Why did early settlers name the Catskills the Land of Falling Stars

 A misinterpretation of Dutch words related to waterfalls

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Early settlers called the Catskills the “Land of Falling Stars” because the region was known for its waterfalls, not meteors. The term comes from the old Dutch place‑name Potick, meaning “water fall.” This name was originally applied to the rapids in the Catskill Creek near Wolcott Mills and later extended to the surrounding area. Over time, settlers unfamiliar with Dutch etymology misunderstood or reinterpreted these names, leading to poetic descriptions like “Land of Falling Stars,” which likely referred to the dramatic appearance of cascading water rather than celestial events. 

Why early settlers used names like “Land of Falling Stars”

The Catskills were settled by people who were:

Dutch‑speaking (17th century)

English‑speaking (18th century)

Often unfamiliar with each other’s languages, dialects, and place‑name origins

This created a perfect environment for:

Misheard translations

Folk etymologies

Romantic reinterpretations of Native and Dutch names

“Land of Falling Stars” almost certainly came from:

A misinterpretation of Dutch words related to waterfalls

(e.g., padtak, padtic, potik, potic — all variants meaning waterfall or rapids)

The Catskills’ dramatic cascading streams, which settlers described as “falling water,” “falling lights,” or “falling stars” in letters and journals

A tendency among later 18th–19th century writers to romanticize the region, turning literal descriptions into poetic ones.

So the phrase wasn’t about meteors — it was about waterfalls that looked like streaks of white light.

Why these names matter

Early Catskill names are a blend of:

Native languages (Lenape, Mahican)

Dutch colonial terms

English reinterpretations

19th‑century romanticism

That’s how a simple waterfall name could evolve into something as poetic as “Land of Falling Stars.”

Here are a few Catskill place‑name stories you might enjoy

Core Catskills (Greene County & Ulster County)

Catskill

Not from “cats”

Likely from Dutch Kaaterskill meaning “wildcat creek”

“Kill” = creek

“Kaaters” = bobcats or mountain lions, which were common in the region

Kaaterskill Clove

“Clove” = Dutch for cleft or gorge

Early travelers described it as “sublime,” “terrible,” and “a place where the mountains fall upon one another”

One of the most dramatic gorges in the Northeast.

Kaaterskill Falls

Origin: Dutch

Meaning: “Wildcat Creek Falls”

The name predates the Hudson River School painters.

Shandaken

Probably from a Lenape word meaning “rapid waters” or “land of hemlocks”

Early settlers spelled it dozens of ways: Shandaken, Shandakenne, Shandakenkill, Shandakenburgh

Windham

Originally “Batavia,” then “Windham” after the Connecticut town

Settlers said the mountaintops were “wind‑hewn,” which may have reinforced the name

Hunter

Origin: English

Named for: John Hunter, landowner.

Tannersville

Origin: English

Meaning: “Town of tanners”

Notes: Named for the leather‑tanning industry.

Haines Falls

Origin: English

Named for: The Haines family, early settlers.

Palenville

Origin: English

Named for: The Palen family, mill owners..

Prattsville

Origin: English

Named for: Zadock Pratt, tanner and U.S. Congressman.

Jewett

Origin: English

Named for: Freeborn G. Jewett, NY Supreme Court judge.

Northern Catskills (Greene County)

Potic / Potic Falls

From the Mahican or Dutch root meaning “waterfall”

Early English settlers misheard it as “potic,” “poticus,” or “potic creek”

Later writers embellished it into “falling stars” because the water “fell in shining threads”

Cairo

Origin: English

Pronounced locally: KAY‑ro

Named after: Cairo, Egypt (part of a 19th‑century trend).

Acra / South Acra / Oak Hill

Origin: Dutch

Meaning: Possibly from acker = “field.”

Round Top

Origin: English

Meaning: Descriptive of the mountain’s shape.

East Durham

Origin: English

Named after: Durham, England.

Southern Catskills (Ulster County)

Shandaken

Origin: Lenape

Meaning: “Rapid waters” or “land of hemlocks.”

Phoenicia

Origin: Classical revival

Named after: Ancient Phoenicia.

Woodstock

Origin: English

Meaning: “Town in the woods”

Notes: Not the site of the 1969 festival.

Boiceville

Origin: English

Named for: The Boice family.

Olive / Olivebridge

Origin: English

Meaning: Possibly symbolic (olive branch = peace).

