Sunday, January 5, 2025

Book Sunday

 Today's recommendation is a supernatural fantasy




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

Prologue

Cordelia, the high priestess of the Ravenwood Coven, stood in front of the altar lighting the candles one by one. The room was dark, and the flickering candlelight cast eerie shadows on the walls. Her hair was pulled into a bun, and her statuesque figure hid under her long, hooded cape. She held her arms high, reciting a prayer.

Lady of the Moon

Let my mind be attuned

I need your guidance

Lord of the Sunrise

Hear my humble cries

I need your guidance.

Cordelia flipped her long cape, turned around with three silver goblets on a tray, and stared for a long moment at the nervous-looking young women and man sitting side by side. Her stern expression sent deep shivers down their spines. She reached them with a few small steps and stood over them before handing them the goblets. “Drink!” Her booming voice filled the room.

Olivia, a slender, dark-haired young woman; Candice, the athletic-built blonde; and Dorian, a dark-haired young man, exchanged nervous glances. They took the goblets with shaky hands, lifted them to their lips and drank the ruby red liquid. Their expressions changed. They seemed to be in a deep trance.

The High Priestess watched the trio for a minute and then asked, “Do you wish to become apprentices of the Ravenwood Coven?

“Yes, I do,” came the reply from the three young acolytes in unison.

“Do you promise to follow the Coven rules and promise to practice only white magic?”

“Yes, I do,” the three answered.

“Do you promise to be loyal to the coven and its members, and promise not to compete with each other or be jealous of others?”

“Yes, I do,” Olivia and Dorian replied without hesitation, but Candice’s answer came a second later: “I’ll try.”

Cordelia drew a sharp breath. I’ll give her a chance because her grandmother is an Elder, but I’ll keep a close eye on her. She clapped her hands, and the young acolytes snapped out of the trance, looking a little dazed and confused.

“Welcome to Ravenwood Coven,” Cordelia announced. “You’re now apprentices. It will be a long road, and the next months will not be easy. You will study and practice hard before you can become witches and a warlock. Good luck to you all.”

Chapter One

When Olivia passed the entry exam and was accepted as an apprentice into the Coven, it was the best day of her life. Her father and grandmother had been preparing her since she was a little girl, despite the objection of her mother. Her parents were happy together and lived in harmony, except for occasional fights between them about the family tradition.

Her mother, Gloria, objected. “Why does she have to be a witch? I’m not, and we’re happy!”

“Because this is our family tradition, and you knew it when you married me. Remember?” Xavier, Olivia’s father, patiently replied.

“Why did you marry me? You knew I was different and never wanted anything to do with witchcraft.”

“Because the blue butterfly told me,” Xavier said.

“A what? Are you losing your mind?” Gloria asked, feeling alarmed and concerned.

“I never told you this…because I never wanted you to look at me the way you’re looking at me now.” He bowed his head and swallowed hard. He then looked into his wife’s eyes and continued, “My family is protected by guardians, and they communicate with us by making different colored butterflies appear to show us the right path. The blue butterfly they sent me the day I met you was to show me that we were soulmates.”

 “That’s so sweet! Scary, but sweet. And yes, we are soulmates, darling. But I don’t remember seeing a butterfly,” she said, staring at her husband.

“Only we can see them. They function as detectors of people’s intentions. You’re a good, honest, and loyal person. That’s why the guardians showed me the blue butterfly.”

“Aw… But still, Olivia doesn’t have to be a witch,” she protested weakly, folding her arms across her chest.

“I told you before we got married that our children will join the Coven when they turn eighteen, and you agreed,” Xavier argued.

“Yes, but…but I was hoping you’d change your mind,” his wife replied in a quieter tone of voice. “Okay, okay! It’s just… I don’t have to like it.”

“You should be proud of her, honey. She did very well on the entry exam. She’ll be a great witch.”

“I’m proud of her, and I know she wants to follow in your footsteps. It’s just, I had a different future in mind for her. She loves science, and I was hoping she might want to follow that path.”

“And she will. She can be a great scientist or researcher, and a witch, too.”

***

Candice enjoyed being popular and never really wanted to become a witch, but because her grandmother insisted, she applied for the apprenticeship. Her mother was absent most of the time, following fleeting dreams and ideas. The only steady person in Candice’s life was her grandmother.

