Showing posts with label Erika M Szabo. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Erika M Szabo. Show all posts

Friday, April 9, 2021

Book Friday: The Worthless Painting

 The Worthless Painting


I was watching the Musketeers series and my mind wandered off. I imagined a painter in France in the 14th century whose painting ends up forgotten in a family's closet in America. What if this painting would be found and after lots of confusion would bring two people together?

Small-town cozy mystery novelette.

Danielle’s life spins out of control when the snobbish new owner of the Couture mansion brings a seemingly worthless painting into her antique shop. The ownership of the painting is questionable, and the town’s future is threatened by the plans of the ruthless, rich owner. An unexpected visitor arrives, and he may possess the much-needed solution to everyone’s problems.

EBOOK  

AUDIOBOOK

Posted by Erika M Szabo



Wednesday, March 24, 2021

Re-blogged: Nightmares and Witching Hour

 Are you persistently waking up at night at the same time?

Please note:
Although this article contains some medical facts, it’s mostly my own observation of patients and talking to patients throughout my nursing career.

Can’t sleep 6-8 hours straight without waking up?
If you’re persistently waking up at night at the same time, it might be because your body and mind are trying to tell you something. Our bodies and minds work like an amazing computer system. The body is “resetting” the physical body, and the mind is organizing the previous day’s events, thoughts, and feelings. We need a restful sleep to help our body, but sometimes our sleep is interrupted.

Waking up 10 Pm – midnight:
Waking up at this time of the night might be due to stress and anxious thoughts throughout the day that hasn’t been resolved before going to sleep. You might be feeling pressured at your job, in your family life, or you have a lot on your “to-do” list and having a hard time keeping up.
Try:
Take a warm bath before bed, watch, or read a relaxing story, or listen to calming music. Think about the positive things you’ve accomplished. Next, put the unresolved issues and to-do list in your mind to a mental file “to be solved another day”.

Waking up midnight – 1 Am:
This is when your mind is dealing with anger issues and the pent-up, unresolved anger tends to wake you up at this time of the night. Anger might manifest itself as a bad dream or nightmare.
Try:
Before bed try to stretch, do some light yoga exercises, and think about what made you angry throughout the day. Remember, some things you cannot change, follow the philosophy of a dog. If you can’t change it, don’t waste time being angry about it. Piss on it, kick some dirt on it, and move on.

Waking up 1 Am – 3 Am:
The feeling of hate is keeping you up around this time of the night that related mostly to self-hatred. You might hate your aging or sick body, weaknesses of your personality, or situations you got yourself into.
Try:
Have a good talk with yourself and point out what you like about your body and personality. Embrace the positive things and make fun of the negative ones. Yeah, my boobs have been taken over by gravity and moving to the south, but with the help of a push-up bra, they can still look perky. Remember, just because people put on a cheerful mask, every single person is dealing with problems that life throws at us, even with occasional self-doubt and self-loathing. You’re not alone. Accept yourself, the whole package, and don’t pick on little things that are only temporary.    
Forgive others who hurt you. Remember, when you keep a grudge alive, you carry the much-hated person with you 24/7 in your mind. Drop them like a hot potato and move on.


Sunday, March 14, 2021

Who is the Killer? Did you Guess Right?

 Who will be arrested for killing Mrs. O'Brian?

If you didn't yet, click to read the WhoDunIt story:


The conclusion of the story:

As the officers handcuffed Gerard, the janitor, Detective Chance scanned the anxious women sitting on the floral-printed sofa. They nervously glanced at the detective who paced in front of them. Flora, a middle-aged, plump caregiver, Mrs. Banks, the manager of the apartment complex, a tall, bony woman with a pointy nose and dark hair combed into a tight bun, and Tricia O’ Brian, the old lady’s drug addict niece.

“Today I hit two birds with one stone,” the detective scratched his chin, towering over Flora.

The caregiver turned pasty white. “Not me! She did it!” she screamed pointing at Mrs. Banks. “She goes into the apartments when nobody is home.” Flora accused.

“Her alibi checks out,” the detective said. “She was seen on the security cameras at the casino’s parking lot at eight, beating up her husband, and they were arrested shortly after. They were not released until 3 AM.”

“Then it was the niece!” Flora accused. “Those damned drug addicts would do anything for money.”

“I wouldn’t, I couldn’t!” Tricia protested. “I loved my aunt.”

The detective looked into Flora’s eyes. “Flora Sweet, I’m arresting you for murdering Mrs. O’Brian. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to speak to an attorney, and to have an attorney present during any questioning.”

