Sunday, August 31, 2025

Love Potion or Potion of Shadows?

Can we control the unpredictable nature of love? 


Love potions are a fascinating blend of folklore, chemistry, and cultural psychology. Their history is as rich and layered as any mythic tale, with roots stretching across continents and centuries.

Ancient Origins

Ancient Greece: 
The earliest known love potions, called philtres, were used to stir desire or bind affection. The physician Xenocrates (3rd century BCE) recommended mallow sap for arousing women, while Dioscorides wrote of mandrake root steeped in wine as a seductive aid.

Rome: 
Love potions were sold in the Sabura district, accessible even to common folk. Recipes included aphrodisiac seafood like oysters and cuttlefish. The poet Lucretius was allegedly driven mad by one such potion.

India: 
The Kama Sutra (3rd century BCE) offered instructions for seduction, including playing a reed pipe treated with plant juices to ignite passion.

Islamic Golden Age: 
Avicenna (Ibn Sina) described love brews made of honey, pepper, and ginger. These were part of a broader tradition of erotic manuals like The Perfumed Garden.

Magic, Myth, and Alchemy

Witchcraft & Sorcery: 
In European folklore, witches were often said to concoct love potions using herbs like mandrake, henbane, and satyrion (possibly the orchis plant). These ingredients were believed to have mystical properties due to their anthropomorphic shapes or intoxicating effects.

Alchemy: 
Medieval alchemists saw love potions as part of their quest for transformation—both physical and spiritual. The idea of manipulating emotion through chemistry was deeply tied to the search for the elixir of life.

Sensory Seduction

Egypt, Greece, Rome: 
Fragrances played a huge role in seduction. Botanical oils like jasmine, rose, and patchouli were used in perfumes, massage oils, and ceremonial headdresses.

Modern Aromatherapy: 
Today, essential oils are still used to evoke romantic moods. Scents like ylang ylang and sandalwood stimulate the limbic system, which governs emotion and memory.

Love Potions in Fantasy Literature

A young adult fantasy

A love potion made with haste out of jealousy puts Dorian into a comalike state. A rare orchid that blooms only once a year could save his life, but Liam and his werewolf pack fiercely guard the precious flowers. The acolytes of the coven are forbidden to enter the forest, and the young apprentices volunteer to make the journey that will test their loyalty and courage. Will they succeed?

Read more:

The Potion - Author Erika M Szabo

Friday, August 29, 2025

The impact of teasing and bullying

 

Teasing children about their size, weight, height, or body shape, can have deep and lasting psychological effects. What might seem like a passing comment to an adult can become a defining wound for a child.

Emotional and Psychological Impact

Lowered self-esteem: 

Children often internalize teasing, leading them to feel abnormal, ashamed, or unworthy—even if there's no objective reason to feel that way.

Distorted self-image: 

Remarks like “looks like someone’s getting a belly” or “are you sure you want to eat that?” can warp a child’s perception of their body, regardless of their actual health.

Increased risk of anxiety and depression: 

Repeated teasing—especially from family members—can heighten emotional distress and contribute to long-term mental health issues.

Avoidance behaviors: 

Kids may withdraw from physical activities, social situations, or even school to escape environments where they feel vulnerable.

Behavioral Consequences

Bullying others: 

Some children cope by redirecting their pain, becoming bullies themselves to feel a sense of control.

Disordered eating: 

Shame around food and body image can lead to unhealthy relationships with eating, either restriction or bingeing.

Family Teasing: 

Especially Harmful. Comments from parents or relatives—even if well-intentioned—can be more damaging than peer teasing. Children often view family as their emotional compass, so teasing from loved ones can feel like a betrayal.

What Helps

Affirmation and support: 

Reinforcing that every body is worthy and teasing is never okay.

Open dialogue: 

Encouraging kids to talk about their feelings and experiences.

Modeling healthy behavior: 

Adults should avoid moralizing food or body types and instead promote kindness and self-acceptance.

The story of Lucky, the bullied little monkey

https://books2read.com/u/mdzw2d

Lucky, the sweet-natured little monkey, was teased and bullied by the animals who didn't take time to get to know her. They said she was a dumpy, chunky, silly, scaredy, grumpy, clumsy monkey. Lucky was sad, but when her friend told her that instead of feeling miserable, she should listen to others who knew her and said she was a kind, lovely, cuddly, bubbly, spunky monkey.

More books from Erika

Wednesday, August 27, 2025

Can I Really Read Your Mind?

 Is mind reading possible?


Mind reading, at least in the real-world psychological sense, is less about telepathy and more about decoding subtle cues to understand what someone else might be thinking or feeling. It’s a fascinating blend of empathy, intuition, and cognitive science. Let’s break it down:

What Is Mind Reading?

This is the scientific term for how well we can infer others’ thoughts and emotions based on their behavior, tone, and body language.

A related concept that refers to our ability to understand others’ mental states—like knowing someone is lying or being sarcastic.

