Showing posts with label #BooksByErika. Show all posts
Showing posts with label #BooksByErika. Show all posts
Thursday, January 6, 2022
Tuesday, November 30, 2021
Thursday, November 25, 2021
Tuesday, November 16, 2021
Hophop's Alphabet Tree
New book by Erika M Szabo
A fun, rhyming picture book for children 2-7
Available in eBook and paperback:
https://books2read.com/Hophops-Alphabet-Tree-by-Erika-M-Szabo
A fun, rhyming picture book for children 2-7
Hophop, the little bunny, is sad because he can't read his book.
"Did you like the book?" Ollie asked Hophop.
"I never learned to read." He sadly sobbed.
"Oh, my. I will teach you!" Ollie sighed and replied.
"Can you really?" Hophop’s smile was bright and wide.
Ollie, the wise owl, shows him the entire alphabet and teaches him to read the fun way.
Armadillos can roll into a tight ball.
Bears eat lots of berries in the fall.
Cats have fun playing hide and seek games.
Hophop, the little bunny, is sad because he can't read his book.
"Did you like the book?" Ollie asked Hophop.
"I never learned to read." He sadly sobbed.
"Oh, my. I will teach you!" Ollie sighed and replied.
"Can you really?" Hophop’s smile was bright and wide.
Ollie, the wise owl, shows him the entire alphabet and teaches him to read the fun way.
Armadillos can roll into a tight ball.
Bears eat lots of berries in the fall.
Cats have fun playing hide and seek games.
Dragons blow steam and sneeze hot flames.
CONTINUE READING:
https://books2read.com/Hophops-Alphabet-Tree-by-Erika-M-Szabo
Books by the Author:
Sunday, June 7, 2020
The Ancestor's Secrets
New revised edition on Amazon
An alternative history fantasy series
Ilona resigns to live the simple life of a
small-town doctor, but her life goes into a tailspin on her birthday. She
finds out she was born into a secretive, ancient clan still hidden among
us. She starts to develop unusual powers which she finds exciting as
well as frightening.
Tuesday, July 23, 2019
Cursed Bloodline: Secrets and Lies
Cursed Bloodline
Romantic suspense with historical elements
Is it possible that an ancient curse
cast by a powerful witch sixteen-hundred years ago could destroy families in every
generation for centuries?
Dark family secrets
separated Sofia and Daniel when they were children, but fate brought them together
years later.
When Sofia’s
brother finds a leather book in his grandmother's secret room that was written
in 426 by a shaman, dark memories of their childhood start to surface.
Reading the ancient
runes, they learn about their family's curse. If it remains unbroken, the curse
will bring tragedy and ruin their lives as it destroyed many of their ancestors'
lives. Could they find the way to break the ancient curse?
“This is the curse of an evil deed that incites and must
bring forth more evil.” ~Johann Friedrich Von
Prologue
Present day
“Wow!” Sofia blurted as they entered the secret room. “You
were right, there are lots of treasures
in here.”
“I looked only in this trunk but look at the shelves.”
Sofia walked to the shelves and touched the carved, wooden
and stone statues one by one. “Look,” she said, “the Sacred Turul. This wood
carving is a masterpiece!”
“Yes, I estimate it to be at least a thousand years old.
Look at this horse.” He pointed at the black onyx statue.
“Magnificent!” Sofia marveled.
“We can look at those later,” Jayden mentioned to Sofia.
“Let’s see if we can find more writing in the trunk.”
“Okay…” Sofia hesitantly replied. She was having a hard time
averting her eyes from rows after rows of statues, jewelry, headdresses adorned
with beads, gold chalices and bowls.
Jayden opened the wooden trunk and started taking out the
items that were wrapped in leather. He pulled the coverings open which revealed
swords, knives, handmade leather shoes, and carefully-wrapped scrolls.
“Jay, look!” Sofia pointed at the inside of the trunk lid.
“There’s an envelope and it doesn’t seem old.”
