I had always been fascinated by obscure micronations—those tiny, self-declared nations founded by eccentric dreamers and political idealists. Of all the micronations I’d read about over the years, none captured my imagination quite like Liberland. Nestled on the banks of the Danube between Croatia and Serbia, Liberland was founded just a few years ago by a Czech politician and libertarian activist. He claimed a small parcel of disputed land along the river, planted a flag, and declared it the Free Republic of Liberland.
The idea of starting a new nation from scratch, free from bureaucracy and taxes, resonated with my inner libertarian. I envisioned Liberland as a sort of anarchist utopia, a pioneering community built on freedom and voluntary association. The more I researched, the more obsessed I became. I just had to visit this quirky micronation for myself.
I flew into Belgrade and made my way towards the Croatian border. Liberland was located on the eastern bank of the Danube, but with relations strained between Serbia and Croatia, I would have to enter from the Croatian side.
When I mentioned my plans to visit Liberland at the border checkpoint, the Croatian officials forbid me from entering. They said the land was disputed territory, not recognized by Croatia or Serbia. Undeterred, I resolved to find an alternative route.
After a few weeks exploring the Croatian coast, I hatched a plan. I would approach Liberland from the Danube by boat, evading the border patrols on land. In a small coastal village, I found a fisherman willing to rent me his modest speedboat for the right price. We set off before dawn, skimming across the dark glassy waters with Liberland’s location plugged into the GPS.
As we reached the midpoint of the river, still a few miles from Liberland’s shores, I heard the roar of engine noise gaining on us. Two large Croatian coast guard vessels were barreling towards us at full speed, closing in fast. Adrenaline surged through my veins. I throttled the speedboat to its limits, crashing over the choppy wakes of the larger ships, desperate to reach the micronation first.
The coast guard vessels flanked us on either side, shouting threats and commands to turn back that were lost in the wind. I kept my eyes fixed on Liberland’s shoreline now coming into view. With a burst of speed, I pulled ahead of the coast guard ships and made directly for the steep, wooded banks of Liberland.
My boat skidded onto the shoreline and I leaped out, my feet sinking into marshy earth. I scrambled up the bank and turned to face the dozen or so coast guard officers who had encircled me. Surely I was about to be arrested for crossing illegally into disputed territory. But as I stood there, flag in hand, chest heaving from exertion, the officers did not advance. They merely stared at me silently, their expressions unreadable.
After a long tense moment, one of the officers stepped forward and extended his hand. “Welcome to Liberland,” he said in perfect English, a faint smile on his lips. The other officers broke into applause.
I stood stunned, unable to comprehend what was happening. The coast guard blocking access to Liberland were now welcoming me as if they had been expecting my arrival all along. Dumbstruck, I shakily shook the officer’s hand.
I stood shaking the officer’s hand, unable to mask my confusion. “I don’t understand. You were just chasing me down a moment ago. Now you’re welcoming me here?”
The officer smiled wider. “We just had to be sure of your dedication to Liberland. Consider it an…unconventional immigration test.”
I looked around at the other officers, still applauding, their smiles plastered artificially wide. Something felt off.
The officer gripped my hand tighter, his cheery demeanor unwavering. “Please, allow us to give you a proper welcome.”
He led me away from the shoreline towards a dense copse of trees, the other officers marching in formation behind us. I felt a growing sense of unease at their eerie, cult-like behavior.
We came to a small clearing in the woods, the ground covered in a carpet of autumn leaves. The officers fanned out in a circle around me and the one holding my hand pointed down at the ground.
“This is why we guard Liberland so…enthusiastically,” he said.
Etched into the bare earth was an enormous symbol - a stylized owl with wings spread, encircled by an ouroboros snake. The image radiated a sinister energy, dredging up primordial fears from my subconscious mind.
The officer released my hand and backed away to join the others. They started chanting in a language I didn’t recognize, their voices ringing through the forest.
I stood paralyzed, watching as the symbol seemed to glow and pulse as if alive. What reality was this? What had I gotten myself into?
The chanting stopped abruptly. Heavy footsteps crunched through the leaves and a tall figure emerged from the trees. He wore an elaborate black cloak and a grinning plague doctor mask. Extending his gloved hand, his muffled voice boomed, “Welcome to Liberland, friend. We are so pleased you could join us.”
I hesitantly shook his hand, my mind reeling.
“I am Vasilije, First President of Liberland,” he proclaimed with a slight bow. “We have waited long for one such as you who understands our noble vision.”
I stared around wildly at the silent officers. “What is this? What’s happening?” I stammered.
Vasilije placed a hand on my shoulder. “To build our perfect society, certain…sacrifices must be made. But fear not, you will play an important role here.” His icy blue eyes glinted from behind the mask.
I pulled away, glancing around for an escape route, but the officers had blocked every path. Vasilije gripped my shoulders, his voice dropped to a sinister whisper.
“You have seen what you ought not. There is but one way forward. You must remain in Liberland, forevermore.”
I opened my mouth to protest but no words came out. A nightmare was unfolding around me. These zealots would never let me leave this twisted micronation alive.
Vasilije reached up and slowly removed the grinning plague doctor mask, revealing the face of a surprisingly ordinary looking middle-aged man.
“Apologies for the theatrical disguises,” he said. “They’re merely precautions to protect my true identity while constructing our perfect society here.”
I was too shocked to respond, my mind still reeling from the bizarre occult ritual.
Vasilije continued, “Now you have seen the truth of Liberland with your own eyes. To become a full citizen, there is but one final initiation. You must prove your commitment by making a sacrifice.”
Two officers dragged a blindfolded woman from the bushes and forced her to her knees before me. As they removed the blindfold, I gasped in horror. It was my mother!
“To demonstrate your loyalty, you must end the life of a loved one,” Vasilije intoned, that eerie smile returning.
I lunged toward my mother but was seized by the officers. “You’re insane!” I shouted. “This is murder!”
Vasilije shook his head. “It is an offering to our great deity, necessary for Liberland’s destiny.” He pressed a pistol into my hand. “Go on, do what must be done. It is the only way.”
Visibly trembling, I let the weapon fall to the ground. “Never. This is evil. Let us go!”
The smile vanished from Vasilije’s face, replaced by a look of cold rage. He stepped forward, snatched up the gun and pointed it at my mother’s head.
“Then you have failed the test,” he snarled, pulling the trigger. The gunshot echoed through the forest.
My mother’s body collapsed lifeless before me. My world spun into darkness as I was struck from behind and lost consciousness.
I awoke some time later, being dragged from a boat onto a rocky beach, my hands bound behind my back. Croatian police officers cut me loose and processed me quietly. They asked no questions about Liberland.
My mother’s murder had been covered up. Lacking proof, I kept silent about the horrific events on the island, desperate to escape Croatia.
Six months after getting back to the UK, I received a cryptic invitation in the mail to attend Liberland’s Eighth Annual Anniversary Convention.