Aljoša Rodinger, pen name AL Rodinger, is a 21-year-old writer and amateur boxer currently studying history and English literature at the University of Maribor. He was born on 1.7.1999 in Maribor, Slovenia and attended the Rada Robič Elementary School in Limbuš. He began to take interest in the English language from a very early age and by the beginning of his 6th grade was already a fluent speaker of the language. After finishing his elementary school education, he attended the First Grammar School in Maribor as a student of the classics, where he was exposed to a lot of in-depth history, as well as both Latin and ancient Greek. It is there where he began and later on finished writing his book, Killjoys. It is also around this time where he began practicing boxing. After graduating, he enrolled in the University of Maribor as a student of both history and English literature. Currently, he is also employed at the Marbior Slovene National Theatre as an usher. 

“If you can keep your head when all about you are losing theirs and blaming it on you, if you can meet with triumph and disaster and treat those two impostors just the same. Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it, and - which is more - you'll be a man, my son.”

These are the words that start our tale of four friends, their deep and personal friendship and their own coming of ages, where they finally come to terms with their own flaws and manage to find perfection in being imperfect and broken. It is a story about accepting yourself with all of your strengths and weakness, living life with all of its ups and downs, experiencing pain and joy, confronting both your inner demons as well as the people closest to you. 

Our character’s lives are entwined with discrimination, hatred, addiction and death, yet it always seems that there is some resemblance of light, of contempt at the end of the dark and long tunnel before us. We just simply have to find a way to get to it and make our own path.

Killjoys

Arnaldo slowly opened his eyes, as the sound of birds singing greeted his ears when he sat up in his bed and stretched with a smile on his face. 


"Man, did I sleep well. I haven't had a good night's sleep in a long time. It's such a beautiful morning too!" he thought as he grabbed a book from his shelf.


"Ah, Lord Byron. It has been too long since I last read you. Finally, I can have a quiet and peaceful morning. With no distractions. Just me. And a book." 


He rejoiced before his attention shifted from the book and onto Laura, who entered his room with a slam of the door. 


"Yes, sure. Just barge right in. Lord knows that Arnaldo doesn't deserve some privacy or might be sleeping," he sighed as he placed to book back on its shelf.


"You're the one who said to come here, dumbass. Besides, it's not like you ever do anything private. All you do is read those boring books of yours," said Laura as she sat down on the recliner.


"I'll give you your poems in a second. Just let me shower first," he rubbed his eyes and groaned, already dreading the day to come, as he stood up from his bed, grabbed a plain white T-shirt, black yoga pants and white boxers from his wardrobe and left for the bathroom.


When he walked back into his room, he found Laura scrolling on her phone, lazily hanging off the recliner. 


He grabbed a pile of pages on his desk and threw them on her lap. The smile on her face grew and grew as she examined each and every one of them with great detail.


"Don't mention it," said Arnaldo as he reached under his bed and pulled out a wooden box with "øfÆ¬" written on it and slid it open. 


In it was a small porcelain bowl with black opium paste, a bowl made out of redwood and decorated with brass and copper and an opium pipe. He grabbed a pea-sized ball of the dark opium and stuffed it into the bowl. Grabbing a small box of matches from his drawer, he lit it and held the bowl over the flame until the paste began to from bubbles and turn golden.


He opened the window as Laura sat up and looked at him with disapproval, concern and even guilt written on the features of her pale face.


"Arn...Why do you continue to poison yourself?" she asked as he took a long hit from the pipe, the smoke travelling down his throat and into his lungs as he let out a puff.


"Laura," he cut her off as he turned back to her and leant on the window sill. 


"I appreciate your concern, really I do. But if I haven't listened to you the first time, what makes you think I'll listen to you the millionth time?" he said, taking another hit. 


"I'm fine. You shouldn't worry about me. Right now, you should focus on your problems, not mine," Laura sighed and hung her head in defeat.


They chatted for about an hour and listened to music until they heard the sound of the doorbell ringing. 


"That's her!" screamed Maria as she ran down the stairs.


"No running!" screamed Arnaldo as he sprayed deodorant around the room and hid the pipe out of view.


Chapter 10