Jayden grabbed the corner of the white envelope but couldn’t
pull it away. “It seems to be glued to the top,” he stated as he carefully
lifted the corner with a knife and pried it away from the wood without ripping
the paper.
As he turned it he saw writing on the envelope. “For Sofia
and Jayden,” he read out loud. “It’s Grandma’s handwriting and it’s for us.” He
sat down on a box, opened the envelope and pulled out the folded letter. He
started reading it out loud.
Dearest Sofia and
Jayden,
You’re reading this
letter, which means I’m gone. I swore to your mother that I would never tell
you about the family curse, but I cannot take it to my grave. Although your
mother always strongly believed that it is merely a stupid legend and refused
to listen to me, I must let you know somehow. Jayden, your life in danger…
The year 426 in the
Carpathian Basin
As they got close to the trees and peeked out, they saw
disheveled men sitting on the ground around fires. Their savage laughs, as they
were eating and drinking, cut through to their hearts. Elana gasped when she
saw the lifeless bodies of her neighbors thrown to the ground. Zala turned to
Elana and raised his eyebrow, silently asking if she was ready. Her eyes shone
with anger. She nodded and placed an arrow on her bow and pulled the string,
aiming at the head of the loudest bandit who seemed to be the horde’s leader.
Zala whispered, “You have lost the most. You have the right
to revenge.”
Elana let the arrow fly, and it pierced the bandit’s
forehead between his eyes, coming out at the back of his head halfway. His body fell backward, limp and lifeless.
Zala looked at the waiting wolves and motioned them to go
forward. The bandits scrambled to their feet in horror as their leader fell,
and the wolves attacked them. Zala and Elana started riding around them in
circles, aiming and shooting as the men tried to flee. A few slumped to the
ground pierced by arrows, others screamed as the wolves chomped at their hands.
Elana spotted the alpha as he clamped his powerful jaw over
a man’s wrist and with a jerk of his head, bit the hand off. And then Elana froze when she saw her mirror image
looking at her with crazed eyes.
“Tuana!” Elana yelled and urged her horse toward the
disheveled young woman.
Tuana turned her horse and kicked its side, urging the horse
to a gallop. Within seconds they collided. The horses neighed in terror as the
women were thrown off their backs by the
impact. Both women jumped to their feet and faced each other. Elana gave out
the warriors’ battle cry, raised her sword, and thrust it toward Tuana. Elana’s
move was swift, but Tuana was fast as well and leaned out of the way of the
deadly blow. As Tuana jumped back, she looked down with terror in her eyes. A gray wolf standing next to her growled and
dropped Tuana’s hand on the ground; it was still clutching the sword. The wolf
shook the blood from his muzzle, turned,
and ran toward the bushes. Tuana stared at her stump
as it spurted blood on her legs.
Tuana howled like a wounded animal and then gave out an insane
laugh as she held the stump of her arm close to her chest and started backing
away. “I curse you and your descendants! Every woman in your bloodline will
have a daughter like me who will be thrown away like garbage. The daughters
will kill their brothers and leave their sister alive to carry the bloodline.
All mothers for eternity will pay for what your mother did to me.”
Wednesday, July 17, 2019
Partner or Inferior?
Where is the woman's place?
I still hear these opinions, not only from older men but from younger ones as well:
"Women are inferior to men because Eve was made from Adam's ribs, therefore, she belongs to him. Eve doomed humanity by committing a sin which by enticing Adam to eat the apple."
"A woman's brain is incapable of making rational decisions because she can't comprehend to the big picture."
"A woman should focus on raising kids, doing laundry, obey their husbands, and provide clean and comfortable homes for their families."
"We must keep women submissive because with equal rights comes chaos. They need constant reminders that their place is in the home."
"Women don't have the intelligence to make rational decisions because they're too emotional. Men must make decisions for women."
Right! My opinion?
These neanderthals need to hide under their comfy stones and be very, very quiet!
What say you?
We're getting there
Slowly, but with good parenting and setting good examples to our kids, we're getting there.