Big Indian

Origin: Folklore

Named for: A legendary Lenape man nicknamed “Big Indian.”

Pine Hill

Origin: English

Meaning: Descriptive.

Western Catskills (Delaware County)

Delhi

Origin: English

Pronounced locally: DEL‑high

Named after: Delhi, India.

Margaretville

Origin: English

Named for: Margaret Lewis Livingston.

Roxbury

Origin: English

Meaning: “Rocky borough.”

Andes

Origin: Classical revival

Named after: The Andes Mountains.

Halcott

Origin: English

Named for: George W. Halcott.

Fleischmanns

Origin: German‑American

Named for: The Fleischmann family (yeast magnates).

Eastern Catskills / Hudson Valley Edge

Saugerties

Origin: Dutch

Meaning: Possibly “Little sawyer’s place” (sawyer = woodcutter).

Esopus

Origin: Lenape

Meaning: “Small river” or “place of the high banks.”

Kerhonkson

Origin: Lenape

Meaning: “At the pine tree” or “place of the hornbeam.”

Wawarsing

Origin: Lenape

Meaning: “Where the streams wind.”

Accord

Origin: English

Meaning: “Agreement”

Notes: Named after a dispute was finally settled.

Native (Lenape/Mahican) Roots You’ll See Repeated

These elements appear across many Catskill names:

Kill — Dutch for “creek”

Clove — Dutch for “cleft” or “gorge”

Potic / Poticus — “Waterfall”

Waw / Wah / Wa — “Winding” or “round”

‑ink / ‑ing — “Place of”

‑aken / ‑akenne — “Land of” or “waters of”

What is the origin of your town's name?

https://www.authorerikamszabo.com

Erika M Szabo is known for her diverse range of writings, which span historical fantasy, magical realism, cozy mysteries, sweet romance, and children's literature. Her writing style is both expressive and insightful, transporting readers into the depths of the characters' emotions.

Lemme See That #6

 Sneak peek into a children's book

Part 6 of why sneak peeks are important

Read part 1 here

Read part 2 here

Read part 3 here

Read part 4 here

Read part 5 here

6. Anticipation:

The emotional “hook” that keeps readers coming back

A good sneak peek plants a seed.

Readers start imagining possibilities, predicting outcomes, and forming attachments.

A children's book in 3 languages

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Noodles, the sausage dog, and Cicada the cat enjoy living together with their human owners. But from time to time, Cicada's mischievous side takes over. One day, Cicada is woken by the sound of their owners having a gathering in the garden. Cicada wanders into the kitchen and is met by a delightful smell. Hotdogs! She calls Noodles, but then her naughty side kicks in, and she can't resist the temptation. She hops up onto the counter, leaving poor Noodles stranded on the floor, unable to reach the delicious hot dogs. Is Cicada selfish and gobbles up all the food by herself, or will she share it with Noodles?

Why did they name the cat Cicada? Find out...

https://books2read.com/u/38JDwO

Nudeln war sehr verärgert darüber, dass Zikade, die gefräßig Katze, ihn immer wieder in Schwierigkeiten brachte, sich über ihn lustig machte und eigennützig war.

Der gutherzige, sanfte Hund hatte seinem Freund den Unfug immer verziehen, aber würde er ihm jetzt wieder verzeihen?

https://books2read.com/u/3yMPev

Nudlinak nagyon rosszul esik, hogy Kabóca, a pákosztos macska, folyton bajba keveri, csúfolja, és önzően viselkedik vele. A jólelkű, szelíd természetű kutya mindig elnézi barátja gonoszkásait, de vajon most is megbocsát majd neki?

Csúfolódás, önzőség, barátság és megbocsátás. Ezek mind olyan kihívások és érzések, amelyekkel a gyermekek nap mint nap szembesülnek és küzdenek.

A testvérszerű karakterek, Nudli és Kabóca, egyértelműen szeretik egymást, és tapasztalatokon keresztül megtanulják, hogyan viselkedjenek egymással és hogyan fejezzék ki érzéseiket.

https://www.authorerikamszabo.com

Erika M Szabo is known for her diverse range of writings, which span historical fantasy, magical realism, cozy mysteries, sweet romance, and children's literature. Her writing style is both expressive and insightful, transporting readers into the depths of the characters' emotions.

We Celebrate Mother's Day

 Honoring mothers and motherhood

We celebrate Mother’s Day to honor the love, sacrifices, and influence of mothers, a tradition shaped by both ancient customs and the modern efforts of Anna Jarvis in the early 20th century.