“But how?” Mrs. Banks asked. “We entered the apartment together.”

“It was the second time,” the detective turned to Mrs. Banks. “She visited Mrs. O’Brian the night before, shortly after the old lady called her. She ransacked the apartment looking for the lottery ticket, and when she couldn’t find it, she panicked. I didn’t have any proof until I heard what Flora told you a few minutes ago when she leaned closer to you and whispered, ‘Oh, my! Who could be so cruel to smother a sweet old lady to death?’. I never told anyone that Mrs. O’Brian was smothered. Only the killer knew that.”

We hope you've enjoyed our WhoDunIt mystery. The winners of the audiobooks will be notified via email.

 

by Alan Zacher and Erika M Szabo

Request a complimentary audiobook

Thursday, March 11, 2021

A WhoDunIt Mystery - Guess Who The Killer Is

WhoDunIt, a fun contest for mystery lovers

 

by Alan Zacher and Erika M Szabo

Read the story, guess who the killer is, enter the contest at the end of the post.
If you guess correctly, you win an audiobook.

On a rainy Thursday morning, Mrs. O’ Brian was found dead in her one-bedroom apartment in the inner-city of St. Louis by her caretaker and the apartment complex manager. According to their statements, Mrs. O’Brian didn’t come to the door as usual when Flora, her caretaker knocked. Worried, she asked the manager to open the door, and they’ve found the old lady in the kitchen, dead, and the apartment ransacked.

Homicide Detective Chance was assigned to the case. According to the coroner’s report, Mrs. O'Brian died sometime between eight and midnight the night before. The cause of death was asphyxiation as the result of someone holding a soft, thick material to her face until she stopped breathing. Although she had some bruising on her arms as if she tried to fight off the attacker, the coroner didn’t find any evidence under her fingernails. 

By Friday, Detective Chance found out that Mrs. O’ Brian had lived there for many years, had a moderate income, and she was a lady of routine. She rose every morning at six AM. After bathing and dressing, she ate her breakfast of a bowl of cereal while she watched the morning local news on the small TV that sat on top of the kitchen table. On Mondays and Thursdays from eight AM until noon, Flora, her caregiver, came to help her with cleaning, laundry, and cooking. On Tuesday mornings, Mrs. O’Brian ordered a taxi and went to buy groceries at a small family-owned store, the Kroger’s, five blocks south of her apartment building.

Detective Chance visited the store and finding the owner asked if he knows Mr. O’Brian. “Of course, she’s been shopping here every week for years. A loyal customer, she was just here Tuesday. I hope she knows that she had won the jackpot,” the owner of the store told the detective, smiling. But his expression turned sad when the detective told him that she was murdered. “Oh, I’m so sorry!” he cried out. “She was such a sweet person.”

“How did you know she won the lottery?” the detective inquired.

I know because every week she’s been buying one ticket and always playing the same numbers, her birthday and of her late husband’s birthday. She told me many times that if she would ever win the lottery, she would have an animal sanctuary built and gather all the old, unwanted animals. Life is so unfair!” he cried out. “Just when her dream comes true, she dies.” 

After gathering all the information, he could, the detective didn’t have any proof, only suspicion. He asked the most likely suspects to gather in the modestly furnished living-room of Mrs. O’Brian’s apartment, hoping he could flush out the murderer.

Two women arrived first. They sat on the floral-printed sofa, nervously glancing at the detective who stood by the window deep in thoughts, and the police officers standing by the door. Flora, a middle-aged, plump caregiver, Mrs. Banks, the manager of the apartment complex, a tall, bony woman with a pointy nose and dark hair combed into a tight bun.

Flora leaned closer to Mrs. Banks and whispered, “Oh, my! Who could be so cruel to smother a sweet old lady to death? I’m going to miss her.” She sniffed and wiped her eyes with a tissue.

“Terrible!” Mrs. Banks nodded. “Just terrible. Who could have done it?”

“I never trusted this shifty-eyed janitor,” Flora whispered.

“I never had any problems with him, but you never know… We don’t really know people.”

As if talking about the devil, Gerard Ochs, the disheveled-looking janitor of the apartment complex in stained overall walked in and sat on the sofa close to Mrs. Banks. “There is a leak in apartment C,” he said to the manager. “I shut off the water; I’ll fix it later when we’re done here.”

Mrs. Banks nodded and looked up as Tricia O’ Brian, a twenty-three-year-old known drug addict niece of Mrs. O’ Brian walked in. She sat down and clasped her hands trying to hide the tremors of her fingers.