Example 1:
A salesman calls trying to sell windows. The woman say politely, "Thank you for your call but we're not planning to install new wind..."
The aggressive salesman rudely cuts her off and says, "Is the man of the house home?"
The woman's blood instantly boils but because she's a gentle person, she doesn't reply and hands the phone to her husband,"This bozo is selling windows and wants to talk to you."
The husband takes the phone and says to the salesman, "Listen! My wife is the financial genius in this house. She said no. Good bye!"
Example 2:
A man visits a couple for the first time and as soon as he's introduced to the attractive wife by the husband, he walks up to her attempting to pinch her face and says, "Aren't you a pretty thing!"
The couple's teenage kids watch the interaction.
The woman takes a step back and shouts, "Out! Don't you ever step into this house again!"
The man looks at the husband who opens the door and says to him, "My wife is my partner and you've disrespected her. get out, or I'll throw you out!"
Example 3:
Father and son sitting on a bench in the park. The boy is around twelve, happily licking his ice-cream.
A statuesque woman walks by and the father says to his son, "Nice piece of ass, huh?"
The boy looks at his father with a disgusted expression on his face and replies, "Dad, she's a person. You're an ass!"
Equal partners
It's about time to teach our sons and daughter that this is not a competition. Neither men or women need to prove who's better, smarter, or stronger.Biologically and psychologically men and women have similarities and differences as well. The best thing about this is that we complement each other and able to form a great partnership by mutually accepting and respecting each other.
What is your opinion?
Tuesday, July 9, 2019
The Parrot Who Didn't Speak English
Because he spoke only Spanish
Bilingual children's book for ages 4-12
Pico, the parrot, is sad and frustrated. He screeches and squawks
all day but because he speaks Spanish, nobody understands him. His story teaches
children acceptance, compassion, and helping others.
PREVIEW:
EBOOK:
Amazon print:
B&N print:
More books by Erika M Szabo for children and parents
Wednesday, July 3, 2019
Squint-eyed Woman
When a simple paint job goes wrong
That day the tension was thick as honey in their home. We sat around the coffee table and had a light chat about everyday things. Brian sat close to his father on the couch and acted like a little angel. I felt the brewing tension ready to erupt, and I was frantically searching for an excuse to shorten my visit.
Marie sat across from me with a plotting cat expression and distant smile on her face. Once in a while she darted angry looks at her husband and son that lasted only for a fraction of a second.
When Marie went out to the kitchen to put on coffee, Brian whispered to his father, "Dad, we are in big trouble."
"I know, son! There is nothing more dangerous in the whole world than a squint-eyed woman . You never know if she's going to forgive you, or she's planning your slow and painful death, until she comes to her final decision."
"What happened? What's wrong?" I asked.
"Well, we painted the kitchen while Marie was at work and we got a little carried away. We had such a great time and we even cleaned up by the time she got home, but as soon as she saw it, the silent treatment began. I'm in big trouble." Peter sighed.
I stood up and went out to the kitchen. Marie silently looked at me with murderous look in her eyes, lifted her arm and pointed at the walls that was dark blue with big, yellow stars painted all over it.
Trying to hide a laugh I managed to say, "They meant well Marie, give them some credit for the effort."
"Oh, I will give it to them alright! They will pay for this for a long-long time. I specifically told them vanilla color, and look what they did! I'm gonna... Oh, I'm going to..." she yelled with daggers in her eyes.
"Okay girlfriend, we're going to the movies." Marie opened her mouth to protest, "Go get ready, no objection!" I ordered her firmly, so she turned and went upstairs.
In the living room I told Peter, "I know you meant well, you had your fun too, but now to the store you go to get the vanilla color paint. You will paint the walls and clean up the kitchen by the time we get home. Otherwise, you two will stay in the doghouse for a long time."
The boys looked at each other, they stood up and stormed out the front door.