Mother’s Day exists because societies across history have recognized the central role of mothers, but the holiday as we know it today began in the United States. Its modern form was created by Anna Jarvis, who organized the first official Mother’s Day service in 1908 to honor her own mother, Ann Reeves Jarvis, a community activist who worked to support families and promote public health. Jarvis then campaigned for a national holiday, and in 1914, President Woodrow Wilson officially established Mother’s Day on the second Sunday in May. 

Historical Roots:

Ancient traditions: Civilizations like the Greeks and Romans held festivals celebrating mother goddesses such as Rhea and Cybele, linking motherhood with fertility, life, and community. These early rituals helped shape the symbolic meaning of honoring mothers. 

Christian “Mothering Sunday”: 

In medieval Europe, people returned to their “mother church” on the fourth Sunday of Lent, which evolved into a day to honor mothers in Britain. Though distinct, this tradition influenced later celebrations. 

The Modern American Holiday

Ann Reeves Jarvis’s influence: Before the Civil War, she organized Mother’s Day Work Clubs to improve health and support families. After the war, her efforts helped reunite divided communities. 

Anna Jarvis’s mission: 

After her mother’s death in 1905, she sought to create a day of personal appreciation, emphasizing handwritten letters and heartfelt gestures rather than commercial gifts. The first official celebration took place in Grafton, West Virginia, in 1908. 

While the holiday has become commercialized—something Anna Jarvis herself later opposed—its core purpose remains: to acknowledge the profound impact mothers have on families and society.

National recognition: 

By 1914, the holiday had spread across the U.S., leading to Wilson’s proclamation establishing the second Sunday in May as Mother’s Day. 

Why We Celebrate Today

Mother’s Day is now a global celebration dedicated to:

Honoring mothers and motherhood

Recognizing maternal sacrifices and care

Strengthening family bonds

Expressing gratitude, whether through time together, letters, flowers, or simple acts of love.

Every mother is different

https://books2read.com/Bittersweet-Memories-by-Erika-M-Szabo

Not every mother is a happy housewife giving her children a warm home, security, and love. 

In this story, a mother is helplessly lost to addiction but tries to ensure a better life for her newborn daughter. Did she save her precious little girl? Yes, she saved her from a miserable life of an addict. However, life had sad and happy days stored for her. 

Moving from one foster home to another, her life was a revolving door of shattered hopes and disappointments.

As soon as she felt an emotional connection to anyone, the foster kid in her quickly pushed the feeling away. The last thing Elana wanted to do was to get close to someone she would probably never see again. The necessary emotional defense served her well throughout her unpredictable life.

Until she met Luca.

A short excerpt:

On that stormy Christmas Eve twenty-two years ago, a young woman trudged through the unforgivingly cold winds of downtown New York City with a bundle of rags held tightly to her chest. Glass beads of frozen tears clung to the exposed skin of her face. The woman, slightly dazed and clearly distraught, shuffled aimlessly through the snow that clotted the empty sidewalk.

She was uncertain how long she had been pushing her way through the whirling snow, but her raw cheeks were evidence of the stretch of time and the ferocity of the wind. To anyone driving by, she appeared to be just another homeless person: one of the city’s many untouchables caught in the fierce weather, trying to find shelter. They’d give her a callous look and go about their business.

The woman, guided by her numb feet, walked and walked until the dim light of a steeple shone through the flittering blankets of falling snowflakes. Slowly, she approached the steps leading up to the door and stopped.

“I’m so sorry,” she sobbed, lightly rocking the bundle of rags from side to side. “I’m alone, and I have nowhere to go. You’ll be better off without me.” Her soft crying was captured in the air as tufts of tiny ice beads—dissipating clouds of unfathomable despair. They would momentarily hover about her face like a thin mask before being swallowed up by the passing gusts of wind from the barren street.

Slowly, she knelt and set the bundle of rags carefully onto the cathedral step. With warm tears running cold as soon as they leaked down her trembling cheeks, she traced her footsteps back down the street and disappeared into the storm. Never to return.

A few minutes later, a priest of the church stepped out onto the front steps. “Good Lord! It’s cold tonight,” Father Brown, a tall, middle aged man murmured while tossing his long scarf over his shoulder. He shoved his boney hands into the pockets of his long coat and took a moment to silently view the whitewashed buildings with awe. They stood like monolithic snowdrifts, rows of naked windows gleaming with ice, like the eyes of a frozen spider.