Scanning the nervously fidgeting bunch, Detective Chance began talking, “The coroner’s report of Mrs. O’ Brian states that she had been murdered. Everyone in this room had access to her apartment. According to her phone records, on late Wednesday night, she called every one of you, most likely to tell you that she won the lottery jackpot. Therefore, you all had a motive to kill her and steal the winning ticket!”

He towered over the niece, Tricia O’ Brian, “You are a drug addict, you have no job, and I suspect, you’re always in need of money.”

“But I… I didn’t get her message until…” she stuttered. “Until you told me this morning when you found me at my boyfriend’s apartment. You see, we had a party last night and… I didn’t hear the phone…” 

The detective gave her a pitying look, turned, and stared at Mrs. Banks. “Your husband has gambling debts and the loan sharks are threatening him. You live in the complex and you have a key to this apartment.”

“It wasn’t me!” Mrs. Bank shouted. “I drove to the casino shortly after eight, dragged my no-good husband out of there by the ear, and we had a huge fight in the parking lot. The police were called, and they took us to the police station. We didn’t get home until four in the morning.”

The detective took a step toward the caregiver. The middle-aged woman squirmed when the detective looked into her eyes. “Flora, let’s talk about that morning when you and Mrs. Banks found Mrs. O’Brian slumped over at the kitchen table, dead.”

“As I told you then,” Flora said wringing her fingers on her lap. “I kept knocking and pushing the doorbell, but she didn’t answer. I got worried, and I went to wake up Mrs. Banks to let me in with her master key.”

The detective shook his head and leaned closer to Flora. “But that’s not what happened. You have a key to the building and a key to your clients’ apartment. I know; I checked with the two other residents here that you are taking care of. You let yourself in. What happened after that?”

Flora’s eyes widened. “No! I never had a key to Mrs. O’Brian’s apartment. She was paranoid about that, she never gave me a key. I swear!” Detective Chance gave her a sharp look, and then he turned to face the janitor.

The detective now faced Gerard Ochs, the janitor. “You have been stealing jewelry from these residents for years,” he accused. “You’ve been careful, you take only one piece of jewelry at a time.”

The janitor drew a sharp breath. “How do… how do you know?”

“Because you’re stupid enough to use the pawnbroker only a block away from the apartment complex.” The detective motioned to one of the uniformed officers standing by the door. “Arrest him and take him to the station.”

Flora jumped up. “Murderer!” she shrieked.

“I didn't do it!” Gerard screamed as the officers handcuffed him. “I'm a thief but I'm no killer!”

“What happened to the lottery ticket, detective?” came Tricia's shaky voice. “I'm her only relative, and I could really use the money right now.”

“Mrs. O’Brian gave the ticket to her lawyer and named him the executor of her new will to have the animal sanctuary built. She took care of everything the afternoon before she was murdered.”

Detective Chance had all the information he needed to arrest the murderer.

The conclusion of the story and the killer will be revealed Sunday, the 14th of March

Click on the link to find out who the killer was

https://asmallgangofauthors.blogspot.com/2021/03/who-is-killer-did-you-guess-right.html

The contest is over, but we still have a few complimentary audiobooks. If you like to listen to audiobooks, request a complimentary copy below


Sunday, December 22, 2019

FREE for 5 Days

Read it FREE December 22-26

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B081ZK3HWL
A 90 minutes read Christmas story, sweet romance.
Born to a drug addict mother and left on the church steps, Elana’s life was revolving door of shattered hopes and disappointments. Until she met Luca. But cruel fate tore them apart. Will they meet again?


Sunday, December 8, 2019

Friday, December 6, 2019

Bittersweet Memories

A sweet romance Christmas story

Elana was born to a homeless, drug addict mother and left on the steps of St. Patrick Cathedral. 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.
Allowing them only a short time of happiness, cruel fate tore them apart. All she had was hope and half of the rosewood heart pendant he carved to hold onto.
Will they meet again?

Friday, October 4, 2019

Messenger

When the Raven calls, listen!


Supernatural thriller, now available for pre-order.
99 cents introductory price.
Get your copy before the price goes up

Supernatural thriller

Lauren has everything she’d ever wished for. Great career, financial security, loving husband, and devoted friends.
When her Raven spirit guide warns her of impending danger, she takes the omen seriously, but she doesn’t have enough time to perform the protection spell her grandmother taught her. Someone breaks into her office and after the brutal attack and the Raven’s repeated warnings, she knows her life is in danger.
Who wants her dead and why?