Marie wasn't a good companion that night. I struggled to get her her mind off her kitchen wall but she just sat there quietly as if she was plotting the punishment of her husband. A few hours later when I drove her home, Peter and little Brian were anxiously waiting in the living room. Marie walked into the kitchen and I was right behind her.
The kitchen was spotless and the walls had a fresh coat of vanilla color paint. The next day, with Marie's approval, they painted Brian's room blue with yellow stars.
Friday, June 14, 2019
Are You a Super-taster? Find Out
Does your tongue turn blue when you eat foods with blue food coloring?
Later I learned why.
Humans are born with the ability to detect five types of taste – sweet, bitter, salty, sour, and umami (of the five basic tastes and is best described as a savory or “meaty” flavor) – though our individual sensitivity to each is determined largely by genetics.
If you write a list of all the foods you like and dislike – and how much you like or dislike each one – you’d end up with an exhaustive list that was completely, uniquely yours. Kind of like fingerprints that changes over time and shaped by culture and family and everything you’ve ever done.
In fact, they tend to change in certain predictable ways as we age. Take sugar, for example. Enjoyment of sweetness is innate – nature’s way of making sure we take in calorie-rich foods – but we tend to enjoy it less as adults than we do as kids. The opposite is true for vegetables, which we tend to like a whole lot more in adulthood than we do in our earliest years.
How can we explain this?
Scientists believe one reason for kids’ love of sugar, for instance, may be that they seek out more calories to fuel their growing bodies, giving them an advantage when food is scarce.
Actually, we shouldn’t like green vegetables at all. Evolution wired us for an aversion to bitter tastes, a trait our ancestors developed to protect themselves against accidental poisoning. The problem with this, of course, is we’ve generally figured out by now which plants will kill us and which won’t, yet the aversion remains – even though plenty of bitter compounds, like those found in vegetables, are actually important sources of nutrition.
Childhood experiences also play a role in our taste preference. Maybe you once saw a family member get sick shortly after eating a certain food and then tripped and hit your head. Those negative impressions were enough to cement an aversion that stays with you.
Even the smallest of experiences, in other words, can shape our food likes and dislikes in ways we don’t even realize – and sometimes these fleeting moments can override culture, evolution, and everything else.
One biological mechanism for why we perceive tastes differently is in our taste buds. Scientists categorize three different groups of people, based on genetics: ‘”super-tasters”, “non-tasters” and “regular tasters”‘.
Are you a super-tater or sun-taster?
To find out, put blue food coloring on your tongue. Blue dye doesn't stick to taste papillae, so if your tongue doesn't get very blue, you're probably a super-taster. The bluer it gets, the greater the chance you are a sub-taster.
Super-tasters are those who have more “papillae” taste receptors, and can taste certain things like bitterness more intensely and often find strong flavors overwhelming. This leads to a higher likelihood of aversion to foods that are bitter, spicy and hot. They add cream to their coffee and order food mild instead of spicy.
Sub-tasters, on the other hand, have low papillae density and prefer their food super hot and super spicy. "More hot sauce please!"
Hope you enjoyed this article and learned something new.
~Erika M Szabo
https://www.authorerikamszabo.com
Click below to find out what I do
Tuesday, June 4, 2019
Where Did The Good Old Fashioned Romance Go?
The good old fashioned romance doesn't seem to be enough anymore...
Perhaps readers are getting bored with regular romance novels? Are readers abandoning the regular romance and more interested in erotica, kinky sex scenes, domination, deviancy and abuse? The more perverse the better?
It really seems like to me, what else could explain the huge interest in these books?
Romance authors usually don’t spell out every single move the lovers make, or every single thought that runs through their head while making love. Romance writers have their clever ways to trigger the reader’s imagination and send tingles to the right places at the right moment. Also, the majority of the books are well edited, the plots are fascinating and they provide hours of great entertainment. Romance authors don’t promote physical and mental abuse, or perverse activity.