Father Brown was on his way to a homeless shelter across town to help with the preparation of Christmas Day dinner. Having no family of his own, it brought him more joy to be surrounded by those in need than to be cooped up in the church all night watching old movies on the ancient black and white TV set in his bedroom. Though he rather enjoyed Jimmy Stewart’s performance in the classic film It’s a Wonderful Life, he’d seen the movie at least fifty times by now, and serving the unfortunate souls would be a better use of his time. The smiles on their faces, as warm and inviting as the turkey and mashed potatoes he was lucky enough to serve, was more than he ever could have asked for on this holiest of days. Pulling his hand out of his jacket to check his wristwatch, he realized that if he wanted to catch the late bus to the shelter, he’d have to get a move on.

Hurrying down the church steps, he nearly stumbled. He looked down and saw the bundle of rags resting on the bottom step. At first thought to be trash, the priest sidestepped to walk around the heap of clothing when, suddenly, he heard a weak moan emanating from the bundle of rags, muffled by the layers. Curiously kneeling to get a better look, he nearly screamed when the rags began to shiver and move at his touch.

That’s when he realized something living was wrapped up inside. Fearing the worst, he quickly scooped up the bundle and brought it into the protective walls of the cathedral. Clutching the rag bundle to his chest, he made his way to the nearest pew and slowly set it down, whispering a prayer. Under the glow of various lit candles and assisted by the borrowed white light of the full moon leaking through the stained windows, the priest quickly undid the bundle of cloths.

Lying inside the cocoon of dirty rags was a newborn baby. Still pruned, with dried blood covering her skin and matted hair, her blue eyes rolled listlessly, and dry lips slightly parted to expose purple gums and a swollen tongue.

“Sweet Mother Mary!” Father Brown gasped, reflexively tracing the holy symbol of the cross on his body as he raced his way back to his office. Once inside, his shaking hands grasped the phone on his desk and dialed 9-1-1.

“Yes, I need an ambulance sent to St. Patrick’s Cathedral immediately,” the priest begged, cold sweat breaking out across his forehead. “I have a dying newborn here. Please, hurry!” Abruptly ending the call, he raced back out to the pew and held the baby in his arms. It hurt his soul to look at the child, shriveled and clinging to life, but he forced his eyes to meet hers.

“Don’t worry, little one,” he said, cradling the dying baby tightly in his arms to keep her warm. “God is watching over you now.”

The ambulance arrived at the church not ten minutes later, and the newborn was immediately rushed to a local hospital. The baby was at the brink of death. She was severely dehydrated, and hypothermia had set in, making her breathing shallow and heartbeat slow.

Unable to trace the parents or relatives of the baby, the hospital contacted child services and arranged for the little girl to be placed in foster care, once she was in better health.

Under the watchful care of doctors and nurses, after fighting a series of infections and neonatal abstinence syndrome because of the drugs she was exposed to in the womb, she slowly recovered. The nurses adored the tiny baby and held her in their arms, cooing to her as much as their busy schedule allowed. By the hospital rules her name was Baby Girl, but the nurses named her Elana.

She was cleared by the hospital a little more than three months later and was assigned a social worker and given an official name: Elana Smith.

https://www.authorerikamszabo.com

Erika M Szabo is known for her diverse range of writings, which span historical fantasy, magical realism, cozy mysteries, sweet romance, and children's literature. Her writing style is both expressive and insightful, transporting readers into the depths of the characters' emotions.

Lemme See That #5

 Sneak peek into an epic fantasy series

Part 5 of why sneak peeks are important

Read part 1 here

Read part 2 here

Read part 3 here

Read part 4 here

5. Low‑pressure engagement:

Readers can enjoy part of the book without commitment.

A full book is a big-time investment.

A chapter is a small, safe step.

That makes readers more willing to click, explore, and share.

The Ancestors' Secrets series

 

 https://books2read.com/Protected-by-the-Falcon-by-Erika-M-Szabo

https://books2read.com/Chosen-by-the-Sword

Dear Diary,

After breakfast and Prayer, the dreadful thoughts started to affect me more than I could handle. I stood up, tried to shake the sad mood and act normal by walking to the sink where Elza was busy washing the dishes. Pretending first, and then getting caught up in a cheerful mood, usually worked to shake my dire feelings. It was easy for me to fool others and, eventually, I could fool myself to some degree. My pathetic attempt at acting cheerfully was to grab Elza to dance with me to the “Good Morning Starshine” tune on the radio. I tried to touch her hand, again, but she politely pulled away.