Not Telepathy: 
Despite sci-fi portrayals, real mind reading doesn’t involve supernatural powers. It’s about interpreting signals and context.

How We “Read” Minds

Happy faces tend to form a “V” shape (eyebrows and mouth up), while angry ones form an “X” (eyebrows and mouth down).

Lip biting, crossed arms, or a tilted head can reveal hesitation, defensiveness, or curiosity.

Our bodies often react to others before our brains catch up—like feeling uneasy around someone who seems untrustworthy.

Mind Reading:
Thoughts & Intentions “She knows where the cookies are.”
Empathy:
Emotions & Feelings: “She’d feel sad if the cookies were gone.”

When Mind Reading Goes Wrong
In CBT (Cognitive Behavioral Therapy), “mind reading” can refer to a distortion, assuming you know what others think without evidence. This often fuels anxiety or low self-esteem.

In relationships, people may misinterpret their partner’s feelings based on their own emotional biases.

Mind reading in the world of fantasy

I've played with the idea of supernatural abilities such as mind reading, and the result of these line of thoughts is a fascinating story: 

Find the paperback, eBook, and audiobook on the link:
Remi's chest constricted painfully as she struggled to breathe. Rushed to the hospital, she received mysterious treatment due to a medical error, which miraculously stopped the asthma attack and restored her breathing. While she felt healthier than ever before, along with this astonishing recovery came peculiar abilities, and Remi couldn't shake off the sense of foreboding. This miraculous healing may have come at a cost that she wasn't prepared to pay.

Listen to the preview of the audiobook

Scan to see more

Monday, August 25, 2025

Message From the Past

Rovásírás, one of Hungary’s most enigmatic cultural treasures

Rovásirás often called the Old Hungarian script or Székely-Hungarian Rovás, this ancient writing system is a fascinating blend of history, symbolism, and linguistic mystery.

Origins and Evolution
Rovásírás literally means “carved writing,” from the verb róni, meaning “to carve.” It was traditionally etched into wood, stone, or bone.
It likely evolved from the Old Turkic script, with influences from other ancient alphabets like Phoenician and Aramaic.
The script was used by Hungarian tribes before the adoption of Christianity in the 11th century. Once King Stephen I established the Christian kingdom, Latin script became dominant, and rovásírás was gradually marginalized.

Structure and Style
Rovásírás is an alphabetic system, not pictographic or syllabic.
It includes 42 characters, but omits letters like dz, dzs, q, w, y which are rare in Hungarian.
Written right to left, similar to Arabic, which made it easier to carve while holding the writing surface in the left hand.
The characters are angular and squared, optimized for carving rather than penmanship.

Cultural Use and Symbolism
Used by shepherds and villagers well into the medieval period for tallying livestock or marking property.
In Transylvania, especially among the Székely people, it persisted longer and was even taught in schools until the 18th century.
Today, it’s experiencing a revival as a symbol of Hungarian heritage, especially among those interested in folk traditions and national identity.

Modern Relevance
Rovásírás is now encoded in Unicode, making it digitally accessible.
You’ll find it on signs, monuments, and even tattoos among enthusiasts.
Some university students use it as a kind of secret code, and it’s featured in artistic and educational projects.
Rovásírás has made a striking comeback in modern Hungarian culture—not just as a historical curiosity, but as a living symbol of identity, heritage, and even quiet rebellion. Here's how it's being woven into contemporary life:

Public Signage and Place Names
Many towns and villages in Hungary, especially in Székely regions of Transylvania, now display dual-language signs: one in Latin script and one in Rovásírás.
The town of Bugac was the first to officially adopt this practice, sparking a wave of similar signage across the country.
These signs are often seen as a cultural statement, emphasizing Hungarian roots and regional pride.

Education and Youth Culture
Some university students use Rovásírás as a kind of secret code, writing notes or messages in the script to signal insider knowledge or shared identity.
Workshops and summer camps teach children how to read and write in Rovásírás, blending linguistic education with folklore.

Art, Tattoos, and Design
Rovásírás appears in tattoos, jewelry, and graphic design as a symbol of ancestral connection or personal mystique.
Artists incorporate the script into calligraphy, logos, and digital fonts, often pairing it with Hungarian folk motifs.

Political and Ideological Use
Some nationalist groups have adopted Rovásírás as a symbol of cultural purity or resistance to globalization, which has sparked debate about its political implications.
However, many Hungarians embrace it simply as a celebration of heritage, without ideological overtones.

Epic fantasy with bits of historical facts

Book 1

Ilona and Zoltan timetravel to visit the ancestors

“Are we there yet?” Ilona asked teasingly, trying to conceal her anxiety. She knew the answer because the air smelled clean and fresh. Even the stars were brighter. It was dark, but enough light shone from the full moon. She looked around and saw a group of round, tented-looking buildings covered with leather, where small fires burned between them. Ilona remembered seeing pictures like that in a history book; they called those tents Jurtas. The river must have been very close as a light breeze carried the smell of fresh water.