However, it seems like some readers want more. The Fifty Shades fans don’t seem to care about bad writing, grammar mistakes, limited vocabulary, or as my friend who read the first book put it, “This book seems like it was written by a sick minded, horny high school dropout teenager. I bet my shoelace has a wider vocabulary, and the story is sick and demeaning, and it justifies physical and mental abuse.”
Are readers getting desensitized and want more excitement than the good old romance novels usually offer?
This made me realize how we became desensitized to horror movies in a relatively short time. When I was a teenager, I always had a pillow in my hands, so I could hide when the scary parts came on, in even mild horror movies. I’m not a big horror fan, but if a movie doesn’t gross me out too much in the first five minutes, and my friends say that the story line is good, I give it a try.
But is the time near when the good old fashioned romance stories will be passé?
Will romance writers be forced to incorporate whips, handcuffs, leather strips and gags into their stories?
Will they have to make their characters scream in pain, bleed and be humiliated in order to meet the expectations?
Well, I'm not a fan of those stories, I'm a hopeless romantic and in my stories, although there is romance, the focus is on the emotions and story-line.
If you like love stories combined with fantasy and don't expect perverse scenes, you might like some of my books.
Happy reading!
Tuesday, May 28, 2019
Do Authors Need a Portfolio?
The portfolio of author Erika M Szabo
Just like every author, I introduce my books on my WEBSITE and on social sites such as FACEBOOK TWITTER and LINKEDIN.
Is it enough? My website is organized and readers can find every book with a click.
But on social sites, which most author is focusing on, the reader have to sift through a lot of posts.
So, I decided to create a condensed, online book that contains the highlights of what I create and what I write.
You can find my portfolio on this link: https://joom.ag/92ca
Hope you will enjoy it!
A few pages from my portfolio:
Tuesday, May 14, 2019
Alone by Erika M Szabo
A thought-provoking, futuristic, romantic short story
Will people feel the emotions of loss in the future as
deeply as we do today?
How far will they be willing to go in finding the happiness
they lost?
Caleb lost his Valerie. Will he find her?
A short snippet from the book:
“How could I do this alone, Val?” Caleb reached out and
gently traced the name, Valerie Taylor,
carved into the white marble headstone, with his fingers. “We were meant to be
together until we grew old.”
As he had done every week since she passed, he sat down in
front of the gravestone. Leukemia had taken her from him, moving so much faster
than either of them could ever have imagined possible. All the plans they’d had
for what was going to come meant nothing. She was gone.
Caleb sighed to ease the heaviness in his chest and looked
up at the tree covered with flowers, close to the grave. “We had studied here
when we were young. But always loved this magnolia tree. That’s why your
parents chose this secluded spot to… Oh, Val. I miss you so much!”
More than once, over the past four years, he’d been told he
was young and there would be someone else in his life. He’d love someone, to fill
the void, but nobody understood what it was like to find a true soulmate. “I
miss you, every day, and I keep trying to push myself to keep going, but there
have been so many times when I’ve thought about just ending it all. I know I
shouldn’t. You would never forgive me if I’d throw my life away, but you were
my life, and…” He took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I know every time I come here
it seems like I say the same thing. I want things to be different, but without
you here, there’s no happiness in my heart.”
I write speculative alternate history fiction, romantic
urban fantasy, historical suspense novels as well as fun, educational, and
bilingual books for children ages 2-14 about acceptance, friendship, family,
and moral values such as accepting people with disabilities, dealing with
bullies, and not judging others before getting to know them. I also like to encourage
children to use their imagination and daydream about fantasy worlds.
Wednesday, April 10, 2019
The Pesky Rules #1
Learning the English language rules is not easy!
Oh, the joy of learning English!
In March I shared my cheat-sheet about the pesky comma.
I learned English as an adult and the comma became my worst nightmare when I started writing.
Where it's needed and don't need it?
I rely on the editors to catch my mistakes, but I really should use my cheat-sheet more often. I bet my editor would have fewer headaches.
Where it's needed and don't need it?
I rely on the editors to catch my mistakes, but I really should use my cheat-sheet more often. I bet my editor would have fewer headaches.
