Prose: Best


“And you won’t check my QR code, all right? I really don’t have one, truly, honestly! I am not marked, you know?


“Dear residents of the capital and guests of our city! We invite you to our festive circus show! Devilish cunning, demonic courage, abyssal enthusiasm!


The Overseer of the entrusted to him otherworldly prison excitedly walked around the reception zone, exhaling tongues of purple flame from time to time.


We are all-around obedient people. We just do what they tell us. We keep watching TV, reading newspapers, crawling in these internets of yours.


In the vast hall, filled with a sky-purple shimmer, with columns soaring to a height that is inaccessible to the eyes of ordinary mortals, filled with the energy of the


“Comrade Captain, the suspect on the claim of blasphemy by the clergy was successfully detained by our task force in the Church of Christ the Saviour and half an hour a


Lightning cut through the night sky of the Metropolis, for a split second illuminating jumped out of the alley and rushed in the direction of “Zone S” man.


Slava Russian was a good fellow. Perhaps, that’s why he was disliked? Really, who now loves Russians, especially ones with such a euphonious name?


“This is simply mind-boggling!” loudly proclaimed the man who just entered the room, on the move sharply closing a door behind him where just a single word was imprinte