Wednesday, August 21, 2019

Rainbows and Clouds by Erika M Szabo

Short stories about life’s humorous, happy, and dark moments.


Some of the stories are from my years in nursing, Steve's clumsiness and my cooking disasters might make you spit out your coffee laughing. The stories of my pets will put a warm smile on your face, and the stories about life's darker moments might make you wipe a tear or two.

Rainbows and dark clouds are part of life,
Without darkness there can be no light.
Without moments that make us cry,
We can’t enjoy moments that make us smile.
Without moments that make us laugh,
We can’t get through moments that make us sad.
~Erika M Szabo

Listen to a few stories

Tuesday, August 13, 2019

Cursed Bloodline by Erika M Szabo

Romantic historical suspense 

by Erika M Szabo

EBOOK     PRINT
I recently changed the cover because readers suggested that the story is a bit darker than the cover indicates it. Judge it for yourself. Scroll through the book presentation below, read excerpts from the book and find links.

Wednesday, July 3, 2019

Squint-eyed Woman

When a simple paint job goes wrong



I visited a friend, Marie, and noticed with surprise that everyone in her family was unusually polite and quiet. On my usual visits everyone was laughing, teasing each other and her ten years old son, Brian, was running around in one of his many hero costumes.

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.


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:



Wednesday, May 22, 2019

Fake It Till You Make It

Is it a good advice?


I wrote this short story remembering all the seemingly perfect families I've met in my life.
They show a picture perfect family life but hide the struggles, heartache, compromises, and sacrifices they made to get there.
People are not perfect and we all come with a baggage. We can live a happy life or a create a chaotic life. It all depends on the choices we make

Nancy arrives home from a long day at work. She kicks off her high heels and walks into the kitchen. Bruce lights the candles on the dinner table and embraces her in a warm hug. Her two girls, ages five and six, are running from the playroom to greet her. Their handsome seventeen-year-old boy looks up from his computer and smiles at her.
A beautiful picture, isn’t it? The man plays the role of the happy househusband and the wife is the breadwinner. Nothing is wrong with that. But, let’s just see how they got to this ideal picture of a happy home.

A short snippet from the book
Bruce remembered a conversation he had with his father a long time ago.
They were sitting at the kitchen table having a beer when he was just a teenager. He felt so grown up and important because his father let him drink a beer. He asked his father if he ever loved his mother. He had watched their relationship since he was a small child, and he couldn’t sense any devotion on his father’s part.

“She’s a dumb bitch. What’s there to love? But she’s a good mother and a good provider. I find my love elsewhere, son. The home is for security and comfort while I’m looking for a job,” he said, winking at Bruce. “She’s well trained if you know what I mean,” he continued.

Bruce wanted his father’s approval desperately. He was the role model for absentee fathers, but occasionally they had a moment together when he felt some closeness to him. All his life he believed that his mother and, as a matter of fact, every woman was just a meal ticket to an easy life. That’s what he saw, and that’s what he learned. He thought about relationships rationally: have fun with a girl but marry a steady woman on whom you can depend, as his father said. He had many girls to have fun with, and when he was in his early twenties, he began looking for a wife. He moved in and out of fleeting relationships, and he was surprised in the beginning that after four or five months, the women threw him out. They saw right through him and they refused to be used. He asked his father about it.

“Son, you have to be smart. You can’t just sit at home watching movies all day. Of course, they will find out you have no intention to work. You must ‘fake it till you make it’ Take a job, do it for a couple of weeks, and then get yourself fired. Find a way that makes it look like it wasn’t your fault. Then you’re okay for a couple of months; they will leave you in peace to look for another job,” his father advised him.
It worked for years, and he could stay in a relationship longer and longer.

My published fiction, children's books, and audiobooks:


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, May 8, 2019

Folk Art

Hungarian folk art


When people mention Hungarian folk art they talk about it as if it were a unified whole, but the designs carry many different motifs and meanings depending on the region they originate from. The Palóc people in north-eastern Hungary prepared simple hand-woven fabrics, while the women of Sárköz were famous for their refined weaving techniques. It is easy to distinguish between the colorful embroideries made in Kalocsa and the Matyó motifs made in the area around Mezökövesd, where mainly blue and red threads were used in designs made before the middle of the 19th century.
Enjoy some of the beautiful designs.
Matyó
Kalocsa
Sárköz

Visit my website, you might find a book you like:


Monday, February 25, 2019

Cursed Bloodline by Erika M Szabo

They look alike, but one of them is broken on the inside
 
EBOOK   PRINT 

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 erÅ‘sségje. 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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