“Yes, we are there. Actually, we are here in the year four hundred and five,” he explained to Ilona.

The lightheadedness was gone, and Ilona’s mind was clear. “Was it any different when you transported Ema?” she asked, feeling better.

“Well, it was as if we fused together for a second, and then we separated. With you, it seemed a little different, though.”

“How was it different?” Ilona asked, feeling the heat rise to her face.

“I had an experience that you might call… kind of... arousing.” He hesitated.

“Oh… I see.” Ilona searched her mind for the right reply. She felt embarrassed and blushed deeply. “For a second, the dizziness was the only sensation, and then it seemed as if we moved through something thick and sticky.” She had to tell a fib; she was too shy to mention that her experience traveling with him was something more personal.

He looked aside and reached for Ilona’s hand as he led her toward a Jurta standing apart from the others. “That’s because you’re not a Traveler, but a passenger, so to speak.” He laughed softly.

The Jurtas were lined up in a semicircle, leaving a wide plaza in the middle. Luckily, no one was in sight. They walked up to a tall and wide wooden pole in the middle of the circle. Ilona fingered the intricate designs carved into it. It was painted with brilliant colors. On top of was a giant carved falcon, standing with wings open wide, as if it was getting ready to take flight.

Ilona tugged at Zoltan’s shirt excitedly and whispered, “I’ve seen this place before! Every time I play my tune, I see this village in my mind or some other place pretty much like this.”

“Really? I always see this kind of place in my mind when I play my birth tune too! And I always see the Turul bird. I think everyone pictures a different place when they play. Mom says she feels like she sits by the Blue Danube in medieval times. Dad’s vision takes him back much further. It is curious that we both see a similar place and time,” Zoltan marveled, following Ilona’s gaze.

“Yes, it is,” Ilona agreed, wondering about the coincidence.

They reached the Jurta that stood a short distance outside of the circle. Zoltan grabbed the small wooden stick hanging on the side of the thick leather door cover, and lightly tapped the round drum hanging next to it.

“Doorbell,” he explained.

“Who art thou?” a pleasant voice sounded from the inside, in ancient Hunor language.

“The Traveler and the Healer are asking permission to enter,” Zoltan answered, in the same melodious mother tongue.

“Come hither.”

Zoltan pulled the thick leather covering aside and urged Ilona forward. Inside, the light was dim and flickering, emanating from oil lamps hanging on the walls of the wide, round room. Zoltan motioned for Ilona to take her shoes off at the entrance. They walked forward on the thick carpet covering the floor. A beautiful, statuesque, dark-haired woman slowly rose from a curved sofa-like piece of furniture. She wore a soft green, delicately decorated calf-length tunic, with loose black trousers. Her hair was braided with soft leather thongs. Ema was standing in the alcove. She shrieked when she saw Ilona and Zoltan and started running towards them but was stopped dead in her tracks by a simple hand gesture from the statuesque woman.

The young woman took a step toward them, “Elana, the Healer, I am called, ready to do thy bidding,” she said, and then looking at Ilona, she used an ancient ritual of submission by getting down on her right knee. That gesture was reserved only in the presence of Royalty. She exposed the left side of her neck by bending her head to the right. With one swift movement, she smoothed her long braids aside and placed her right hand over her heart.

Ilona was stunned and confused, “Why are you greeting me this way?” she asked and looked at Zoltan who appeared as puzzled as she was. He shrugged his shoulders, silently motioning that he had no idea.

“Thus, thine birthright.” Elana uttered.

“But I am not of Royalty, and I am not even sure what being one means,” Ilona replied.

“Are thee not? I say thou art, and if thee chooseth, thee couldst be more. Thy sign speaketh. On thee, the surest sign. Find thee heritage in time, thou will.” She began to stand.

Ilona was stunned. Royal? She thought. How could I be? My parents were regular people, and I only heard about the just and powerful Royals from Rua’s legends. I always thought they were mere fairy tales to entertain children in which the Royals were brave and protected good people. Elza said my birthright was to be a Healer. Why is Elana greeting me like I’m more than that? Frantic thoughts chased each other in her mind. “Please tell me. What is this sign?” Ilona asked, bursting with confused emotions.

“On thy face, thou shall beareth the sign, and thou hast the aura around thee. Accept thou the sign that shall appear when thou knowest thy destiny, as our Seer foretold thee coming.”

 Zoltan stared at Ilona. Elana noticed his confused look, smiled and turned to him. “Thou hast the aura of other sort. May hap someday the sign couldst appear, but not by right of birth. Such fate is for but the Choseth.”

Zoltan was obviously startled but didn’t ask anything.

