Showing posts with label fiction. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fiction. Show all posts

Sunday, April 5, 2026

Book Excerpt - The Ancestors' Secrets #historical #fiction #magicalrealism

 A healer’s gift, a clan’s curse, and a destiny written across centuries

Ancient secrets. Forbidden powers. A destiny that spans centuries. Ilona’s quiet life as a village doctor unravels when visions and enemies awaken her hidden lineage. From medieval castles to modern battles, she must embrace her clan’s mystical legacy—or risk losing everything.

https://books2read.com/u/bM7GZ8

Dear Diary. What a day! My birthday, especially the afternoon, was all about secrets. Secrets are conducted with or marked by hidden aims or methods. The Snapdragon is a great symbol of secrets; it resembles an open mouth yet doesn’t reveal anything.

I sat on the patio and heard Elza moving about in the kitchen. Ema had locked herself in her studio and Rua wouldn’t come back to the house until dinner time, so I knew I could safely enter my little secret place without being disturbed. I hadn’t visited it for over a decade. I tiptoed into the living room, listening to the sounds, and pulled the corner of the tapestry aside that was covering the wall by the fireplace. I turned the small flower design on the mantel, and when the secret door slowly opened. As soon as I entered the narrow space, the door closed behind me in an instant.

I inched my way through the confining space into a tiny room. Elza always complained about the broom closet being too small, but I knew why. Someone, long ago, divided the closet and turned half of it into a hiding place, or rather, a spy room. I touched the small ottoman that occupied most of the space, then sat down and peeked through the slit hidden in the frame of the huge painting hanging in the living room. I had a complete view of the entire room.

As a child, I had spied on countless meetings and gatherings that Mom had forbidden me to join. I sat there for a while, remembering, but then recalled Mom’s words. I looked around and searched every inch of the room, but found nothing. I was greatly disappointed. Mom said to look, so there must have been something, perhaps a guide or instructions that she left for me to find. I searched, touched the walls, pushed the ottoman aside, and looked under it. I had found nothing, besides dust and my old teddy bear.

As I sat down, I recalled a meeting I saw when I was around the age of six. My parents had asked me to stay in my room, but of course, I didn’t obey. At first, I saw people sitting around, chatting about family and everyday things that didn’t interest me, so I must have dozed off. Suddenly, the rhythmical sound of drums woke me up. I was excited to see the adults sitting in a circle on the carpet. They were holding hands, singing. Later, they started talking about things that didn’t make much sense to me. They said the future was still uncertain, and they were discussing something about a person named Mora. They were infuriated with her, and they said she and Joland could destroy the entire nation with their meddlesome and vengeful ways if they succeed changing the past.

“We have to be very careful with her,” one said, “she’s a conniving and evil person.”

Someone else spoke, “The legend says that her lover was exiled to another timeline, in the past, but he is still alive. They can communicate somehow, and they plan to change the past in order to rule in the future.”

“Does anybody know what she looks like or how we can stop her?” a short, stocky man asked loudly.

“We only know her son, Ond, and I know that he’s trying to worm his way into the higher circles.” My father said his name with such hatred that it scared me. I couldn’t even imagine that my loving and gentle Daddy was capable of hating someone.

“We must be careful with him because he is strong, and he has powerful allies,” a man’s voice echoed.

“Yes, we have to stay on alert, and we have to be careful. We don’t know how much power Mora still has and what kind of abilities Ond possesses.”

I was a child, and I didn’t understand what they were talking about, so it didn’t interest me. Now, I wish I had paid more attention. Deep in thought, I picked up my old teddy bear and absent-mindedly started stroking his soft artificial fur. He was my favorite childhood toy, stuffed to perfect softness.

I fingered my Turul pendant and the soft horsetail string, remembering Midnight. She was a beautiful, black mare with a white, crescent-shaped patch on her forehead. I closed my eyes and imagined her soft lips caressing my face as she neighed softly.

Suddenly, I heard a soft click and saw my pendant open and then felt something running up my chest and sharp pain in my neck. The pain made me jump, and I let out a muted cry. As I touched the skin, I felt warm wetness. Alarmed, I looked at my hand and saw smeared blood glistening on my fingertip. I almost fainted when I noticed that my fingers began to glow as if a bright red light had turned on from the inside. At the same time, I felt something scurrying from the side of my neck toward my chest and heard the soft click again. My pendant was closed. It must have been a bug or a spider. The damned thing bit me! I looked down at my chest and swept my clothes madly, looking for the bug.

A sudden swirling sensation took me by surprise. I grabbed the side of the ottoman to steady myself while everything began to fade around me. Trying to find a focal point to decrease the sudden vertigo, I fixed my eyes on my teddy bear, which I was still holding. I noticed with escalating alarm that the toy’s button eyes took on a strange red glow. The plastic eyes seemed alive, and the intense luminescence kept me frozen. I’m hallucinating, this is not real. I tried to turn away, but I couldn’t move my muscles. I couldn’t even blink. I was scared, never having felt such primal fear before. My heart raced, and my breath came in little puffs as I felt cold beads of sweat on my forehead. Adrenaline flooded my body, triggered by a sudden fright, but I was afraid it might have been some poison from the bite, as well.

