed with experience is I don’t translate or interpret anything (well I do, a whole new level, trust me. sometimes, but I am not being paid for that and On the top of all that I discovered online, at it’s only because I can’t say no), and I am not EDX platform (edx.org), where most of the employed in some major corporation either. American universities, including Yale or I moved to London on 19th of June, and soon Harvard, upload their courses online and you it will be a year, meaning, I am in a very can study anything you choose. I mean literally serious relationship with this city. J anything, e.g. my boss is studying videogames at MIT at the moment J. I started with If you think I came to the city waving with my marketing courses at UBC (University of British diploma and I got a fancy, serious (read Colombia) as I need them for my job and even boring), white collar job in front of the though I had marketing for one semester back computer, well that’s not true. Although I do at UNIPO I felt like I need to fill up some gaps spent some time in front of the screen, but it’s J. definitely not 8-10 hours per day and I am really glad for that. Regarding to the more fun “stuff” I started to Also if you think that with finishing your studies travel a lot. London, with its five airports, is an you are never ever going to study again, that’s ideal starting point for every trip you can think not true either J. In fact, I have never stopped of and my only limitation is my 28 days of learning (I know, I know horrendously huge holiday per year (well ok and maybe my cliché, spoiler warning: Horrendously huge budget a bit, but I always loved low cost cliché No. 1). Let me just mention a few challenges J). I froze my butt off in Oslo in examples, ever since I have been here, I have February (and now I know why return ticket learned how to make a proper coffee and I am cost me hilarious 15 pounds). I had the best really proud of that, though I am still far far holiday with my friends in Amsterdam in April, away from any kind of latte art (greetings to the we are flying to Reykjavik in September to aguys from Yogi´s J). have a round trip in Iceland and we are planning backpacking through Thailand (there I’ve learned a crazy lot about benefits of is a major logistic involved though, in order to wheatgrass shots and I can fluently converse avoid monsoon periods). We are traveling a lot about proteins, because avocado is so around England as well. We have those “2013” (don’t ask, I can’t believe that I know special bank holiday weekends for mini trips these things either and it may be even more mostly to the seaside cities (because surprising for some people, especially for those Stonehenge is way too mainstream) and I can’t who know me :D). even describe how beautiful this country My employee has sent me for countless actually is. trainings about training itself where I’ve learned how people learn (learning methods: reading, To sum it all up, my life after IAA has been writing, listening, watching, etc., etc. Like, pretty amazing, of course there is a whole

bunch of a “bit more challenging” stuff (I am not going to talk about how much I miss my dog, my mum’s baking, my bed and my arrogant cat). It is never easy to move cities and to start your life someplace else, to move to a country with different cultural background on your own and, therefore, I am honestly glad I chose British and American Studies for I believe it made everything bit more easier for me, and I wouldn’t have it any other way J.

Amsterdam, Netherlands

Canary Wharf, London Gressholmen, Oslo Fjord

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