Ema looked briefly at Elana, “Am I a Royal too, Elana? I have my Hunor mark as well, but mine is blood red, as is customary for everyone else. Ilona’s mark turned maroon on her wrist, and Zoltan’s is the same.” She smiled as she glanced at Zoltan’s arm.

Elana smiled back at her, “Your mark will appear when the time is right, and I will greet you a little differently if the time comes, and when it comes. We will find out in due time. Your future depends on many things yet been decided.”

The alphabet

Sunday, August 24, 2025

About #cats and #dogs

 The differences between cats and dogs

While both cats and dogs use vocalizations, body language, and scent to communicate, the style, intent, and social context behind those signals are wildly different. 

Dogs: The Social Extroverts

Dogs evolved as pack animals, so their communication is geared toward cooperation, hierarchy, and emotional transparency.

Vocalizations:

Barking: Can signal excitement, alertness, fear, or boredom—often loud and persistent.

Whining: A plea for attention or discomfort.

Growling: A warning or defensive signal.

Howling: Pack bonding or response to distant sounds.

Body Language:

Tail wagging: Usually friendly, but a high, stiff wag can mean tension.

Ears back: Submission or friendliness.

Open mouth/panting: Relaxation or stress, depending on context.


Dogs are generally transparent—they want you to know how they feel, and they often seek validation or reassurance.

Cats: The Subtle Strategists

Cats, on the other hand, are solitary hunters by nature. Their communication is more nuanced, often reserved, and highly context-dependent.

Vocalizations:

Meowing: Mostly directed at humans, not other cats. It’s a learned behavior.

Purring: Contentment—or self-soothing during pain.

Hissing/growling: Clear signs of fear or aggression.

Chirping: Excitement or a call to follow.

Body Language:


Slow blink: Trust and affection.

Ears swiveling: Alertness or agitation.

Belly exposure: Trust—but not always an invitation to touch.

Cats are masters of ambiguity. They often communicate in ways that require close observation and interpretation. Their signals can be contradictory—like purring while in pain or showing affection with a gentle bite.

A sweet little story for children

Some of the best stories come from the unlikeliest of friendships!
ENGLISH
HUNGARIAN
GERMAN
Noodles, the kind-hearted dog, always feels sad when his best friend gets him into trouble, mocks him, and only thinks about herself.
Despite Cicada’s naughty behavior, Noodles always forgives her. But can he find it in his heart to forgive her once more after her latest selfish manner?

Saturday, August 23, 2025

Campfire Tales to Make You Shiver

 By Erika M Szabo, David W. Thompson, and R.A. “Doc” Correa

Stories told by the campfire

There's something about the flames of the crackling campfire and the darkness beyond the flickering light that stirs a primal fear within us. As the wind howls through the trees and shadows dance on the forest floor, our imaginations run wild with all the things that could be lurking out there in the night. It's a way to confront our fears in a safe environment, surrounded by friends who are just as spooked.

And sometimes, just sometimes, those chilling stories contain a kernel of truth, a sinister echo of something ancient and malevolent that prowls the woods, refusing to be forgotten...

The campfire crackles, sending sparks spiraling into the inky sky, while its warmth barely holds back the encroaching chill of the night. Beyond the circle of light, the forest is dark, dense, and impenetrable. The wind threads through the branches, producing an eerie howl that sends shivers down our spines, as if the trees were whispering secrets to each other. Shadows leap and twirl on the forest floor, forming shapes that seem almost alive, causing our hearts to race with the thought of unseen creatures lurking just out of sight. We sit huddled close, the orange glow painting our faces, sharing tales that make our skin prickle. Occasionally, a branch snaps in the distance, making us jump and clutch each other tighter, as if that might ward off whatever ancient, malevolent presence that could still wander these woods. Some of those chilling stories we share by the campfire might contain a kernel of truth, a sinister echo of something ancient and evil that prowls the woods, refusing to be forgotten...

The Spider

The sudden discharge of the Colt Python .357 magnum was totally unexpected. The sinister tale being woven by Sheriff Chester Randal and the revolver being fired at the climax of it caused the four men sitting about the campfire to jump to their feet in dismay. After regaining his composure, Sheriff Randal shouts at the shooter, his new deputy Andrew Jenkins, the fifth man on this camping trip, “God damn Andy, what the hell!?”

As Andy flips open the cylinder of his revolver, ejecting the spent cartridge, he replies, “I don’t like spiders!” After inserting a new cartridge into the cylinder and snapping it back in place, Deputy Jenkins walks up to what is left of the tarantula he just obliterated, and kicks it into the fire. Watching the carcass crackle in the flames with satisfaction, he slides his pistol back into its holster.

Grumbling, the other campers return to their places around the campfire. As Andy joins them, the sheriff growls, “Jesus Andy, you could have hit it with a rock or a stick, you didn’t have to nuke the damn thing with that hand cannon!”

Andy glares at him, stating emphatically, “I don’t like spiders!”