The strange sensation and hallucination stopped as quickly as it started. My hands felt and looked normal, and I became rational in an instant. I just sat there, feeling obtuse, wondering what had just happened. The entire sensation lasted only seconds, but it frightened me a great deal, not knowing what caused it.

I came in here hoping to find answers and only found more questions. It made me angry that I didn’t find anything. The only insight I got was being scared out of my mind. I couldn’t sit there anymore. I felt suffocated and had to get out in the open. Just as I lay Teddy on the ottoman, eased the door open, and peered out, a vague feeling pulled me back. I fingered the Turul bird pendant absent-mindedly, feeling its smoothness and warmth.

Then I realized I had searched everywhere but inside the ottoman. I grabbed the seat and tried to pull it up. There was a soft metallic click, and the top opened. Under the seat was a compartment filled with photographs and my old drawings. I smiled when I spotted the bead necklace I had made for Mom when I was six or seven. She saved it. Tears threatened to flood my eyes. I sat there touching the photos of my strong father and my beautiful mother. They were so happy, yet they had to leave me so early.

Suddenly sobs erupted from my chest. Since their abrupt departure, I had never let myself deeply feel the survivor’s guilt and truly mourn. I refused counseling and even refused to talk about how I felt. Everyone tried to get me to open up, but I wouldn’t budge. I knew it was a big mistake, yet I couldn’t bring myself to discuss it, even with Bela. For years, everyone was worried, but I fooled them by pretending to be super-strong. If only they had known... I still wasn’t ready. As usual, I got control over my emotions and diverted my attention to something physical and regained my frail emotional balance.

While I was gathering the items, I found an old VCR tape under the photos. I grabbed everything and rushed out. It just might be the message! I ran upstairs to my room with the treasures and frantically searched for the VCR in the closet I’d saved to watch old tapes. Although most of the tapes had been converted to digital files, I never threw out the old player. I hooked it up and popped the tape in, eagerly waiting for the video to start.

My heart skipped when I saw my mother’s face coming into view. She leaned forward as if she were adjusting the camera. “Hi, sunshine,” she said. The sight of her and the sound of her voice made my stomach queasy and brought tears to my eyes. “You’re watching this tape, so it’s your twenty-ninth birthday, and I’m gone. Don’t cry. It’s okay. I’m not there with you, and I know it’s unfair, but it must be this way. I love you so much. I knew about your hiding place and knew you would find Teddy and this tape. Listen carefully. I will tell you about your birthright...”

The picture turned snowy, and my mother’s face disappeared. The image clicked back, but there was a cartoon playing. “No, please, no!” I shouted, grabbing the remote. I forwarded the tape, but there was only the stupid cartoon. I fast-forwarded to the end of the tape, and Mom came back.

“Your Destiny Box contains all you have to know about our people and your future. Only you have the power to open it. Your father had to hide the box, but your instincts will guide you where to find it when it's time for you to open it. You have a great future ahead of you. Use your powers well and make sure to use them to do good. Never give in to greed or revenge, and remember that those are very powerful temptations. Your father and I are so proud of you. We will love you forever.” She smiled, blew me a kiss, and then she was gone.

Bile rose in my throat, making me nauseous. I had only one chance to find out what this Hunor mystery was about, and I destroyed it. I must have taped that stupid cartoon over my mother’s most important message before she had a chance to put the tape in the ottoman’s compartment. I’ve tried rewinding and forwarding the tape slowly, but I couldn’t see more than what I saw and heard the first time. My anger and disappointment were choking me, but I had to accept that there was nothing I could do.

I noticed that the spot where I felt the bite on my neck was itchy. I went to the bathroom to check. There was a small spot of smeared blood on my skin, and when I wiped it away, I saw a tiny puncture mark. I looked at it closely with a handheld mirror, but I didn’t see a blister; there was no redness, and I didn’t feel any burning sensation.

I reasoned that if it was a bug or spider and the poison had caused that dizziness, it would not have gone away so soon. I would be sick, or there would be some redness or burning. I feel perfectly fine, but what the hell is going on? Where is that “Destiny Box” and why is it important? I may never find out.

I had to get out of the house and do something physical to balance my emotional turmoil and frustration. Gypsy happily joined me as soon as he saw me tying my hiking boots. “Let’s take a walk in the woods, okay, old boy?” Gypsy was wagging his tail, and as always, he was a willing partner for a nice walk.

My beloved waterfall is about half a mile from the house, deep in the woods. I took my cell phone and enough drinking water for both of us in my backpack. The woods in September are beautiful. The leaves had started to change color, and wildflowers were everywhere. Birds chirped happily, bunnies hopped timidly, and chipmunks and squirrels scurried along the ground and up in the trees.