“Look who just got her good mood back? The birthday girl!” Elza exclaimed slapping my hands away.

She smiled, although the look in her eyes puzzled me, and her refusal to touch hands for the third time offended me. She looked at me and, for a fleeting second, I had a feeling she was searching for some change in me. Moreover, I thought she was expecting something from me. She blinked and shook her head a little as if she had closed a discussion in her mind. After a few seconds, she was back to normal—loving and steady. It would be so easy to find out what’s bothering her. I thought. If I could only touch her hand, just for a second…

Elza, tried to divert my attention by asking, “Ilona, you never talk about your blood relatives. Don’t you think it’s time to forgive them?”

“Perhaps, but it’s not easy. It hurt me deeply what my uncle did. I didn’t understand why he never visited us when I was a child. My parents avoided the subject, but I overheard you and Rua talking about it. You said, my uncle never forgave my father for marrying my mother, and I never found out what it was that made him object to their marriage. In fact, I have seen him maybe three or four times in my entire life. He had two children whom I know of, but I never met his wife.”

“I remember when he came to your parents’ funeral. Soon after discovering that you were of legal age and your parent’s sole beneficiary, he didn’t even stay for the service.”

“Yes, I was sad, and he seemed infuriated after the lawyer read the will. Those emotions did not allow us to communicate. Later, I never thought about inviting him to visit, and he seemed to have forgotten about me completely. Sadly, I don’t have any memory of him that would make me miss him, even though he is my only living relative. Perhaps I should have called him, but being stupidly stubborn, I did not.”

“You should give him a call sometimes. He might have changed, and his children are grown by now. Perhaps they would like to meet you and keep in touch.”

“I’ll think about it.”

Gypsy, my bear-sized St. Bernard, snapped me out of the sad mood as he stormed through the custom-made doggy door. He plowed into my legs with such force that it made me lose my footing, “Whoa!” I managed to yelp before plopping onto the floor, on my backside. “Ouch… Gypsy, you’re like a bulldozer.”

He wagged his tail happily, pinned me down and licked me all over my face. I could not escape his overwhelming display of love, as he was too strong.

Mirci Catchmousky, our Maine Coon cat, puffed her long hair and hissed at Gypsy from her perch on a low windowsill. Gypsy trotted over to the cat - giving me time to stand up - and gave her a sloppy lick too. It almost knocked the silver-haired cat off the windowsill. Mirci swatted at Gypsy’s head, which made him jump back. He gave out a low, throaty growl. Although I didn’t see any blood, the cat’s sharp claws must have slashed him a little. Gypsy turned, and with a powerful swish of his tail, sent Mirci flying. She knocked over the garbage can and ran from the kitchen, hissing.

“Yes!” I heard Elza’s muted yell and caught her doing a victory dance from the corner of my eye. I looked at her indignantly, and she quickly wiped the grin off her face. Elza had never been fond of my free-spirited cat. She fed her well and adequately cared for her, but Gypsy had always been her favorite.

Gypsy tried to knock me off my feet again, but Elza rescued me by pushing the pail-sized bowl close to him, with her foot. The sound of the metal bowl sliding on the ceramic tile got his attention as Elza poured his breakfast into the bowl, and he started wolfing it down. I cleaned up at the sink, wiping the slobber off my face.

Elza turned to me, “Is Bela coming to help Ema?”

“Last week he said he would help us. I’ll call him a little later, he likes to sleep in.” I informed while I doodled on the countertop with my wet fingers. The dream I had was still bothering me, and I wanted to talk to Elza about it, but I didn’t know how to bring it up.

Elza snapped me out of my thoughts. “He’s been moping around for days,” she said, giving me a half glance.

The idea of talking about my dream immediately took second place in priority. “What’s wrong?” I asked Elza, concerned. “I haven’t talked to him since Friday. He seemed to be fine then.”

“He called while you were working but made me swear not to tell you. He said he’d wait until you had a day off.” Elza offered shrugging her shoulders.

I glanced at her, and again; the fleeting expectation filled her eyes. She turned away and her anticipation pressed on my mind, but I couldn’t figure out what it was. I grabbed the phone and dialed Bela. He answered on the first ring as if he were awaiting my call.

“What’s wrong? I demanded an answer. Elza said you made her swear not to tell me while I was working.”