Sheriff Randal takes a moment, recalling the conversation he had with his friend on the San Antonio Police Department about his new deputy. After clearing his throat, he says, “Deputy Jenkins, after reading your resume, I couldn’t help wondering why such an accomplished officer, the youngest officer to make detective in that department, would leave the big city police department for a deputy sheriff job in a Podunk Arizona County. I mean, we’re camping in the middle of nowhere, not much here but desert sand, and a few tarantulas, which seem to give you great offense. So, I called an old pal of mine on the SAPD and asked him about you. He was very professional, never said anything negative about you, but what he didn’t say, what he was holding back, that’s what I want to know. So, Andy, tell me what he was holding back.”

“Did he tell you my partner was killed?” Deputy Jenkins asks.

The sheriff replies, “Yes.”

“Did he tell you how my partner died?” asks Andy.

“No,” Sheriff Randal answers.

Andrew Jenkins says, “Did your friend tell you that I was there when Travis, my partner for four years, died?”

“Yes, he told me. Though he didn’t go into detail, he did say that it hit you pretty hard. But that’s to be expected, losing a partner is as bad as losing a wife,” the sheriff tells him, “But damnit, Andy, that doesn’t excuse doing what you just did.”

Andy looks at the faces of the other deputies; he can see a mixture of expressions ranging from sympathy to indifference. Facing the sheriff, Andy says, “So I take it he didn’t tell you what I put in my sworn statement, what I told internal affairs at my debrief.”

Continue reading: https://books2read.com/u/m0L2VP

Old Man Jenkins

The campsite was much as I remembered, although the brush was thicker, and the trails were less well-defined. Today’s youth didn’t keep it beaten down as we once did. There were no video games on the mountain or reception, either.

We were old hands at camp setup, and our skills weren’t as rusty as I feared. With our tents up, sleeping bags rolled out, and the campfire started, we tried our hand at fishing. We didn’t catch anything big enough—except to use for bait. We settled on hotdogs and beans over the fire.

“It’s been a while, guys. Anyone remember whose turn it is for the campfire story?” I asked.

Mac and Smitty turned toward Bear. The man’s eyes shone in the dim light of the crescent moon, and he hunched up his shoulders. His lips curled into a dark smile.

“Sure, I’ll go. I’ll piggyback off the old hiker story. It seems appropriate for where we are. As you know, my dad was the Sheriff then, and I guess I heard a little more about it than most folks.

“Mr. Jenkins was a sprightly old man. He was as narrow as a board but wiry, with thick, work-hardened hands like meat hooks. Dad said he could hold his own in a fight with any man. But he was a hot-tempered soul.  I never heard of him hurting his wife or kids, but the screaming matches coming out of that old cabin were the stuff of legends hereabouts.

“This particular night was no exception. It was so intense that folks clear on the other side of the holler claimed dishes rattled in their cupboards.”

An owl’s sudden: “Whoooo! Hooo! HooHoo!” broke the story’s spell. We looked up at the trees, and the great horned owl’s large yellow eyes glared back at us.

Bear picked up a stick we’d collected for the fire and tossed it at the large bird. It dropped from the tree and swooped low overhead. Its silent wings carried it to its next perch nearby, where it continued its haunting serenade.

“Why did you do that? Isn’t that bad luck?”

“No,” Mac said. “You are mixing up your old wives’ tales. It’s worse. Owls mean death is coming.”

“Now, who is the superstitious one?” I asked.

“Probably just smelled our hot dogs and hoped we’d share,” Bear said. “Still, it is interesting as that was the first thing old man Jenkins heard on his fateful night.”

I glanced at my cell phone, but it had no bars.

“See, old Jenkins,” Bear continued, “he enjoyed a little nip of moonshine now and again. But it didn’t much like him. I don’t know what the cause of the ruckus was that evening, but you can be sure some “corn squeezings” were at the root of the trouble.

“Misses Jenkins, the sweetest lady there ever was, by all accounts, had enough of the old man’s shenanigans. She told him to get out and stay out. Jenkins never knew what was good for him, so he headed up the mountain, bottle in hand. He tried sleeping it off in the old mill but said an owl wouldn’t shut up. Kept him awake most of the night. He passed out in the wee hours only to have a flock of ravens wake him at dawn.

“Jenkins told my dad he knew something wasn’t right. He could feel it in his bones and raced home. The scene when he got there was beyond description. The blood began on the front steps. The floors and walls inside were covered with it. Dad said he’d never seen so much, even at community hog killings. I’d like to tell you they caught the murderer, but it never happened. My dad retired, but it’s the one case he never forgot.”  

I suspect we all had a restless sleep that night. My dreams were unnatural, dark, filled with haunted shadows, and too real by far. A shriek from the river jolted me awake. A woman’s scream of horror, only broken by moments of insane laughter. I slipped on my boots and crept towards the sound.

