Return into the Unknown

By Grozdana Lukic

Join Ornella Moon on a life-changing journey in Return Into the Unknown. When her life is turned upside down, she follows her instincts and sets out to rediscover herself.

Venturing into unknown territory, Ornella encounters both beauty and danger. She bravely embarks on a path without plans or itinerary, discovering her strength and resilience as she meets love in all its different forms and undergoes a powerful process of soul and mind healing.

As Ornella navigates the unknown, she confronts her fears and faces her past, inspiring readers to question their own lives and consider the possibility of finding their lost selves.

With captivating prose and rich imagery, Return Into the Unknown is a tale of self-discovery, resilience, and the transformative power of love.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Release date: Aug 18, 2023
• ISBN: 9781035817849

Grozdana Lukic

Grozdana Lukic comes from Benkovac, Croatia, and in 1997, she embarked on a new life in Melbourne, Australia, alongside her parents and two brothers. After pursuing her studies at RMIT University, where she obtained a degree in Social Science, Grozdana dedicated herself to assisting newly arrived refugees in their resettlement process. In 2017, Grozdana transitioned to a role within the justice system, where she now focuses on case managing complex offenders. Her dedication to this challenging field highlights her commitment to fostering a fair and just society. Supported by her loving husband, Lui, Grozdana finds joy and fulfillment in being a proud mother to her three wonderful children: Milan, Leilani, and Tina.

Book preview

About the Author

Grozdana Lukic comes from Benkovac, Croatia, and in 1997, she embarked on a new life in Melbourne, Australia, alongside her parents and two brothers. After pursuing her studies at RMIT University, where she obtained a degree in Social Science, Grozdana dedicated herself to assisting newly arrived refugees in their resettlement process. In 2017, Grozdana transitioned to a role within the justice system, where she now focuses on case managing complex offenders. Her dedication to this challenging field highlights her commitment to fostering a fair and just society. Supported by her loving husband, Lui, Grozdana finds joy and fulfillment in being a proud mother to her three wonderful children: Milan, Leilani, and Tina.

Dedication

To all those who have embarked on a journey of self-discovery,

To the brave souls seeking their roots amidst the shadows of the past,

To those who have faced the pain of shattered memories,

And to the resilient hearts who dare to embrace the unknown.

This book is dedicated to you.

Copyright Information ©

Grozdana Lukic 2023

The right of Grozdana Lukic to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by the author in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.

Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

ISBN 9781035817832 (Paperback)

ISBN 9781035817849 (ePub e-book)

www.austinmacauley.com

First Published 2023

Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd®

1 Canada Square

Canary Wharf

London

E14 5AA

20240522

May Ornella’s journey inspire and remind you that even in the darkest of times, the strength to reclaim your true identity lies within.

Preface

In the chill of December 1995, at the tender age of twenty, I penned the first words of this novel. Little did I know then, before my journey to Australia in 1997, that those words would mark the beginning of a new chapter in my life. Back then, the notion of venturing to Australia seemed a distant fantasy, beyond the realm of possibility. Yet, reflecting on those words now, I’m inclined to believe in the enchantment of life itself.

In 1995, my existence plunged into the depths of despair. As a refugee in Serbia, my family had fled the horrors of the Croatian civil war, narrowly escaping the clutches of death. It was an era shrouded in darkness, where survival meant losing oneself in the sanctuary of imagination. It was a time when the dreams of my childhood and adolescence crumbled to dust, leaving behind a void of uncertainty and despair.

By February of that year, I had relinquished my aspirations of pursuing higher education, resigning myself to a fate devoid of the freedoms I once envisioned. The path to becoming a lawyer, once illuminated with promise, now faded into obscurity. My dreams morphed into a haunting nightmare, an inescapable labyrinth of disillusionment. As I scribbled away at my novel, amidst the clamour of the tavern where I toiled as a waitress, I inhabited the world of my protagonist—a world where the life I yearned for danced tantalizingly out of reach.

It was during my stint as a waitress near a bustling soccer stadium in Belgrade that fate intervened. In the midst of the chaos, I encountered someone who would ignite the spark of inspiration for my tale. Though fictional, my story draws from the tapestry of reality, woven from the threads of history. The narrative takes root in the events of August 4, 1995, when the Croatian army launched Operation Storm, reclaiming territories seized by rebel Croatian Serbs in 1991.

In the aftermath of Operation Storm, a tide of displaced ethnic Serbs flooded towards Bosnia and Serbia, fleeing the wreckage of their ancestral homes. Among them, I too sought refuge, my family clinging to the frayed threads of survival. Through the thin veil of connections, we secured shelter in a cramped village dwelling, five souls crammed into a solitary room, grappling with the uncertainty of our future.