Gypsy walked by my side, his long fur flowing with every step. Occasionally, he mock-chased a rabbit or squirrel for a couple of steps, but it was just a show. He would never hurt another animal. He was a gentle giant, much like Bela, and enjoyed showing that he could if he really wanted to.

“Just a little hike up this path and we’ll be there,” I told Gypsy. He acknowledged it with a sweep of his long tail, and the look in those deep, chocolate eyes told me clearly that he would always be there for me. I patted his head and projected my thoughts to him. I know Gypsy. Somehow it made me feel calmer. Whether it was his influence or I just needed a cool head to think things over, I didn’t know.

Soon, we were there at the foot of the hundred-foot waterfall. It was a breathtaking sight as the sunshine created a misty rainbow over the falling water drops that collected in a small pool. I sat there for an hour or so, just soaking in beauty and serenity, and daydreamed while Gypsy, who wasn’t fascinated by nature’s beauty, took a doggy nap by my side.

I recalled Bela’s kiss, reliving every delicious detail of it. It played repeatedly in my mind, pouring the passionate feeling deep into my heart. What a pity that’s all I had. One second of passion, occasionally, as if I didn’t deserve more. I know I could love him as no other if he would just let me. If he could just love me back. However, he didn’t, and that was that. I had to accept it because I had no choice.

Suddenly, the man I’d seen earlier across the gallery popped into my mind. He could capture my heart. In fact, he had captured my heart... a little, no - a lot. The thought startled me. It wasn’t only his looks, but it had to be some kind of magnetic pull that radiated from him. It was as if he were a comet rushing toward me from the deepest part of the universe. For that one second, when we locked eyes, nothing else mattered. I would have followed him anywhere. Two halves met and made a whole.

Gypsy looked up when I started talking angrily. “Oh, stop it, you fool... Stop this nonsensical daydreaming. You don’t have a chance. Even if, by any minuscule possibility, he was attracted to you, what would you do? Who is he? What is he? You don’t know anything. Yeah, he’s beautiful on the outside, but what is he like on the inside? Anyway, he’s not for you - it doesn’t matter.” I scolded myself and diverted my thoughts onto a different path, so I wouldn’t fall into a deep pit of wondering and wallowing in self-pity.

To get the sensitive issue out of my mind, I recalled the feeling I had that morning, that powerful yearning to heal with my hands. “It’s an unbelievable and far-fetched idea, nothing but a wishful dream,” I chided myself.

However, I recalled Mom doing some strange things when I was a small child. She always shooed me out of the room when strangers came to see her, but I’d seen her touching those people from my hiding place. I remembered her eyes. She was far, far away as if she were in a trance, and after a few minutes, the stranger would stand up, smiling and thanking my mother. I didn’t dare ask what she was doing, because she didn’t know I was watching. Or did she? She told me to look in my hiding place and find the answers I needed. Well, I didn’t find answers, only more questions.

I knew there were some mysterious abilities in my family. I saw what my father did to scare Rua away from the liquor, and I was able to slow time around me. I suspected my mother did something to those people when she touched them. Elza was a witch, in my opinion, but I didn’t have enough facts to be sure.

Since there were no answers, I decided to head in a different direction on the way home and go across the meadow. Nature bloomed rainbow colors in the clearing, and I felt as if I was swimming in the fresh grass and flowers rather than walking. I gathered an armful of flowers before stopping at the monument erected over my parents’ ashes. I’d commissioned the life-sized, dark gray granite statue made of my mother and father embracing, one year after they died. The little clearing in the woods had always been their favorite part of the property.

I sat next to the monument, talking to them for a long time in a strange one-way conversation, “I don’t know if you can hear me or not, but I can feel your presence. I’m all right, but I miss you both so much. I have so many questions... but you can’t answer them - nobody can. I’m going to have to find out on my own, and I will, I promise.”

Gypsy must have wondered why I laughed one second and sobbed the next. He put his huge head on my lap and looked up at me with his brown, gentle eyes. The big dog gave me comfort, and I knew we were connected somehow, on a deep, emotional level. When he got up and rubbed his shoulder on the granite statue, I heard low grumbles from his chest as if he knew my parents’ burial place. He knew, I was sure of it. I stroked his back absent-mindedly.

Suddenly, I felt hot, and beads of sweat started glistening on my skin, all over my exposed body. I pulled up my T-shirt and wiped my forehead that felt as hot as burning coal. I’d never been sick in my entire life. I’d never even had a fever, rash, or tummy aches like other kids. It was just natural for me to be healthy all the time. Now I felt nauseous; my vision blurred as the pounding in my head increased, and I was hot, burning up hot. I stood up and careened a little. I said goodbye to my parents, and as I started walking, Gypsy leaned into me, trying to support me. His eyes were filled with worry as if he knew I felt sick and wanted to help me.