I will continue sharing my cheat-sheet next week about the use of the pesky comma.
But this week let's talk about some of the pesky rules:
Normally, an apostrophe symbolizes possession: "I took Mandy's purse."
Apostrophes can also replace omitted letters: "I don't, I can't."
When used as a possessive pronoun: "The dog had a toy. I took its toy."
For the shortened version of "it is" use the version with the apostrophe: "It's raining outside."
Fewer or less?
We use "fewer" when discussing something countable: "Fewer than ten people saw the flying object."
We use "less" for intangible concepts: "I spent less than one hour coloring the picture."
Dangling modifiers
These are ambiguous, adjectival clauses at the beginning or end of sentences that often don't modify the right word or phrase:
"Rotting in the pantry, our Mandy threw the onions in the garbage." The structure of this sentence implies that Mandy is a zombie rotting in the pantry.
But when you place the modifying clause right next to the word or phrase it intends to describe:
"Mandy, threw the onions, rotting in the pantry, in the garbage." Then we know the onions went bad in the pantry and not Mandy.
Me, myself, or I?
Me and I always function. as the object.
"My friend and I went to lunch."
"Sara asked Betty and me to go hiking."
"I ate five apples."
When you've referred to yourself earlier in the sentence: "I made myself breakfast."
Who or whom?
It's not always easy to tell subjects from objects but to use an over-simplified yet good, general rule: subjects start sentences (or clauses), and objects end them.
"Who is a bully?"
"Careful whom you call a bully."
Lie or lay?
This is a pretty confusing rule:
The word "lay" must have an object, so we don't say: "I'm going to go lay down." Someone lays something somewhere: "Mandy lays her pen on the table."
You lie. Unless you lay, which means lie but in the past tense:
Present Past
Lie Lie Lay
Lay Lay Laid
Next time we'll talk about nor versus or, than versus then, irregular verbs and a few other things, and I will continue sharing the pesky comma rules cheat-sheet. Don't miss the posts!
In this short story collection I mentioned a few stories about the humorous part of learning a new language along with stories from my nursing years.
Available in eBook and audiobook:
Friday, March 22, 2019
That Pesky Comma by Erika M Szabo
Where does it belong?
I learned English as an adult and the comma became my worst nightmare when I started writing.
Where it's needed and don't need it?
I read a book recently and found a lot of sentences where the comma was used incorrectly. I'm no expert, and I still rely on editors to correct my mistakes, but this book gave me the impression that it had never seen a good editor.
I rely on the editors to catch my mistakes, but I really should use my cheat-sheet more often. I bet my editor would have fewer headaches.
Here is my cheat-sheet:
Use
a comma before any coordinating conjunction
"I walked by the lake, and I saw a
fox."
"I walked by the lake" and
"I saw a fox" are both independent clauses, therefore, we need a
comma.
However, if I eliminate the second
"I" the second clause would lack a subject, making it not a clause at
all. In that case, it would no longer need a comma:
"I walked by the lake and saw a fox."
Use
a comma after a dependent clause that starts a sentence.
"When I walked by the lake, I saw a fox."
I had trouble to grasp this rule:
"Commas always follow these clauses at the start of a sentence. If a
dependent clause ends the sentence, however, it no longer requires a comma.
Only use a comma to separate a dependent clause at the end of a sentence for
added emphasis, usually when negation occurs."
Use
commas to offset appositives from the rest of the sentence.
Appositives act as synonyms for a
juxtaposed word or phrase.
"While walking, I saw a fox, a kind
of mammal." "A kind of mammal" is the appositive, which gives
more information about "a fox."
If the appositive occurs in the middle of
the sentence, both sides of the phrase need a comma. As in, "A fox, a kind
of mammal, attacked me."
Now this scared me until I understood the
logic in it. "As long as the phrase somehow gives more information about
its predecessor, you usually need a comma."
"A fox, the kind of mammal I saw when
I went walking, attacked me."