At twenty, brimming with vitality and restless energy, I found idleness intolerable. Desperate for purpose, I scoured Belgrade for employment, eventually securing a position as a waitress—a meagre wage of what would now equate to a mere hundred Australian dollars a month. Yet, even amidst the drudgery of my toil, the opportunity to engage with the world beyond the confines of our plight offered a sliver of solace.

One fateful day, amidst the bustle of the restaurant, my gaze alighted upon a group of Roma children, their plaintive pleas a haunting echo amidst the clamour. Among them, a solitary figure caught my eye—a frail, blond-haired boy cloaked in an army jacket. Curiosity piqued, I beckoned him forth, and thus began my encounter with Aleksandar.

His tale unfolded in solemn brevity—his father lost to the horrors of war, his mother slain in flight, leaving him to navigate the tumult of survival under the wing of his paternal uncle. Yet, safety proved elusive, as fate consigned him to the unforgiving embrace of an orphanage, a sanctuary for forsaken souls. Moved by his plight, I extended a hand of compassion, inviting him to share in my scant provisions and the meagre fruits of my labour.

Day by day, Aleksandar returned, his presence a beacon of companionship amidst the shadows of adversity. Bound by shared roots in Croatia, yet diverging paths of fortune, our bond deepened, transcending the boundaries of circumstance. In the crucible of our shared struggles, a friendship blossomed, offering solace amid the harsh realities of our fractured world.

One day, I extended an invitation to Aleksandar, urging him to accompany me to my family’s village. Despite my hopes of providing him solace amidst familiar surroundings, his demeanour remained sombre and withdrawn. As we journeyed back on the bus, his silence spoke volumes, hinting at deeper troubles that lay beneath the surface. Though only twenty, I sensed a weighty burden upon his young shoulders, a burden for which I possessed no remedy.

With the passage of time, I observed a troubling transformation in Aleksandar. No longer the carefree child I once knew, he withdrew into a shell of solitude, his eyes devoid of their former spark. A year into our acquaintance, I was alarmed to discover him purchasing cigarettes, a habit ill-suited for his tender age. Despite my admonitions, his descent into despondency continued unabated, his spirit crushed beneath the weight of unseen burdens.

I endeavoured to offer what guidance I could, assuming the role of an elder sibling, yet my efforts proved futile against the tide of his despair. His soul seemed to wither, burdened by sorrows beyond his years, his once-bright dreams eclipsed by the shadows of his past. He spoke little of Croatia or his family, his world reduced to a solitary existence devoid of warmth or companionship.

Then, one day, Aleksandar vanished from sight, leaving behind a void that echoed with unanswered questions. Desperate for news, I sought out the familiar haunts he once frequented, only to be met with whispers of tragedy. A fellow urchin recounted a harrowing tale—a chance encounter with a stranger, a violent altercation, and Aleksandar left battered and broken, his fate uncertain as he lay in the throes of a hospital bed, his fragile existence hanging in the balance.

In the weeks following, I secured a job closer to my residence, bidding farewell to the area where Aleksandar’s fate remained shrouded in mystery. The news of his ordeal left me reeling with a potent mix of sorrow and indignation. A casualty of circumstance, he stood little chance against the unforgiving tides of fate that swept him into oblivion.

My anger and grief found solace in the act of writing, a refuge from the tumultuous world outside—a world marred by the recurring spectre of war. From my earliest days, the shadows of conflict loomed large, casting a pall over my formative years. The outbreak of war in my adolescence brought not shock, but a profound sense of resignation.

As I penned the pages of my novel, an uncanny synchronicity unfolded, unbeknownst to me at the time. My elder brother, in a desperate bid for a new beginning, had petitioned the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees for resettlement. Our family, stripped of all worldly possessions, clung to the hope of a fresh start, even as our homeland lay ravaged by strife.

In the early months of 1997, a call arrived from the UNHCR, beckoning my father to an interview—an interview that would alter the course of our lives. Yet, uncertainty shrouded our future destination. Would it be the United States, Canada, New Zealand—or some distant land beyond our imagining?

For my father, the prospect of uprooting to a foreign land loomed daunting—a land where language would be a barrier and faces unfamiliar. His heart ached for the land he once called home, a land now scarred by tragedy.

In contrast, my siblings and I brimmed with anticipation, eagerly awaiting the next chapter in our odyssey. The call came as anticipated—we were bound for Melbourne, Australia, armed with permanent visas that promised a new beginning on distant shores.

In Australia, the promise of citizenship within two years echoed through my mind like a reverberating drumbeat, shaking loose the cobwebs of disbelief. It was as if the fictional world I had crafted in my novel had suddenly materialized into reality. On that fateful 20th of March in 1997, Melbourne International Airport became the threshold to a new chapter in my life.