Peering from behind an old oak, I spied an old woman knee-deep in the water. Her gray hair was greasy and matted to her skeletal head. Her dress was of a style long out of fashion. What was left of it anyway, as it hung from her in tatters. She raised her face to the heavens and screeched again. The sound sent shivers down my back.  She was washing something in the river, and I stretched my neck to see. It was Cathy’s favorite dress—covered in blood! She turned towards me and cackled, then smiled with pointed yellow teeth. She raised one shriveled hand toward me, pointing at me with long, yellow fingernails.

“Death comes for us all,” she said. I woke in my sleeping bag, drenched in sweat.

Continue reading: https://books2read.com/u/m0L2VP

Rosie's Revenge

Jack leaned closer to the fire as its orange glow leapt eagerly onto his face, painting a lively tapestry where the years of his life were etched like well-worn roads. It was one of those nights when retired cops got together with young officers to have fun and to share their stories with them.

“Tell us a story, Jack,” one of the new cops said.

Jack’s eyes sparkled with excitement; he basked in the attention of the eager faces turned toward him, their hungry eyes fixed upon him, like fledglings waiting for their first taste of flight, and their breaths hung suspended in the crisp air, caught in a moment between reality and the world his words would summon.

The fire blazed brightly, embracing them like a cloak of mystery and wonder. Shadows danced across their faces, and Jack basked in their craving for a tale so chilling it might creep into their very dreams and set every nerve alive with fright and intrigue.

“Oh, I have many stories for you,” Jack cried, reveling in their hunger as he rubbed his hands with glee. “There’s the one about The Lurker in the Woods, or maybe you’d like a spine-tingler about The Ghosts of Black Bear Lake?” He paused, drawing out each delicious moment of longing in the pregnant silence, savoring the suspense as any fine craftsman might, until he felt the very air quiver with expectancy that only a bone-chilling story could satisfy. “But I think the best story for tonight,” he said at last, dropping his voice to a whisper, “is the tale of Rose.” His eyes sparkled with promise, and he let the words hover, taking root in each listener’s imagination. “It’s a story,” he continued, wrapping them in mystery, “about a haunted truck stop diner, where Rosie finally had her revenge.”

The group shifted closer, captivated and wide-eyed.

“You see,” Jack said, stretching the suspense like an elastic thread about to snap back, “Rose was a young waitress in that truck stop diner on Route 19 twenty years ago, as full of life and dreams then as you all are now. She was full of life and had a smile for everyone. But fate had a darker plan.” He paused and sighed, allowing the gravity of his words to seep into their imaginations, much like ink spreading on thirsty parchment. “One night, under the cloak of darkness, she was brutally violated and murdered during her night shift,” he continued, his voice barely above a whisper, heavy with the burden of tragedy. “Fred, the old cook, went looking for her because he thought it was taking too long to take out the trash. That’s when he found her mutilated body left carelessly by the dumpsters. Her heart, liver, and kidneys were missing.”

Jack looked around the circle, making sure every face was drawn tight with dread and intrigue. “I was just a young officer back then, green and eager, when they put me on the case. But the investigator,” he said, a note of bitterness creeping in, “he was convinced Fred did it. I knew better.” Jack leaned closer to the fire, feeling the heat of its memory burn as brightly as it did that day. “Everyone knew better,” he repeated. “Although the investigator insisted, there was no evidence that would’ve proven Fred’s guilt.”

“Not long after Rose’s murder,” Jack said, his voice curling like mist in the dark, “the strangest things began to happen in that diner. Chairs scooted across the floor when no one was near them. Music played from the radio that didn’t even have a plug in its socket. Everyone freaked out, and the owner was close to having the diner closed,” he said, and shivered as he recalled the memories. “But we all knew who it was: Rose’s ghost, refusing to leave.”

Continue reading: https://books2read.com/u/m0L2VP

Thursday, August 21, 2025

Do You Feel Lucky?

 Why do we feel lucky?


We tend to consider ourselves lucky when something desirable happens that feels out of our control, as if fate gave us a wink. Luck is often the name we give to the gap between effort and outcome, especially when the outcome exceeds expectations.

When do we feel lucky? When Chance Favors Us

Winning something: 

Avoiding misfortune: 
Missing a car accident by seconds because you stepped back to check the stove or coffee maker, or finding out you dodged a bad investment.

Arriving just as the last seat is available, or meeting someone special by pure coincidence.

When Effort Meets Unexpected Reward:
Getting a job offer after a casual conversation.

Receiving help when you didn’t ask: 
A friend you didn't see for months shows up just when you need them.

Finding something valuable without searching: 
Like stumbling on a rare book or painting at a yard sale, or stumbling upon a dream job advertisement.

When Perspective Shifts

You realize how good you have it compared to what could’ve been. Living in a peaceful country, when watch videos of dying people and starving children in warzones.

Surviving hardship: 
Looking back, you feel lucky to have made it through a long surgery after an accident and you feel lucky that the surgeon was able to save your leg.

