The Serbian Dancing Lady

The story begins in Serbia, deep in the dead of night— the hour when even

the stray dogs stop wandering and the streets fall unnervingly silent. Locals say this

is when she appears. A lone woman… drifting through empty streets in an old, shredded dress that

flutters even when there’s no wind. Under the flickering street lamps, she dances—slow,

jerky, almost like her body remembers the steps but her bones do not.

From far away, her movements seem almost elegant. But the closer you look,

the more wrong everything feels. Her limbs bend at odd angles. Her feet glide without

sound. And her smile—far too wide, far too still—never shifts,