There's one exception to this rule. Don't
offset a phrase that gives necessary information to the sentence. Usually,
commas surround a non-essential clause or phrase.
"The fox that attacked me scared my
friend" doesn't require any commas. Even though the phrase "that
attacked me" describes "the fox," it provides essential
information to the sentence. Otherwise, no one would know why the fox scared
your friend. Clauses that begin with "that" are usually essential to
the sentence and do not require commas.
Use
commas to separate items in a series.
"I saw a fox, a mammal, and a liquor
store when I went running."
That last comma, known as the serial
comma, Oxford comma, or Harvard comma, causes serious controversy. Although
many consider it unnecessary, others, including Business Insider, insist on its
use to reduce ambiguity.
Use
a comma after introductory adverbs.
"Finally, I went running."
"Surprisingly, I saw a fox when I went
running."
Use
a comma when attributing quotes.
The runner said, "I saw a fox."
"I saw a fox," said the runner.
Enjoy the introduction of my urban fantasy trilogy
Trilogy box set
Books in the series
Monday, February 25, 2019
Cursed Bloodline by Erika M Szabo
They look alike, but one of them is broken on the inside
Writers can get inspiration anywhere, and any time.
The idea to write this novella came to me when I found an
old letter from grandma in my drawer where I keep precious holiday cards and
letters. I saved that yellowed letter because I loved her neat handwriting.
It doesn't take much to trigger a writer's imagination, so I
started thinking. What if... what if this letter was written by an ancestor
who lived hundreds of years ago? What if it would contain information that
could save someone in the present? From that moment, the story started to form
in my mind.
I imagined Sofia as a med student who is planning to spend
the summer in Hungary with her brother who is an archeologist. On the flight
she meets a man who turns out to be her puppy love from long time ago.
Jayden finds a leather book in his grandmother's secret room
that was written in 426 by a shaman. Sofia can read the ancient runes, and they
learn about their family's curse. If it remains unbroken, the curse will bring
tragedy and ruin their lives as it destroyed many of their ancestors' lives for
centuries.
Can they find the way to break the curse? Could Sofia find
happiness with her long-lost friend?
When I had the rough outline of the story, the words started
to pour, and I added a lot more secrets, historical facts and legends as well
as suspenseful moments to keep the readers at the edge of their seats.
 |
A short excerpt:
Jayden hurried toward the parking garage, pulling Sofia’s
luggage.
“Slow down, Jay,” Sofia cried out as she lagged behind with
her carry-on bag. “I can’t keep up if you’re running like that.”
“Sorry.” Jayden looked back and slowed down, “I’m so eager
to show you what I’ve found.”
“What is it?” Sofia tried to catch her breath.
“It’s kind of a book made of leather sheets sewn together.
It’s written with ancient Hun runes. I
think the letters were burned into the
leather. I should’ve learned from Grandma to read it like you did.”
“That’s so exciting.” Sofia started walking faster. “Did you
bring it with you?”
“Yes, it’s in the car, I thought you could start translating
it on the ride home. Here is my car in this row.”
They reached the old Porsche that was their grandma’s car
and Jayden packed Sofia’s luggage into the trunk. He reached into the back and
pulled a duffel bag from the back seat.
He opened the zipper and took out a
package wrapped in old-looking leather sheets. When Jayden unwrapped it, inside
she saw the book made of leather sheets sewn together.
Jayden handed it to Sofia and asked, “What do you think?”
She fingered the soft
leather, “It’s old and still so pliable,” she mused. “Look, the Sacred Turul is
burned into the cover.”
“May the sacred Turul protect you on your journey,” they
chanted the ancient line that every Hun whispered when they saw a falcon, alive
or in a picture. The spirit of the falcon
called Turul in ancient Hun mythology is
believed to be the protector of the Huns.
Sofia got into the passenger seat, opened the book and
scanned the pages. Jayden started the engine and pulled out of the parking
space. The traffic was heavy in the city, but soon they were driving northeast
on the smooth highway.