“Nothing, love, honestly. It’s just a little writer’s block. My publisher is bugging me to finish the book, but I don’t have a single idea in my head. I need your help, but I didn’t want to bother you when you were working,” he confessed, “and I haven’t seen you for days. I missed you.”

“Oh, you big dope, you should have called me,” I complained, twisting the phone cord between my fingers.

 “You said the opening is tomorrow, so I thought we could talk when I came over to help Ema.”

“Thanks for remembering it. Yes, we can talk after we get everything done.”

“I’ll be there in half an hour.” He abruptly hung up on me, without waiting for my reply.

He forgot my birthday! He’d never forgotten before. I felt sadness creeping up on me and I slowly replaced the phone. I went upstairs, changing into my favorite lounging outfit, faded jeans and soft T-Shirt. By the time I was done, I’d heard the familiar sound of Bela’s sports car pulling up to my driveway and I went out to the porch to greet him. He got out of his car, holding Tui, his chocolate Chihuahua. She was yapping excitedly and squirmed in his hands. Gypsy trotted over, and when Bela put Tui down, he licked her from head to tail with one sweep of his huge tongue. Tui growled at him halfheartedly, not appreciating the unexpected bath, but forgave him quickly and reached up to touch her tiny nose to Gypsy’s, that was almost as large as her whole head. She yapped hello to Gypsy and he gave her a low, throaty rumble. The pair vanished into the backyard, Tui in the lead.

Bela hugged me, “Happy birthday to my bestest friend.”

“You didn’t forget!”

“Nope, and you can’t open your present yet.” His mischievous smile prepared me for what was coming, “And remember, you’re always going to be older than me,”

“Yeah, exactly thirty days older!” I blushed.

I couldn’t help it; I had to punch him on the shoulder. He laughed and dove into the back seat of his car and emerged with his laptop and a poorly wrapped package. He put his laptop in the van and carried the box inside as we walked into the kitchen, holding hands, to have coffee and wait for Ema to get ready. 

https://www.authorerikamszabo.com

Erika M Szabo is known for her diverse range of writings, which span historical fantasy, magical realism, cozy mysteries, sweet romance, and children's literature. Her writing style is both expressive and insightful, transporting readers into the depths of the characters' emotions.

Lemme See That #4

 Sneak peek into a dark fiction series

Part 4 of why sneak peeks are important

Read part 1 here

Read part 2 here

Read part 3 here

4. Excitement: the thrill of discovering something early

A preview makes people feel like they’re getting access others don’t have yet.

Take a peek into the "What If?" series

Intriguing, bone-chilling, heartwarming, and thought-provoking short stories by various genre authors.

https://books2read.com/u/b5wDEA

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The Spirit of The Rattlesnake by S. M. Revolinski

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Will You Wait for Me? By Erika M Szabo and Lorraine Carey

Fate gave her one year of happy marriage, but although losing her husband and unborn child devastated Gladys, she'd find a way to live a full life. Will they meet again?

 

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Join Ava Jenson on vacation in her grandmother’s old country when all mysterious events are connected to an ancient legend about a cursed church bell.

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They knew their love was forbidden, but they couldn't help the way they felt. Their love for each other was too strong to ignore.

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Everyone knows how special the Fields Family Farm is. Some say it’s haunted. Some say it’s enchanted. But only those who dare to stay the night really know.

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Milena visits her grandfather in Mexico and wonders why he has a rope with seven knots tied to the door. She finds out soon enough!

J.A.C.K.S. by R. A. “Doc” Correa.

What is a human? According to the cybernetically enhanced officers of the U. S. Army’s Joint Advanced Combat Knowledge System program, they are the only real humans.

She Decided to Be a Vampire by Erika M Szabo

Every kid in town knew that old Mrs. Robbins was a vampire. What they didn’t know and are about to find out, will change their lives forever.

T’is Was The Night by Alan Zacher

This Christmas tale is about a family coming to “terms” with the alleged existence of Mo-Mo, aka, “The Missouri Monster”; aka, their own Bigfoot.

W.I.DG.E.T.S. by R. A. “Doc” Correa

The U. S. Army pursues the technologies “improving” Soldier-Machine Interface for Future Combat Systems. What are the consequences for humans?

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In China, the number four sounds like the word death, making the number highly unlucky. Hua is the fourth child in her family.

Push by David W. Thompson

Leona is a missing mother and Sergeant James is on the hunt. When family secrets are revealed, he must find her, or it will be the cadaver dog's turn.

