And here is an excerpt of the first short story I published.

The Price

Of Glory

Laid down, in front of the holy picture of the Virgin Mary, she was praying and pleading. Far, over in the mountains, the cannon shots and rifle shots were relentless and her brother had left dressed in khaki with his rifle on the shoulder, to wash away the shame of the last war…

“Holy Mary, have mercy…Don’t let my brother come to any harm! He’s so handsome…and so brave…”

He was among the first to go, before he had even been officially summoned and now she knew he was up there in the mountains, where the cannons and the rifles were relentless…

And the Grim Reaper came in front of her, dressed in black, on his black horse and his black bow and arrows.

“I felt sorry for your tears” he said to her “and came to ask you to choose whom you want me to take with my arrow instead of your brother”.

“Whom?” she asked not being able to believe in her ears; “my dear Reaper, take whomever you want but have mercy on my brother!”

“There is no whomever you want. Tell me whom you want me to take with my arrow”.

The maid was trembling.

“But…is it necessary to take somebody with you?”

“Of course! There is no other way…”

“Then…take whomever you want! Don’t ask me!”

“If I take whomever I want, I will take your brother because it’s his turn to fall from the bullet. But you have shed so many tears and pleaded so much that I felt sorry for you and I came here to tell you…So say now. Whom do you want me to take with my arrow instead of your brother?”

“Take…take…” whispered the maid and her lips were shaking, “take a Turk”.

The Grim Reaper laughed and the entire church shook from his thunderous horrible laughter. The maid felt shivers down her spine and covered her face.

“Wasn’t it glory that your brother wanted? Glory is rewarded with blood.”

“Take as much Turkish blood as you want…”

“It isn’t rewarded with the blood of the enemy”.

“Oh, dear God!” wailed the maid “you choose then!”

“Fine!” said the Reaper, “Look here”.

He placed in front her a mirror and the maid saw inside the mirror a battle, thousands of fiery rifles shooting, swords that gleamed, horses foaming at the mouth, pulling the black cannons and to the right hundreds of men dressed in khaki, the sign of the crown on their caps and the rifles on their shoulders. Among them she recognised her brother. She let out a scream of pain and covered her face again but the Grim Reaper insisted…