Being born into certain circumstances: 
Health, safety, education, things we didn’t choose but benefit from.

Luck is often a story we tell ourselves to make sense of randomness. But it’s also a feeling, a mix of surprise, relief, and joy. Sometimes we say “I’m lucky” not because the odds were in our favor, but because we feel deeply grateful.

Do you feel lucky?

Wednesday, August 20, 2025

Cognitive Overload

 We've entered a new age of reading and writing

The audience for traditional storytelling has undeniably shifted. My social media analytics tell a sobering tale—where once my posts attracted readers spanning from twenty-somethings to retirees, now the engagement comes primarily from those in their fifties and beyond. The younger generations, it seems, have redirected their leisure hours elsewhere, leaving novels to gather digital dust while their parents and grandparents remain the faithful guardians of the written word.

I asked AI why people don't read anymore, and got a sobering answer:

Book reading has declined in many parts of the world, and the reasons are layered and fascinating. Here’s a breakdown of some of the biggest factors:

Digital Distraction

  • Smartphones and social media offer constant stimulation, making long-form reading feel slow by comparison.
  • Short-form content like TikToks, memes, and reels cater to quick dopamine hits, reshaping attention spans.

Cognitive Overload

  • Many people feel mentally exhausted from work, news, and digital noise, leaving less bandwidth for immersive reading.
  • The rise of multitasking culture means fewer people carve out quiet, uninterrupted time for books.

Economic and Lifestyle Shifts

  • Longer work hours, gig economy pressures, and commuting cut into leisure time.
  • Streaming services and podcasts offer passive entertainment that fits into busy lives more easily than active reading.

Changing Media Habits

  • Audiobooks and eBooks have grown, but they often compete with other media rather than replace traditional reading.
  • Algorithmic feeds personalize content so effectively that people rarely seek out books for discovery anymore.

Generational Trends

  • Younger generations often associate reading with schoolwork rather than pleasure.
  • There's also a shift toward interactive storytelling—like video games or fan fiction communities—that offer narrative engagement without traditional books.

Cultural Shifts in Value

  • In some circles, reading is no longer seen as a status symbol or intellectual pursuit—it’s been replaced by other markers of cultural capital like tech fluency or social media savvy.

But here's the twist: while fewer people may be reading books, storytelling itself is thriving. People still crave narrative, meaning, and emotional depth—they just find it in new formats. 

Yet the well of tales within me remains deep and undepleted; perhaps it's time to pour these narratives into vessels better suited for today's thirsting minds to reach those who have abandoned the printed page.

Tuesday, August 12, 2025

Careless Words Said by Women Leave Deep Scars

 Words cut deeper than knives

A woman's words have the power to leave deep wounds more profoundly than knives. Although not every woman says hurtful things, and not all men react the same way, certain expressions can unintentionally—or deliberately—diminish a man's self-confidence, particularly when they touch on societal norms or personal vulnerabilities.

Some phrases that can leave invisible scars:

When a woman says, "You're not as good as you think," it's like watching a balloon deflate. Imagine preparing for an important presentation, feeling confident, only to hear those words from someone whose opinion matters the most. The self-doubt creeps in immediately.

Or consider hearing "Real men don't get emotional about this." In an instant, vulnerability becomes weakness. A man fighting back tears after losing a job might swallow his feelings entirely, believing that showing emotions equals failure.

When she sighs and says, "You're useless around the house," he remembers the proud feeling after he organized the pantry last week, and how she redid everything the next day.

The dismissive "Men are only after one thing" stings particularly when he's spent weeks planning their anniversary, choosing gifts that reflect her interests rather than his own.

Nothing cuts quite like "You're not man enough" words that echo his father's disappointment when he quit football at sixteen. He works to be different, thoughtful, and present to hear "You're just like every other guy" after forgetting one dinner plan.

Even in discussions where he feels passionate and confident, "Your opinion isn't the only one that matters" can silence him completely, especially when delivered with that dismissive eye-roll.

"All men are trash." This broad statement can seem unjust and disheartening, particularly to those striving to be respectful and kind.

Why These Words Are Important

Men often link their self-worth to their abilities, respect, and emotional affirmation.

Cultural norms can sometimes prevent men from showing vulnerability, making it difficult to deal with emotional injuries.

Intent vs. Impact: Even if a remark is intended as humor or a way to vent, it can still have a lasting effect.

Better Alternatives

Rather than making sweeping judgments about who someone is, consider expressing how specific situations affect you:

"When you check your phone while I'm talking, I feel like my words don't matter" creates space for change that "You never listen" doesn't allow.

"The casserole is in the oven, and I’m going to do the laundry. Could you do the dishes and clean the kitchen?" invites a partnership where "You're useless around here" builds resentment.

"I'm struggling with this too and could use your support," opens vulnerability, where "Man up" slams the door shut.

What are your thoughts on this subject?

Next time, we'll discuss hurtful things said by men that leave deep scars in women.