Although Candice passed the entry test, which made her grandmother happy, she was more interested in partying than studying spells and potions. The idea of following the strict rules and studying all the time bored her, but her interest flared when she found out Dorian had joined the Coven as well.

She preferred partying with the athletic boys of the football team, but when she noticed that Olivia and Dorian were developing more than a friendship, she grew jealous of their closeness and quiet happiness. She wanted to be happy like them; she wanted him. She tried starting conversations with him, asked him to go to a party with her, and asked him to study potions and spells with her. Dorian gave her a polite excuse every time.

Feeling frustrated, Candice confided in her grandmother. “They’re spending all their free time together and started dating! How could he like her? She’s so plain and weird. Okay, she’s a caring person, but still. I’m a cheerleader and the prettiest girl in school. How could he not like me?”

“You’re the prettiest, love,” her grandmother cooed, hugging her. “He’s interested in her, so leave them be. There are other boys. Looks like the family curse follows you too like a shadow.” Her grandmother sighed.

“What curse?” Candice asked.

“We’re cursed with always wanting what we can’t have.”

“No, Grandma! I want him! I want him to go on a date with me, to return my feelings. I want to be his girlfriend, but no, he had to ask Olivia, sweet and boring Olivia. All she cares about is school and being boring. I’m popular and full of zest for life. What does she have that I don’t have?”

“Nothing, dear. She’s just a plain and boring girl, just like her grandma was. They make a good pair; Dorian is not an interesting person either. Even if he’d have asked you out instead of Olivia, you’d grow bored with him in no time.”

“No, Grandma. I want him! I’ll find a way to make him fall in love with me.”

“And, the family curse continues...” the old lady muttered under her breath, feeling sad and frustrated.

Chapter Two

Candice and Olivia were seniors in high school, and both came from a long line of witches and warlocks. They hadn’t really spoken to each other before they both became acolytes of the Ravenwood Coven. Candice was a beautiful and popular cheerleader, always wearing colorful clothes. Olivia was a shy loner, always dressed in black. Candice hung out with the cheerleaders and often humiliated Olivia publicly, or sometimes she posted degrading things about Goth people on social sites to make fun of her.

They were warned by the High Priestess not to tell anyone about the Coven. They kept it a secret, and Candice rarely talked to Olivia in school. She spoke to her only when she needed her help. One day, at lunch, Candice surprised Olivia by approaching her at the geek table. As Candice sat down, Olivia watched the brown-winged butterfly hovering over her head. She’s a bad person. Dad warned me about the brown butterfly people. I must be cautious, she thought.

Candice leaned closer to Olivia and said in a hushed tone, “I’m in trouble! I didn’t have time to practice, and we’ll have to perform a protection spell tonight. You have to help me.”

Olivia looked at her in disbelief. “You didn’t practice? Studying for school and memorizing the spell and ritual kept me up half the night.”

“We had cheerleading practice, and after that, we went to a party. I was too tired. Being a cheerleader is a commitment, and sometimes it’s not easy to keep up with the others. You always have to pretend to be chipper and happy, even when you’re not. And you always have to do everything as a group. I couldn’t just tell the girls that I needed to study a magical protection spell, now could I? Besides, we had so much fun last night. The football team joined us.” Candice smiled, and her blonde ponytail bounced as she shifted in her seat impatiently.

“I can imagine. Maybe I should have joined the cheerleading squad instead of the science lab,” Olivia said sarcastically.

“You know you wouldn’t have made it. You’re not flexible enough… and a Plain Jane like you wouldn’t be accepted, anyway.” Candice turned away, muttering.

Her mocking tone hurt Olivia’s feelings. She knew Candice didn’t care about her; she just tolerated her and used her, but she couldn’t say no. “Okay, I’ll help you.” She helped Candice memorizing the spell at recess, and the day went by quickly.

***

On the way home Olivia was thinking about her growing feelings for Dorian. She first saw him when his family moved to town to be closer to his ailing grandmother when they were in the ninth grade. She liked him and secretly hoped that one day he’d like her back. But deep down she never thought he would like a girl like her, until recently, when he joined the science club and was accepted into the Coven. He was nice to Olivia and didn’t care about how she looked. They had become best friends. He was interested in the genuine person she was.

