The Whispering Crossroads of Crna Bara

🌑 Setting the Scene

In the marshy village of Crna Bara, nestled between the Drina River and a forgotten forest, there lies a crossroads no one dares cross after sunset. The locals call it Ukrštenje Senki—the Crossing of Shadows. It’s said that the earth beneath it never dries, even in summer, and the wind there speaks in voices not your own.

🩸 The Tale of Vukša the Blacksmith

Long ago, a blacksmith named Vukša lived on the edge of Crna Bara. He was strong, proud, and cursed with a temper that could melt iron. One Sunday night, drunk on plum rakija and rage, he struck his apprentice with a hammer for whispering about the crossroads. The boy fled, bleeding, into the marsh—and was never seen again.

That night, Vukša heard knocking on his forge door. Not pounding. Knocking. Rhythmic. Like nails tapping wood. He opened it to find no one—but the hammer he’d used was missing. In its place lay a bundle of wet reeds tied with black thread.

🌫️ The Curse Unfolds

Each Sunday after, Vukša heard the knocking. Each time, something else vanished: his anvil, his bellows, his dog. Then his voice. He could no longer speak, only wheeze like wind through reeds. Desperate, he went to the village priest, who told him the truth:

“You’ve angered the Večernje Duše—the Evening Souls. They dwell at the crossroads, feeding on guilt and iron. You must return what you took.”

But Vukša had taken a life. And the hammer was gone.

🕷️ The Final Sunday

On the seventh Sunday, Vukša walked to Ukrštenje Senki with a forged iron cross and a bundle of reeds. He buried them at the center of the crossroads and whispered his confession into the mud. The wind stopped. The marsh dried. And Vukša vanished.

Some say he was taken. Others say he became the wind.

🪓 What Remains

To this day, if you stand at the crossroads of Crna Bara on a Sunday night and whisper a secret, the wind will answer. But beware—if your secret is heavy, it may not let you leave.