One step at a time, holding onto Gypsy’s back, I staggered. My muscles ached, and my entire body felt as if it contained lead. My vision became blurry, and I felt weak and dizzy. Finally, with the house in view, I stumbled toward it. Gypsy helped me as I struggled up the stairs and made it to the living room, and dropped on the sofa, exhausted, gasping for air. Gypsy gave out a low rumble, and Elza appeared in an instant from the kitchen. She took one look at me, smiled, and rushed back out. Why is she smiling? Can’t she see I’m not well? Anger and hurt welled up inside me. I wondered where the thermometer was, so I could check my temperature. I had no idea because I’d never needed it before. I sat there in a stupor, thinking about getting up and going to bed, but I didn’t have the energy to move.

Elza came back, smiling again. “Let’s get you to bed.” She got a good grip on me, helping me up. It took what seemed like forever to get upstairs, but we made it to my bedroom. Elza helped me out of my boots and clothes and then covered me with a blanket.

“Elza, I have a fever. Would you get a thermometer and some Tylenol? I think a spider bit me and I’m having a delayed reaction to the poison,” I whispered, pondering whether or not to go to the hospital, but I was too tired to think.

“Nonsense! You don’t need any of that. It is all natural,” she said, rushing out of my room. She was back within a few minutes with a steaming cup in her hand, “All you have to do is drink this tea and sleep. That’s all.” Elza held the cup to my lips.

I wanted to argue with her, but I didn’t have the energy. I was very thirsty, and my mouth felt like chalk, so I drank the tea offered and was surprised to find it delicious and soothing. I settled back on my pillow as Elza placed a cool, wet towel on my forehead. It felt wonderful. I closed my eyes, feeling Elza’s soothing hands on my shoulders.

“Will you stay with me?” I asked. My voice was weak and shaky.

“Of course, dear. Now go to sleep,” she whispered.

Sunday, March 29, 2026

Do Not read this Book. Seriously!

 If you start reading

you won't be able to stop

 

“Centuries of vengeance awaken—and one woman’s secret power is the only defense.”

Long ago, in a faraway land, the ancestors shaped her destiny. The secretive world of the ancient clan she was born into is filled with mysteries and obscure traditions. Their beliefs are unbeknownst to her, and Ilona resigns to live the simple life of a small-town doctor. But her life goes into a tailspin on her twenty-ninth birthday.

She starts to develop unusual powers, which she finds exciting as well as frightening. She struggles to find answers, but those who try to reveal the clan secrets are severely punished.

A menacing man is following her and wants to kill her. Who is he?

Punished by the ancestors long ago, Mora has waited centuries for the chance to reunite with her beloved Joland and to gain power over the Hunor clan. Revenge has kept her alive for over 1600 years.

Ilona must search for the mysterious Destiny Box that holds a message from her Ancestors while she attempts to sort out her feelings for the men in her life.

She must activate her Chameleon ability and obtain unimaginable powers. The clan Leaders and Elders are worried, knowing that she can use her growing powers for absolute good or absolute evil. But they have no choice, they’re powerless against Mora and must place their trust in Ilona.

With the help of the clan’s Time Bender, her journey will take her back in time to when her people lived as nomads, to the castles of the 14th century, as they struggle to overcome the obstacles in their path due to the evils of Mora.

She must ensure the birth of the Child in the 4th century to save the future of the Hunor Clan.

Wednesday, February 18, 2026

Twinkle Twinkle Little Star-the story behind the rhyme

Where the rhyme actually comes from 

The famous opening lines began not as a nursery rhyme at all, but as a poem titled “The Star” written by English poet Jane Taylor and published in Rhymes for the Nursery in 1806. 

Taylor’s poem originally had five stanzas, though only the first became universally known. It wasn’t written for children specifically, more a gentle, reflective meditation on light, night, and wonder.

The melody is even older
The tune we all know wasn’t created for the poem. It comes from a French melody called “Ah! vous dirai‑je, maman”, first published in 1761. 

This melody became wildly popular across Europe. Mozart later wrote a set of piano variations on it in the early 1780s, which is why many people mistakenly think he composed the tune. In reality, the composer of the original melody is unknown. 

How the poem and melody merged
The earliest known publication pairing Taylor’s poem with the French tune appeared in 1838, decades after the poem was written. 

Once the two were combined, the song spread quickly through English‑speaking households and became a bedtime staple.

Cultural echoes and adaptations
The opening lines have been referenced and parodied for over two centuries. For example:

Lewis Carroll twisted the rhyme in Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland through the Mad Hatter.

Other writers and composers have created their own playful or poetic variations. 

Its simplicity and cosmic imagery made it a natural fit for both lullabies and literary reinterpretations.

Why it endures
“Twinkle, Twinkle” survives because it sits at the crossroads of:

Childlike wonder

Celestial imagery

A hauntingly simple melody

A poetic structure that feels timeless

It’s one of those rare pieces where poem and tune fuse so perfectly that it feels like they were always meant to belong together.

