Mora’s Book Spotlight: showcasing new releases by Croatian authors in English

The Last Witch of Lonjsko Polje by Lea Katarina Gobec (published: September 16th)

Genre: eco-horror
Length: 162 pages
Cover artist: Antonio Filipović Athan (@a.th.a.n)
Tagline: A witch burdened with pain, a woman cursed with a ravenous inheritance.

Description:

“You know your grandfather was the Pannonian Witch, right?”
Stuck making cheap enchantments for her fellow villagers at the edge of the swamp and weekly card games at the local café, Gordana has one final go at changing her fate at the end of her long and miserable life.

“I hope he told you that much.”
The newcomer Monika, a city woman down on her luck, confronted with a threatening inheritance hidden deep in the entangled roots of the old oaks, might be Gordana’s last chance of turning her life around—unless the forest decides against it.

“And I hope he warned you I’m nothing like him.”
At the crossroads of wits and bad choices, nature at its best and at its deadliest, the backdrop of a secluded nature park plays out its own dark role in author Lea Katarina Gobec’s debut eco horror novella The Last Witch of Lonjsko Polje.

Enjoy this perilous trip into hidden parts of modern-day Europe with a special double feature! Included in this edition is The Secret of Mrtvi Kal, a short story about the price of artistry, adoration, and annihilation.

Get the book:

https://books2read.com/u/m0Lo0P

Excerpt:

Monika meets me in the yard and we head to the back. The branches hide the sky and darkness flows between the trunks, drowning the forest in a hostile shadow. Our steps are muffled by decayed leaves propped on top of muddy soil, and my cane does little to aid me. The old oaks tower overhead us like soldiers, carefully following our movements. I wouldn’t be permitted access here if it weren’t for Monika’s presence, and they are aware of that. Jagor instructed them to closely guard his granddaughter, and even though I had been assigned as Monika’s guide, I too am under the watchful eye of the forest. My skin prickles as I notice it is becoming difficult to navigate around the vegetation, as if it is trying to obstruct my sense of direction.

There is something incredibly grave about this woodland, and I can’t stop my body from reacting in panic to it. Monika keeps her pace and advances forward, unaware of the tension that surrounds us. She leaves me behind where I stand surrounded by the looming giants.

I am overwhelmed by the familiar scent of their voice which lingers in the fallen leaves from last fall. It is hushed, just a faint fragrance that is barely distinguishable from rot and wet earth. Words from the past echo beneath my feet and I am subjugated by them like I have never been before. They are screaming in whispers, a painful agony that murmurs around the trees. And one sound prevails, filled with anguish—

Threat.

I put my sleeve against my nose, in an attempt to block out the stench that overpowers my senses. My vision is murky, but slowly comes back as I ingest the acute smell of my clothes drenched in tobacco as I desperately try to get traces of the forest out of my system. I am overcome by the desire to reach for a cigarette stored in the breast pocket of my jacket, but I restrain myself, knowing that I have to keep my composure.

Monika must have noticed I wasn’t following her anymore because she turns and raises her voice, “Are you okay?”

I’m not, but there is nothing she can do to help me. My creaky bones manage to keep me upright, but I feel unsure with my footing. I lean toward the nearest tree and press my palm flat against its ridges.

A strange, soft sensation travels down my nervous system and my brain signals that I have touched something I shouldn’t have.

I push away from the trunk, staring in disbelief at my hand which is covered in a sickly, yellow substance. I turn my head to the tree again and stagger from shock.

How could I have missed this?

I look to the next oak. Then the next. Then the next.

Every single tree, their whole trunks, from the roots to the first branches high above me, are covered with bright, mustard colored spots that pulsate underneath the surface. Thousands of them—maybe even millions—of egg sacs that carry billions of already formed caterpillars, ready to emerge.

And to devour.