“So, what do you think?” Jayden asked.
“Wow! Let me read it.” Sofia turned to the first page and
started translating.
I am Zoan, the humble
Shaman of the Roaring Falcon tribe. I’m going to write Elana’s story in detail
with the hope that the descendants of Elana could read this and break the
powerful curse. It happened on the third
moon of the year, the events that led to Tuana’s
curse. The day Elana was forced to leave her happy childhood behind and take
the reality and responsibilities of adulthood.
Sofia lowered the book to her lap and turned to her brother,
“Jay, could this be written so long ago?”
“I think so, or rather hope so. Please read on.”
Sofia lifted the book, and said, “I’m winging it here
because I’m not familiar with this word átokja,
but I think it is the old version of átok, which
means curse. Also, there is another phrase— akarata erősségje.
I think it means powerful.”
“Just do your best and you can do a more detailed
translation later.”
“Okay, here it goes.”
Elana, unaware of her fate, gave her horse a gentle squeeze
with her knees, to run faster. Willow zigzagged between the jurtas that were lined up in a semicircle,
leaving a broad plaza in the middle. Elana
glanced up at the tall wooden pole that stood in the center of the square. It had
intricate designs carved into it and was painted
with brilliant colors. On top of it was a giant carved falcon, standing with
wings open wide, as if it was getting ready to take flight. Oh, I’m so
late; my mother is going to kill me, she
thought and prompted her horse to run
faster. An old woman who was carrying
firewood stopped and shook her head in disapproval. “These youngsters are
riding like demons,” she mumbled, looking after Elana.
Elana reached her home. She slid off the mare’s back in a
hurry and fastened the horse’s rein to a wooden pole. Her breaths came in short
puffs, and her rosy cheeks glistened with perspiration. She patted the horse’s
neck, gave her an armful of hay, and
poured fresh water from a leather bag that hung on the pole into a clay bowl.
She whispered, “I have to hurry, but I’ll be back soon, Willow, promise.”
She hurried up to the entrance of the tent-like building,
called Jurta, with a few long strides. She parted her kaftan-like dark blue
overcoat, pulled up her baggy trousers,
and smoothed her tunic that her mother had
adorned with delicate flower designs. Elana pulled the leather entrance cover
aside with a heavy sigh, and she braced herself mentally for the long lecture
that she knew she must endure.
As usual, she was late for her herbal lessons with her
mother, a beautiful, statuesque, dark-haired
woman who slowly rose from a curved sofa-like piece of furniture. Soft light
coming from the opening at the ceiling shone on her green, delicately-decorated
calf-length tunic that she wore with loose black trousers. Her hair was braided
with thin leather thongs and hugged her
shoulders.
Elana took off her boots and placed them by the entrance.
She winced when Mara’s high-pitched, angry voice hit her like a whip. “You are
late, again, young lady! Didn’t I tell you to be home by the time the sun
reaches the head of the Falcon? Look!” she pointed at the pole through the
door.
Elana quickly let the
leather curtain slide back to cover the door,
dutifully bowed, and whispered, “Yes, Mother. Sorry,
Mother.”
She always wanted to please her mother, she really did, but
she could rarely live up to her expectations. Luckily, Mara’s anger and
lectures were as brief as summer storms, so Elana obediently stood by the
entrance and lowered her eyelids to hide the playful twinkle in her eyes. Her
long, black hair, which was braided in thin
rows, slid off her shoulders as she bowed her head, and she adjusted her
delicately-woven horsetail headband that kept the stray hairs out of her face. Elana
took a hesitant step forward on the thick, wool carpet that covered the dirt floor
of the Jurta.
“Where were you?”
“We were… I was… I got some herbs, too. Look!” Elana hoped
that she could divert her mother’s attention, so she quickly opened the leather
pouch that contained some flowers that she had collected. Lying wasn’t in her nature
but concealing the truth a little by trailing the conversation away from the
sensitive subject was widely used in her tribe, especially by teenagers.
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