But the transition was far from seamless. We had to relinquish the familiar embrace of our homeland and embrace the uncertain embrace of a foreign land. To those we encountered in this new world, we may have appeared as empty vessels, yet within us lay the weight of our histories and the richness of our experiences.

In the foreign expanse, at the tender age of 21, I resolved to test the boundaries of my existence, to stake my claim to happiness and prosperity. As the years unfurled and I navigated the milestones of adulthood, the spectre of my novel loomed ever-present. Should I translate it into English? Should I seek publication? Doubt cast its shadow, and I hesitated to seize the opportunity.

Then, in September of 2022, the idea resurfaced like a long-forgotten melody. I unearthed the handwritten manuscript, hidden away in some forgotten corner, and began to read. In those pages, I found myself transported back 27 years, to a time when the ink flowed freely and the wounds of war were still raw. If not now, I reasoned, then when?

Though the war in my homeland had ceased in August of 1995, its echoes reverberated through my consciousness, colouring every facet of my new life. The novel I had penned, a work of fiction, bore the weight of truth, a testament to the indomitable spirit of a people torn asunder by conflict.

This book is a tribute to my beloved Yugoslavia, a land of milk and honey from which I was forcibly exiled—a land that resides not only in the annals of history but in the depths of my soul, a beacon of remembrance and longing for as long as I draw breath.

Chapter I

Early August 1995 in Northern

Dalmatia, Croatia

The war raged on with relentless fury, its destructive force echoing through the mountains with each deafening explosion. The once steadfast grey rocks, worn by time and weather, crumbled under the relentless barrage of shelling. Yet, amid the chaos, moments of eerie silence descended, like a fleeting dream that lulls you into a false sense of security before the harsh reality of war returns with a vengeance.

This was no ordinary summer morning. While the world basked in the gentle glow of the morning sun, the air was thick with the acrid scent of destruction. The fragrance of burnt trees, homes, and entire villages hung heavy in the air, a stark reminder of the devastation wrought by conflict. It was a performance unlike any other, unfolding before the eyes of nature itself, yet with no applause to mark its conclusion, for with each act of destruction, a new tragedy began.

Amidst the chaos, there was a haunting beauty to behold. Picture-perfect meadows and valleys, painted in hues of gold and grey, stretched out beneath the towering peaks of the surrounding mountains. These ancient sentinels stood silent witness to the carnage below, their stoic presence a testament to the resilience of nature in the face of human folly.

Yet, amidst the splendour of the landscape, a poignant question lingered in the air: why did these majestic lands remain untouched by the conflict raging within their midst? Were they merely spectators to the suffering of humanity, or guardians of a forgotten peace? Perhaps, it was a punishment for the sins of their ancestors, a never-ending cycle of violence and retribution that plagued the land for generations.

As the sun cast its warm embrace upon the land, it was easy to imagine these mountainous places and small villages as ancient warriors, standing firm against the tide of war. But as the shadows lengthened and the day gave way to night, the truth remained unchanged: the cycle of violence would continue, as it had for countless lifetimes, leaving behind only shattered dreams and broken lives in its wake.

As dawn broke over the rugged landscape, Vesna’s world was shattered by the deafening cacophony of explosions and gunfire. With a jolt of panic, she was roused from uneasy slumber, her instincts screaming of impending danger. Without a moment’s hesitation, she gathered her three children close, their tiny forms a precious burden against the backdrop of chaos.

Through winding paths that snaked over hills and mountains, Vesna urged her family onward, each step fuelled by fear and determination. The weight of uncertainty bore heavily upon her, yet she pressed forward with a mother’s resolve, her only goal to shield her children from the horrors that lurked behind them.

Beneath the harsh glare of the unforgiving sun, Vesna’s brow glistened with cold sweat and tears, her heart heavy with the weight of impending loss. In the distance, the echo of distant memories danced before her eyes, a cruel reminder of the life she once knew, now threatened by the ravages of war.

With Milan cradled in her arms, Vesna navigated the treacherous terrain with careful steps, her every movement a testament to the strength of maternal love. Though his small frame trembled with fear, Milan remained silent, his wide eyes filled with the innocence of youth, yet bearing the weight of a world thrust into turmoil.

Beside her, Igor moved with the agility of youth, his nimble steps a stark contrast to the chaos that surrounded them. Oblivious to the gravity of their situation, he darted ahead with the carefree abandon of childhood, his laughter a fleeting reprieve amidst the chaos.

In their features, Vesna saw echoes of her beloved husband, Nikola, his memory a beacon of strength in their darkest hour. With each passing moment, she drew upon his resilience, his unwavering spirit guiding her through the tumultuous landscape.

As they journeyed onward, Vesna felt a newfound strength awaken within her, her heart pounding with a fierce determination to protect her family at all costs. Though the path ahead was fraught