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After boasting to her twin brothers that she is braver than they are, Emma immediately regrets it. Is proving her courage worth the price she must pay?

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What if you think the known world isn’t strange enough? Embark on a journey that pushes the boundaries, challenges your perception, and questions reason, logic, and established beliefs.

Midnight Murder by Erika M Szabo

Emma’s trust in her psychic abilities solidified and she learned an important lesson about blind trust – even in those who she thought were closest to her.

Unexpected Trip by Lorraine Carey

A teacher faints at an Egyptian exhibit and has a vivid dream in Pompeii during the volcanic eruption. Was it a dream or did she travel through time?

Thy Sister’s Blood by David W. Thompson

Friends on a haunted creek uncover ancient relations. Magic and mystery drive this journey of self-discovery with the enduring power of family.

The Ominous Sound of Stiletto Heels by Erika M Szabo

The sound of Madame Chloe’s red stiletto heels in the hallways would quiet the students and teachers. When she walked by, an icy chill filled the air.

The Way to a Man’s Heart by Shebat Legion

A Siren demonstrates her full vocal range, much to the dismay of a man caught in a trap of his own design.

Shadowman by Erika M Szabo

Their ultimate goal is a brighter future for all humanity. A world free of destruction and chaos.

Careful What You Wish For by David W. Thompson

At last, Victor finds his dream girl! But is it a match made in heaven or a far darker place? Love conquers all... or the dream becomes a nightmare.

Happily Ever After, and After by Shebat Legion

A woman revisits memories that are all too real, or are they? What makes a memory real?

I Love You Forever by Martha Perez

Can their love endure? Nicole, battling cancer, finds hope with Noah. Will they overcome life's challenges and keep their vow to love forever?

Jimmy’s Clown by David W. Thompson

Brothers stick together, and childhood pranks are soon forgotten. But old grudges can fade slowly or swell with age like the nose of a clown.

Eye of the Jaguar by Robert Allen Lupton

An explorer falls onto an altar stone. He wakes to an ancient nightmare of Mayan jaguar worship. Can he save his humanity and return to modern times?

Unsung Heroes y Erika M Szabo

If people knew what the biker gang did and were not expecting any reward or recognition, these unsung heroes would be celebrated by many.

The Prodigal Daughter by R.A. “Doc” Correa

Cassandra Lynn Anderson, a haunted young woman, learns the terrifying truth of her origin.

https://books2read.com/u/mq5qNO

Burdens of Immortality by Erika M Szabo

She didn’t want to live for centuries. All she wanted was one happy life.

The Guest of Honor by E.V. Emmons

A tale of two families: One family’s halcyon life is tragically disrupted, while another plans the perfect Halloween party. Evil is a point of view.

Bitten by R.A. “Doc” Correa

In the days of the Roman Empire, a French peasant and thief learns the true horror of what it means to be bitten.

The Doll That Had It All by Lorraine Carey

A woman finds a spell to restore her youth but awakens a dark force. She must pay the price for meddling with magic. What is she willing to sacrifice?

Demon Child by Erika M Szabo

Lucas couldn’t shake off the feeling that something was wrong. His sister’s once gentle and curious nature had been replaced with outbursts of rage and violence.

Area Code 666 by James Harper

Steve Hyatt’s job, chauffeuring mentally challenged clients to voting booths to swing elections, gets complicated when he receives phone calls from somewhere that should not exist.

Haunting Memories by Erika M Szabo

Spraining his ankle on a stormy night when an oddly familiar stranger helps him home, John’s mind is flooded with long-forgotten memories.

He Watches by David W. Thompson

An ancient creature and an ancient love meet newlyweds John and Evelyn Barrow. Can their love survive Halloween’s heartbreak and a promised destiny?

The Last Resort by Shebat Legion

A grieving woman meets a mysterious stranger and learns a valuable lesson.

An Elder Race by Karen Over

In the mists and moonlight of Halloween, be careful who you mess with. That kid you called a liar just might be telling the truth.

Organs for Sale by Erika M Szabo

After discovering that the Witch’s One Stop Shop is selling organs, a group of kids are struck with fear. In response, Jack decides to become a vegetarian.

Fallen Angel by Martha Perez

Isabella is a fallen angel, paying for her mistakes in hell under the watchful eye of Satan enduring constant torment from creatures and critters. Will she survive?