Author Erika M Szabo


Monday, December 8, 2025

Meet Author Eva Pasco

 Contemporary fiction writer


Eva Pasco accelerated along her writing journey after retiring from a teaching career inside the third-grade trenches. Her award-winning Contemporary Fiction is distinguished for its realism and character-driven plots featuring resilient female protagonists propelled by the nuances of their human condition. Eva’s stories unfold in her native state of Rhode Island where historic events, geographic landmarks, and regional culture blur the lines of demarcation between fact and fiction. 

One of Eva's books

Overlooking Horseshoe Point at the end of Sea Lea Avenue in a quaint village of Charlestown, Rhode Island, you’ll find Aileen’s Guesthouse, where a smattering of locals and lodgers cross paths in the 1970s. Whether through cultivated connection or random encounter, these folks have more in common than first meets the eye for their unintentional culpability in jeopardizing the life of an immediate family member. 
Cross the threshold into a home away from home, a refuge for healing, and a retreat for cultivating hopes and dreams. Eavesdrop on those who survive the ravages of a guilt-wracked conscience and struggle to find meaning in the suffering they’ve caused. Mind you, dinner is served at six o’clock sharp.

More about the author

Is she becoming too masculine?

Tuesday, July 8, 2025

When Unsung Heroes ride on Harley Davidson

Never judge a book by its cover

Listen to the story

Or read the story written by Erika M Szabo

The deafening rumble of powerful engines echoed through the stillness of the night as the Panthers rode their Harleys through town toward their favorite bar. The moon, full and luminous, hung low in the sky, casting an eerie glow on the rugged faces of the riders. Their leather-clad bodies were silhouetted against the darkness, their tattoos and scars illuminated by the moon’s pale light.

With practiced ease, they killed the engines and dismounted their bikes. Raven, the gang’s robust leader, took off his helmet and shook his head. His long, jet-black hair swung to his back, covering the black panther painting on his leather jacket. “I’ll go through the back door,” he said, turning to his second in command, Jackal, his voice sounding deeper than a panther’s purr. “I need to talk to Pedro.”

Jackal let out a deep, guttural grunt. He was a tall, lanky man with dark hair and a scruffy beard. His voice was rough and strained, the result of a brutal bar fight that left his vocal cords permanently damaged. He hated speaking, the sound of his own voice reminding him of the painful incident. And he cringed at the thought of his friends jokingly telling others, “You should’ve seen the other guy!” The guilt of knowing that he had caused someone to lose his life in the fight weighed heavily on Jackal’s conscience. Although not his fault, the drunk man attacked him, cutting his throat, and he acted in defense, the man died, hitting his head on the pool table when Jackal pushed him away. The memory still haunted him like a shadow that he could never escape.

Stubby, the compact and sturdy member of the gang, let out a deep exhalation. “I hope he has some good news for us,” he said, his voice laced with tension. “It’s been two days since we heard the Hyenas had crossed the border with a new shipment, and we still don’t know where their hiding place is.”

Raven let out a heavy sigh as he approached the corner of the building. Each step caused small pebbles to crunch under his sturdy boots.

As he peeked through the open back door, Raven spotted his informant hunched over the sink. He motioned to him discreetly, and Pedro nodded in response, quickly glancing around to ensure they were not being watched. With cautious movements, Pedro made his way toward the door, holding onto a large garbage bag.

Raven waited for him behind the garbage container. “Did you find out?” he asked the fidgety man.

Growing up in the vibrant streets of Mexico, Pedro was all too familiar with the dangerous activities of human trafficker gangs, called hyenas. His cousin had been pressuring him to join their gang since he was just a teenager, promising him a life of wealth and power. But when he met Maria, she showed him that there was another way out - a chance to escape poverty and break free from a life of crime. Together, they bravely crossed the treacherous border and made their way to a small town in America where they found jobs and rented an apartment in the bustling Latino community. Pedro kept his ears open and listened closely as drunkards at the local bar spoke about the dark dealings of the notorious gangs. He knew he had made the right choice by following Maria, and now he was determined to make a better life for both of them while helping others who didn’t see a way out.

“I heard that there is an abandoned house about five miles from here deep in the woods,” Pedro whispered, his eyes darting nervously toward the door. “I’m not sure if the gang is hiding there or not, but I know that the guy who talked about the house is their connection on the US side. He takes care of the sales. He was well liquored up on tequila and kept blubbering about the house and that the family who lived there a hundred years ago were killed.”

“It’s possible,” Raven mused, his voice low and gravelly. “Thanks for the information, Pedro. You’re one step closer to joining us.” He raised his fist for a bump, sealing their partnership with a resounding thud.

The stocky man’s face beaming with joy hurried back to the kitchen.

Raven entered the bar through the front door and found his gang at their usual table in the far corner. “We have a possible location. Finish your drinks and let’s get going.” Raven informed his comrades.

The five members of the Panthers understood the gravity and urgency of their mission - to rescue innocent teenagers and young children from the clutches of ruthless human traffickers, who sought to sell them as commodities for sexual exploitation.