Her heart warmed every time she saw him, and she fantasized about him a lot. One day when they were in tenth grade, she was going home from the store and saw him in his Grandma’s driveway next door. He was working on his car, leaning over the engine, under the hood. Olivia was too busy gawking at him and dropped her bag while taking the paper out of the mailbox. He had looked up, startled by the loud thud.

“Are you okay?” he’d asked, concerned.

“No, I’m fine, just dropped my bag. What are you working on?”

“Changing the oil. Mom and I came over to clean Grandma’s house.”

“Is she home from the hospital?”

“We’re going to bring her home tomorrow. She had a hip replacement.”

“Yes, my mom told me.”

“Hey, would you like to go for a cup of coffee after I finish the oil change and get cleaned up?” he’d asked.

He’d always been friendly, but Olivia hadn’t expected him to ask her out and felt the heat rising to her face. “Are you asking me to go on a date?” She didn’t really believe her ears.

He cocked his head. “It’s about time, don’t you think? Or if you don’t want to go out with me…” He left the sentence open and looked at her questioningly. 

Olivia had smiled, feeling and looking embarrassed. “Yes… I mean… Okay,” she stuttered but quickly came to her senses. “I have a few things to do, but we can go to Karen’s shop in about an hour for coffee and cake.” She didn’t want him to think she was a desperate loner who’d been fantasizing about that moment for a long time.

“She makes the best lemon poppy cupcakes with vanilla frosting.” Dorian had smiled and turned back to the car.        

Olivia had nodded and hurried inside before she could manage to make herself look foolish.

One date and bonding over cupcakes had led to more dates. They enjoyed each other’s company, and they spent as much time together as they could. They took long walks by the river, and he helped her collecting herbs in the woods. Dorian’s grandmother, a retired witch, as she often called herself, was an Elder of the Ravenwood Coven. She was happy when Dorian decided to follow her. His mother never showed interest in joining the Coven. She divorced Dorian’s dad when he was very young, and he rarely visited but once or twice a year.

Dorian knew Olivia’s father and grandmother practiced witchcraft. He asked them to help his mother after his grandmother told him it was beyond her knowledge, and the doctors were puzzled by her mysterious illness that left her weak and tired all the time. Olivia’s dad and grandma had performed cleansing and healing rituals, making Dorian’s mother healthy.

When Olivia told Dorian she wanted to be an apprentice, he was eager to know more. She told him about white magic, and he decided to apply for apprenticeship in the Coven as well. Their friendship deepened and bloomed. When he confessed his love for her, and they shared their first kiss, Olivia watched as a blue butterfly flapped its wings above them. I know he’s a good person, but could he really be my soulmate? Well, the guardians didn’t lie before… 

Continue reading or listen to the audiobook:



Erika M Szabo

https://authorerikamszabo.com

Erika loves to dance to her own tunes and follow her dreams, introducing her story-writing skills and her books that are based on creative imagination with themes such as magical realism, alternate history, urban fantasy, cozy mystery, sweet romance, and supernatural stories. Her children’s stories are informative and educational and deliver moral values in a non-preachy way.

Friday, January 3, 2025

Can AI Replace Human Writers?

 Is AI getting too smart for our own good?

Lately, there has been talk about authors using AI to "write" books and self-publish them. So, I decided to read a story created by AI and self-published by an "author."

My findings:

While the writing is technically sound and grammatically correct, and the story presents an interesting plot, I found that it lacks a human touch in conveying the characters' feelings and personalities. Although the characters are well-described, the writing noticeably lacks imagination, vivid descriptions, and originality. This issue is becoming increasingly common in many creative industries, with the rise of AI-generated books only amplifying the problem.

AI's reliance on existing texts often results in derivative ideas that may already exist elsewhere. This can lead to less engaging and impersonal content that fails to capture the reader's attention, and it may even risk unintentional plagiarism.

The Ethical Side of AI-Generated and AI-Assisted Writing

There is an ongoing debate about the morality of using AI to write and publish books and whether using a writing assistant to edit and polish a manuscript is appropriate. 

Distinction Between AI-Generated and AI-Assisted Content

Content created entirely by pressing a single button with the help of AI technology is typically of low quality and likely yields a subpar reading experience. This type of content is classified as AI-generated. In contrast, AI-assisted content uses AI-powered tools as a co-pilot in the writing process, supporting rather than fully creating the material.

