THE BOY FROM THE YELLOW HOUSE Page #2

THE BOY FROM THE YELLOW HOUSE is the most shocking novel ever published in the world, an autobiographical confession after which mankind will never be the same. In copyright meditation of Saša Milivojev, the Boy-witness speaks about unimaginable horror he survived in his own country as a 12 year-old boy: about the Yellow House and camps, about kidnapped civilians and drinking their blood, about smuggling their organs and war crimes, about the most brutal killings and rapes, about incredible sufferings and ethical cleaning, about genocide and secret tombs... The novel “The Boy from the Yellow House” has been built on several narrative levels, simultaneously discovering all pranks in close and actual history, discovering political dilemmas on integrations, territorial integrity protection as well as on identity of one sovereign country; on criminal and corruption, prosecution of the political opponents under the veil of democracy, on terrorist strategies and global jihad expansion... OP

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       When they wrapped the victim in the sheet, and wrapped like that into a thick nylon, Mustache Man opened the door and whistled. Several young men came and brought out a dismembered corpse. I was so scared that I would be the next on the operating table, but I was in scilence and in terrible fear of Baldy who held the gun pointed in my head. Some women came and started to clean the table, to scatter it with some chemicals. One doctor was of the middle height, middle ages and fat. He had bulged belly, redish in his cheeks, with thick black eyebrows and mustache and with terrible eyes. Other one was taller, thinner, bloodless in his face, with huge red nose. They were speaking with Baldy: those were nurse and other medical stuff. I think in that hell of the house, there were fifty of them who were stealing human organs. I remember one black man and one beardy man, mujahedin. Who knows from which countries they all came there. They were running, going in, going out, altering each other... They made some analysis of blood results... Although I then didn't know what those words mean, I am sure they mentioned some components of blood such as bilirubin, hemoglobin, transaminase etc..They were making some deal. Man with mustaches approached me and with his fingers pulled down the skin bellow my eye. He was watching my white of the eye: „Verdhez“.
         „You have jaundice, you son of the bitch! I will burn you alive if you have infected me!“ screamed Baldy pointing the gun towards me.
         „No, please, nooo... Do not kill me, please!“
         He hit me with his fist in the head, broke my nose, pulled my ears! Nosy grabbed his arm and began to defend me: „Take him to hospital. When he is well, bring him back“ - I tried to understand their conversation. We lived together and learnt languages from each other. Since the functions of my organs were quite bad because of acute jaundice and hepatitis, they wanted firstly to heal me and after that to take my organs. Than I left that damned house, with gauze on my nose, taking with me incredible fear of death. After 9 years, I was a bit free of fear, so I started to talk about that. But, it still hurts, very, very much.. They say: time is the great healer. It is not true. Time destroys. I am a ruin now, dusty and buried...
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