With fierce determination in their eyes, they raced toward the abandoned house on the outskirts of town, their roaring engines leaving a trail of dust and adrenaline in their wake. Although people in town were used to their presence, and they never heard anything bad about them, the fear that something might happen always left them with unease when they heard the roaring engines.

The scent of gasoline and leather lingered in the air, adding to the intensity of their presence and the darkness seemed to part before them as if even nature itself knew not to stand in their way. As they reached the dirt road in the woods, Raven raised his hand in a commanding gesture, signaling for his comrades to halt.

With practiced ease, they killed the engines, dismounted their bikes, and hid them in the thick bushes.

“We go the last mile on foot,” Raven instructed his men. “No guns, until we’re forced to use them,” he said.

“Fists and knives,” Stubby added, and the group murmured in agreement.

They moved forward with silent, calculated steps. The air was heavy with anticipation and danger, each member acutely aware of the risk they were taking. As they crept closer, shadows seemed to dance around them, adding to the sense of danger.

With firm determination in their eyes and weapons at the ready, their hearts burned with righteous anger, knowing that they were the only hope for these helpless souls. Since they were honorably discharged from the armed forces six years ago, at first, they had a hard time adjusting to civilian life. Later, Raven and Jackle opened a car repair shop, Doc became a veterinarian. Pokerface, the always stoical looking yet highly emotional friend opened a Dojo and taught self-defense.

The air was thick with tension and adrenaline as they prepared to put an end to this heinous operation. They spotted a large van parked in the clearing as they cautiously approached the rundown house. Its black exterior blended with the night sky, but its chrome bumpers glistened in the moonlight. Crouching low, they peered from behind the vehicle to see a guard stationed by the door. His posture was tense as he held a sleek machine gun at the ready. In the flickering light streaming from a nearby window, they could hear faint sounds of children crying and men shouting from inside the house. The hair on their necks prickled with a sense of danger and urgency as they plotted their next move.

Jackal glanced at Raven, who gave a subtle nod of approval. The lanky man dropped to his hands and knees, moving with the grace and precision of a stalking animal. He slinked through the shadows, keeping his body low and silent as he crept towards the unsuspecting guard.

When he was within a few feet of the man, Stubby made a slight noise by tossing a small rock toward the corner of the house. The guard, startled by the sound, turned his head in that direction. Taking advantage of the distraction, Jackal sprang forward with lightning speed and wrapped his arms around the guard’s neck in a chokehold. With his other large hand covering the guard’s mouth and nose, he effectively silenced any potential screams for help.

Without hesitation, the rest of the bikers sprang into action. In a flurry of movement and precision, they made their way silently to the door. Doc, whose occupation as a veterinarian had provided him with some interesting skills, quickly punctured the guard’s neck with the needle attached to a syringe filled with a powerful animal tranquilizer. As his body went limp, Jackal eased him down against the wall while Stubby secured his wrists and ankles with strong duct tape. The operation had gone flawlessly so far, but they knew they still had to move quickly and quietly to ensure their actions inside just as smoothly.

Guns at the ready, their eyes flicked to Raven for a signal. With a swift kick, he sent the door crashing off its hinges and tumbling into the vast room with a resounding thud. The six men, dressed in sleek black leather outfits, poured into the space like an unstoppable force. Inside, three burly men stood guard over a group of frightened children, their hands reaching for their weapons but halted by Raven’s firm voice. “Game over, boys. Hands up!” The tension in the air was palpable as the two groups faced off, guns pointed and hearts racing.

With a fierce cry, one of the men launched himself at Raven, only to be met with the hard metal of his gun hitting the man between his brows. The heavily tattooed man crumpled to the floor, dazed and defeated. Stubby wasted no time in springing into action, deftly pulling out the roll of duct tape from his pocket. The other two men looked on, wide-eyed and fear evident in their rapid Spanish chatter. Raven calmly gestured towards them, and his men moved quickly to hold them down while Stubby skillfully bound their hands and feet with the tape, rendering them immobile and powerless. Every move was executed with precision and efficiency, a testament to their years of training.

Pokerface towered over the two bandits, listening to their pleas for mercy in rapid Spanish. They were sweating and shaking, their eyes wide with terror as they begged for their freedom. But Pokerface only chuckled, causing the men to stop and stare at him in confusion. “No, boys,” he said firmly, his voice laced with amusement. “The town’s sheriff won’t be giving you a free pass. In fact, he will never see you.” The men’s faces fell in despair as they realized their fate. “Yes, you’re going back home,” Pokerface declared with his usual stoic face and neutral voice.

The bandits’ pleas became more frantic, but the gang paid them no mind. “I know,” Doc had enough and said calmly. “The prisons back there are hardly five-star hotels. And who knows if you’ll even make it there alive.” He shrugged nonchalantly as if their potential death sentence meant nothing to him. “But hey, you knew the risks when you took up a life of crime. We have no sympathy for you.”

As the bandits continued to plead and beg, Doc’s attention shifted to Raven who had approached a group of children. Despite the tense situation at hand, his face was gentle as he spoke to the young ones, offering them comfort and safety in the chaos surrounding them.