The Pumpkin’s Curse by Martha Perez

A spine-chilling, suspenseful thriller. Scarlett and Mom have nowhere to hide from the pumpkin’s curse; they’re desperate to stay alive.

Master Brahm’s Studio by Shebat Legion

A master seeks to teach his students valuable lessons, but in the end, who will be the master?

Broomsticks and Chocolate by Robert Allen Lupton

Trick-or-treating, a Halloween tradition, works because its unspoken rules are rigorously observed. If those rules are violated, who’s better to defend Halloween traditions than real witches?

Late Delivery by Erika M Szabo

It’s All Hollow’s Eve, but an inconsiderate last-minute pizza order must be delivered, and Memy Yagen’s legend becomes a chilling reality.

Headless by Karen Over

When it's Halloween along Foxfire Creek, you'd best not roll your eyes about the local haunt. Especially when you're messing with one of Miz Flora's girls.

Fall Market by Victoria Adams

Elenore lives a life in the shadows, hiding from a haunting past. Then one sunny fall day she is seen. 

https://www.authorerikamszabo.com

Erika M Szabo is known for her diverse range of writings, which span historical fantasy, magical realism, cozy mysteries, sweet romance, and children's literature. Her writing style is both expressive and insightful, transporting readers into the depths of the characters' emotions.

Is it "monkey see monkey do" Behavior or Something Else?

 Do they mock me because I speak with an accent?

English is my second language, and I speak with an accent and often wonder why people slow down, over‑enunciate, or change vocabulary when talking to someone with an accent.

I looked into it, and now I have a better understanding of this behavior.

People often talk louder when they hear an accent because their brain interprets the situation as a potential comprehension challenge, and they instinctively try to “fix” it by increasing volume, even though volume isn’t the issue.

It’s usually not that the listener thinks the accented speaker is hard of hearing. Instead, the listener’s brain is trying to reduce its own processing difficulty by altering the communication environment—incorrectly assuming that louder speech will help. It’s similar to how people sometimes talk louder to someone on a bad phone connection. The instinct is to “fix” the communication problem with volume, even when the real issue is clarity, not loudness.

People have learned from media, school, travel, etc. that you’re supposed to slow down or simplify when talking to someone who might not share your native language.

So even without thinking, they fall into that pattern:

Sometimes it’s well‑intentioned.

Sometimes it’s awkward.

Sometimes it’s patronizing.

But it’s almost always automatic.

But why do they try to imitate my accent?

This is fascinating: when people start imitating someone else’s accent, it’s usually not mockery. It’s something much more human and much more automatic.

Why do people sometimes slip into the accent they’re hearing?

This behavior comes from a deep, built‑in social mechanism.

1. The brain is wired for “speech mirroring”

Humans naturally mirror each other’s body language, facial expressions, and even breathing rhythms.

Speech is part of that system.

When you hear someone speak with a different rhythm, melody, or vowel shape, your brain starts subtly adjusting your own speech patterns to match. It’s an unconscious attempt to sync up.

This is called phonetic convergence.

2. Mirroring builds social connection

Matching someone’s speech style is a way of signaling:

“I’m friendly.”

“I’m engaged.”

“We’re on the same team.”

It’s the same instinct that makes people adopt each other’s slang or laugh in the same cadence.

The accent shift is just a more noticeable version of that.

3. Your brain tries to reduce conversational friction

If your brain senses even a small challenge in understanding someone, it may try to “meet them halfway” by adjusting your own speech patterns.

It’s not logical — but it’s instinctive.

4. Accents are contagious

Accents have rhythm, melody, and muscle patterns.

When you hear them, your brain activates the motor areas involved in producing those sounds.

It’s similar to how:

You start tapping your foot when you hear music

You yawn when someone else yawns

You mimic someone’s posture without noticing

Accents trigger the same kind of mimicry.

5. When it goes wrong, it feels embarrassing

Because it’s unconscious, people often don’t realize they’re doing it until it’s already happened.

Then they panic, thinking it looks like mockery even though the intention was connection, not insult.

A simple way to think about it

Your brain is constantly trying to sync with the people around you.

Accents are just another thing it tries to sync with.

I hope you find this interesting, let me know what you think.

https://www.authorerikamszabo.com

Erika M Szabo is known for her diverse range of writings, which span historical fantasy, magical realism, cozy mysteries, sweet romance, and children's literature. Her writing style is both expressive and insightful, transporting readers into the depths of the characters' emotions.