Erika's works span various genres, including historical fantasy, alternate history, urban fantasy, cozy mystery, sweet romance, and supernatural stories

Sunday, August 10, 2025

Fairies Symbolize the Mystical Unknown

 Guardians of the thin veil between worlds


As a young child, I was often (perhaps too often) told by my frustrated mother, "If you don't behave, the Vasorrú bába (Iron-nosed hag, a child-hunting witch, akin to Baba Yaga) will take you away!"

Hungarian fairy lore is rich, mysterious, and deeply entwined with nature and ancient cosmology. The central figure in these legends is the Tündér, a uniquely Hungarian type of fairy whose name evokes shimmering light and illusion.

The Tündér: Hungary’s Ethereal Fairy
Etymology: The word Tündér likely comes from tündöklő (“shining”) or tünékeny (“fleeting”), emphasizing their radiant and elusive nature.
Tündér are described as stunningly beautiful women with delicate features, flowing garments, and wings like butterflies or dragonflies.
They are playful, wise, and emotionally influential—often benevolent, but capable of mischief.

Role in Folklore
Nature Guardians: 
Tündér are protectors of forests, rivers, and mountains. They symbolize the sacredness of nature and the human connection to it.

Otherworldly Realms: 
Legends place them in magical underwater palaces or hidden groves. Some tales say regions like Csallóköz were once populated by fairies.

Guides and Helpers: 
In stories, they often assist lost travelers or reward kindness, reinforcing moral lessons and the value of respect for nature.

Tündér Ilona: The Fairy Queen
One of the most famous figures is Tündér Ilona, a fairy queen known for her beauty and allure. She embodies the archetype of the elf-beautiful woman—seductive, powerful, and not entirely human. Her tales often explore themes of love, transformation, and the tension between mortal and magical worlds.

Related Beings in Hungarian Myth
“Beautiful lady” with witch-like traits; seduces men, kidnaps babies
Vasorrú bába
“Iron-nosed hag”; a child-hunting witch, akin to Baba Yaga
Wandering sorcerer with a magic book; can summon storms or dragons
Shamanic figure who battles dragons and controls weather

Symbolism and Cultural Impact
Fairies in Hungarian legend reflect a worldview where nature is alive, sacred, and morally complex. They’re not just whimsical—they’re reminders of ancient beliefs about balance, respect, and the unseen forces that shape human life.

Fairies in legends are far more complex than the glittery winged sprites of modern children’s tales. Across cultures and centuries, they’ve been feared, revered, and woven into the very fabric of folklore. They’re not just whimsical, they’re reminders of ancient beliefs about balance, respect, and the unseen forces that shape human life. 

Fairies symbolize the mystical unknown, the power of nature, and the thin veil between worlds. They reflect human hopes and fears of the wild, the unseen, and the morally ambiguous. In modern culture, they’ve evolved, but their roots remain tangled in shadow and wonder.

Origins and Cultural Roots
Celtic Mythology: 
Many fairy legends trace back to Celtic beliefs, where faeries were seen as nature spirits or remnants of ancient deities. The Tuatha Dé Danann, a supernatural race in Irish mythology, are often linked to fairy lore.

Christian Influence: 
In medieval Christian tradition, fairies were sometimes viewed as fallen angels—neither good enough for heaven nor bad enough for hell.

Global Analogues: 
Similar beings appear worldwide: gandharvas in Sanskrit texts, jinn in Arabic lore, and lauma in Baltic mythology. These beings often share traits like magical powers, liminality, and moral ambiguity.

Traits and Behaviors:
Nature Spirits: Fairies are often tied to natural places—forests, hills, rivers—and are said to protect or haunt these areas. They’re especially associated with ancient burial mounds and fairy rings.

Tricksters and Guardians: 
Legends warn of fairies leading travelers astray with will-o'-the-wisps or swapping human babies for changelings. Yet they also help with household tasks or offer blessings—if treated respectfully3.

Protective Charms: 
People used charms like iron, four-leaf clovers, and church bells to ward off fairies. Wearing clothes inside out was another common tactic.

Types of Fairies:
Scottish house fairies who help with chores if given offerings
Mischievous winged fairies, often linked to English and American folklore
Nature-bound spirits in American tales, similar to Irish elves
Finnish house fairies brought to America by immigrants

Literary and Artistic Legacy:
Fairies flourished in Renaissance literature and Romantic art, often depicted as ethereal, beautiful beings.
Writers like Edmund Spenser, Charles Perrault, and Hans Christian Andersen helped shape their modern image—though often sanitizing their darker folkloric origins.

Symbolism and Modern Impact:
Fairies symbolize the mystical unknown, the power of nature, and the thin veil between worlds. They reflect human hopes and fears of the wild, the unseen, and the morally ambiguous. In modern culture, they’ve evolved into icons of whimsy, but their roots remain tangled in shadow and wonder.