The eight young children, boys and girls, from ages three to nine huddled together in the corner of the dimly lit room. Their eyes were wide with fear as they watched the strange, scary-looking men in front of them wearing leather outfits with black panthers painted on the back of their jackets. The sound of their heavy footsteps echoed off walls, causing the children to shrink further into the corner. Raven crouched down before them with a reassuring smile on his face. As he spoke calmly in Spanish, the children’s faces softened, and they began to relax. Trust slowly crept into their eyes as Raven promised to get them home safely.

With a sense of determination, Raven stood up and dialed his contact in Mexico. “We have four hyenas and eight young children,” he spoke rapidly in Spanish. After receiving instructions from his contact, Raven turned to the children and smiled again. “You’re going home,” he assured them. Despite their fear and confusion, the children couldn’t help but feel hopeful as they followed Raven out of the dark room and toward safety.

***

A decade had passed since Pedro joined them and the Panthers gathered around their usual table in their favorite bar. Time had etched deep wrinkles around their eyes and peppered their hair with streaks of grey, but their spirits were still as strong as ever. They sat together, discussing their latest, successful mission, when Raven let out a heavy sigh. “It’s never going to end,” he said wearily. “We take one gang out, and in no time, another one pops up to take their place.”

The others nodded sadly in agreement, lost in their own thoughts, when a young man and woman approached their table. The man had a wide smile on his round face and held tightly onto the woman’s hand. “My name is Juan, and this is my wife, Alejandra,” he introduced himself with genuine warmth.

Raven gestured for them to have a seat at their table. As they sat down, Juan continued speaking. “You may not remember us, but we will never forget you,” he said, tears glistening in his eyes. “Ten years ago, you rescued us not far from here. Thanks to your help, we were reunited with our families in Mexico.” His voice shook with emotion as he spoke.

The bikers looked at each other questioningly, unsure of who these strangers were until Juan explained further. “We were just kids when you saved us,” he said, looking at each of the weathered faces before him. “Because of you, we have grown up in our families.” He paused for a moment before adding, “Because of you, instead of being a sex slave of the rich, I’m going to start medical school in the fall with my fiancée. Thank you for all that you do!”

As they listened to Juan’s words and saw the gratitude shining in his eyes, Raven and his men shared a silent exchange that conveyed without words: it was worth it. All of the struggles and sacrifices they faced as members of the Panthers gang were worth it to see the positive impact, they had on the children’s lives they saved.

Raven sighed and with a smile on his face reached across the table and held Juan’s hand. “Just don’t tell anyone about this, son. We can only do this if we stay in the background.”

People in town viewed them as bored middle-aged men having fun riding their Harleys and getting drunk in the bar. If only they knew what they did and were not expecting any reward or recognition, these unsung heroes would be celebrated by many.

Read more

 Intriguing, bone-chilling, heartwarming, and thought-provoking short stories by various genre authors in the What If? #3 Anthology. 
https://books2read.com/u/m27NQd

Monday, December 9, 2024

Eye of the Jaguar

 A story from the What If? Anthology

Martina Crestada focused her binoculars and looked down into the cenote, one of the sinkholes riddling the karst landscape of the Yucatan peninsula. The building storm clouds scuttled across the face of the moon making it flicker like a guttering candle.

“Philip, hold the flashlight still, this one isn’t filled with water and there’s a carved altar stone in the center.”

He balanced his flashlight on the cenote’s rim to steady it. Philip lived to make Martina happy. While he’d become fascinated with Mesoamerican history and lore, his love of Martina was the primary reason he’d majored in Mayan culture and the only reason he’d joined this archeological expedition.

“Martina, we’d best hurry, the clouds are building. I smell rain and we’re an hour from camp. It’s dangerous at night. Ocelots, jaguars, and wolves, oh my!”

Martina pointed her flashlight upward from under her chin ensuring Philip could see her look of disgust. “Don’t be a crybaby. I see an altar stone on the bottom. There’s writing, but I can’t read it. Red veins. Could be iron oxide. Maybe blood. How exciting! Philip, I hope they’re bloodstains!”

“I’ll record the GPS reading and tell the guide we’re ready to leave. We’ll come back tomorrow.”

 The guide screamed. He pointed at a jaguar skulking quietly as a gentle breeze and shouted “B’alam! B’alam!” The beast moved nearer the explorers and pinned them against the pit’s edge. Philip was unarmed, he had a flashlight, a pocketknife, and a pith helmet like the explorers wear in a Tarzan movie.  

The jaguar's eyes glowed like red coals. Philip froze in place. The cat charged without warning and Philip threw his helmet like a flying disk and hit the jaguar in the shoulder. He shoved Martina to one side and stepped backward away from the leaping cat. He struggled futilely for purchase on the crumbling pit edge. He fell into the cenote and the jaguar flew over his head and into the pit with him. They both screamed all the way down.

Philip woke up on the decayed leaves that dotted the altar stone. He felt his left arm. Shit, broken. Dark down here. Where’s my damn flashlight?”

Martina shouted, “Philip!”

“I’m alive. Broken, but alive.”

“I’ll send the guide for help.”

“Have them bring a harness. Pretty sure my arm is broken. I can’t climb out. The air is stale, and it stinks of rotten fruit.”

“Is the jaguar, or should I say, the B’alam, dead? We can practice speaking Mayan until help comes.”

Philip found his flashlight. The jaguar draped the altar stone like a praying supplicant. Chiseled images of cats, snakes, and wolves appeared and vanished with the sweeping of the flashlight’s beam. Philip crept slowly to the jaguar and gently touched its throat seeking a pulse.

The creature opened its eyes, snarled, and bit Philip’s arm. He tried to jerk away and cursed. “Christ, damn thing bit me. Probably has rabies!” He searched the altar with his free hand, the one attached to a broken arm. He caught a brief vision of an obsidian knife stored in a cubbyhole. He gritted his teeth against the pain, stretched for the knife, and stabbed the jaguar in the neck. The creature released his arm. He wiggled the knife until the glow in the beast’s eyes faded to darkness. Their blood mingled and flowed into the red-stained cracks atop the limestone altar. The stench of rotted fruit grew overpowering. Philip couldn’t breathe, he gasped, staggered back from the altar, his head spun, and he passed out.

The pain from the jaguar bite or his broken arm woke him. Flickering torchlight and rancid smoke filled the cenote. Several men, costumed in ancient Mayan ceremonial regalia, filled the cavern. He shouted for Martina. She didn’t answer, but above him, the pit’s edge was lined with women and children.

The quiet was frightening. It was like the silent moment in a horror film before all hell breaks loose. Philip remembered from a class on negotiation that the person who speaks first, loses. He couldn’t stand it. The people just stared at him.

Read the full story in the book: 

https://books2read.com/u/m27NQd

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. 

Tuesday, November 20, 2018

Carnie Loves Books in the Spotlight at #OurAuthorGang

Hi there, Toi here. 
I’m so excited to share with you today, my new children’s book, Carnie Loves Book.
Amazon.com
Carnie the Bookworm is an original creation I made to act as mascot and diplomat to the pursuit of a life-long dream; plus, I think he's really cute. I love to read books, write books, review books, read reviews about books, watch videos about books, and so much more. I know there are other people out there who love books as much as I do, but I created Carnie so I could have a willing and ready friend to travel this road with me at all times, that's when I decided I needed a bookworm by my side. Since Carnie Loves Books just as much as I do, I knew he'd be perfect.

Here's the blurb
Carnie is a bookworm with one love in his life- books. When Carnie loses his reading glasses, he goes on a search to find them. Read along as Carnie searches for his glasses and professes his love for reading books. 100% of proceeds supports Lit Carnivale, a book fair in the making.

Check out my “Meet Carnie the Bookworm” video here.
If you liked this, please consider following the Carnie the Bookworm YouTube channel. I hope to add more Carnie content and other stuff there very soon. 

Find out more about me, my work, and my inspiration at the following links:

Amazon | Goodreads The ToiBox of Words | YouTube | See a list of my other posts here.

Click here to read more posts at our Blog Post Gallery

COMMENTS

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Erika M Szabo

2 months ago  -  Shared publicly
Carnie is cute and he already have his YouTube channel. Congrats to your new book Toi :)
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Ruth de Jauregui via Google+

2 months ago  -  Shared publicly
Toinette Thomas shares her new character and sidekick, Carnie the Bookworm, with #OurAuthorGang. A book, a YouTube channel, Toi and Carnie have got it going on! Check them out!!
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Ruth de Jauregui

2 months ago  -  Shared publicly
Oh he is adorable!! And congratulations on your new book!
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Chris Weigand

2 months ago  -  Shared publicly
Cute.
 
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Chris Weigand via Google+

2 months ago  -  Shared publicly
Meet Carnie the Bookworm.
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Cindy Smith shared this via Google+

2 months ago  -  Shared publicly
 
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Joe Bonadonna

2 months ago  -  Shared publicly
Congratulations, Toi -- this is wonderful!
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Thank you.

+Toi Thomas -- you're welcome!


Joe Bonadonna via Google+

2 months ago  -  Shared publicly
Today on #OurAuthorGang, author Toinette Thomas introduces us to Carnie the bookworm and her wonderful new children's book. Congratulations, Toi!
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Toi Thomas via Google+

2 months ago  -  Shared publicly
Today, I introduce my new children's book and lovable character. #OurAuthorGang
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Tricia Drammeh

2 months ago  -  Shared publicly
This looks like an excellent book, Toi, and Carnie is adorable!!! 😍😍😍
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Glad you think so. I was afraid it was just me.


Tricia Drammeh via Google+

2 months ago  -  Shared publicly
Yay! It's a new children's book by Toi Thomas... Just in time for the holidays! Read all about it!
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