Changes in Traditional Publishing

As AI book writers begin to flood the market, the traditional publishing model is undergoing changes. Editors, proofreaders, and self-publishing companies are increasingly offering options to incorporate AI into the manuscript process based on budget and time constraints. Is this the right approach?

Market Saturation

The growing number of AI authors may lead to an abundance of published works. However, quantity does not always equate to quality. With the ease of creating and publishing AI-generated books, the market may become overcrowded with titles that lack significant value.

Decreased Reader Interest

Given the vast array of books available, readers may feel overwhelmed and lose interest. Regardless of whether a book is created by AI or humans, poor-quality content is easily recognizable. However, if you invest your heart and soul into crafting exceptional stories within your niche, your work will stand out for all the right reasons, even in a saturated market.

Legal Implications

I am curious about the legal aspects of publishing a book solely created by AI. Currently, it is unclear whether copyright protection can be granted to content that is 100% AI-generated. Who would claim copyright in this case? Would it be the AI, or the human who uploaded the work without having written it?

My Conclusion

I choose not to use AI in my writing process because I enjoy writing and expressing my creativity through storytelling. However, once I complete my story, I do utilize software to check grammar, sentence flow, and identify overused words. In my opinion, even the best editing software cannot replace the need for a human editor. Therefore, I also hire an editor to perform a final review of my books before publishing.

What is your opinion as a creative writer? 

Would you publish a story you didn't write?

What is your opinion as a reader?

Would you prefer stories written by AI?

Erika M Szabo

https://authorerikamszabo.com

Erika loves to dance to her own tunes and follow her dreams, introducing her story-writing skills and her books that are based on creative imagination with themes such as magical realism, alternate history, urban fantasy, cozy mystery, sweet romance, and supernatural stories. Her children’s stories are informative and educational and deliver moral values in a non-preachy way.

Wednesday, January 1, 2025

Happy New Year

 Happy New Year to all our readers

In the Western world, we mark the start of a new year on January 1st, thanks to Julius Caesar and his Julian calendar implemented in 45 B.C. The month of January is named after Janus, the Roman deity with two faces - one looking towards the future, the other towards the past. He presided over new beginnings, endings, and transitions - symbolized by doorways and passages.

As the old year fades, and the new one draws near,
We gather together, to spread love and cheer.
With a heart full of hope, love, and dreams,
Wishing you happiness, good health, and peace.

Wishing you a happy, healthy, and successful New Year!

The blog authors

As the New Year approaches, I’ve decided to abandon my usual (and futile) resolution of cutting out sweets. Instead—thanks to my husband’s gentle nudge—I’m embracing a new one: “Feed your mind,” he always says, “immerse yourself in something positive and enlightening.” This year, I’m taking his advice to heart. It’s time to trade my endless binge-watching of conspiracy theory videos for something more uplifting. Not only will this likely bring clarity, but as a writer, I’m hopeful it might spark fresh inspiration. To my wonderful readers and fellow writers: may your New Year be filled with creativity and success. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for your incredible support over the years!

Erika M Szabo

https://authorerikamszabo.com

As I entered my thirties, I made the decision to stop setting New Year's resolutions. I realized that every year, no matter how determined I was at first, I only stuck to my resolutions for a few short weeks before reverting back to old habits.  Instead, I set small goals every morning that bring me joy and motivation and reflect on my accomplishments each evening to keep a positive outlook. The start of a new year brings with it new challenges and opportunities for growth, but I approach them with a sense of excitement and determination rather than overwhelming pressure to stick to strict resolutions. To my readers, I wish you a happy, healthy, and successful New Year, and thank you for your continuous support and encouragement. 

I must confess, I’m not a great one for New Year’s resolutions. So, the reality is it’ll be a New Year, same old me situation. Any attempts at self-improvement will be in dribs and drabs rather than grand gestures doomed to fail.
I’m currently working on a second installment in the Emma Love mystery series. With the Winter Solstice in the rearview mirror, the mountains, the river, and my garden will soon beckon. Hopefully, the rabbits won’t eat all my vegetables this year.
As 2025 fades into history, I’d like to thank my readers for their loyalty in sticking with me on this journey. I appreciate sharing a tale or two with you. The campfires we share might be flameless, but that’s where many friendships and all good stories begin. Happy New Year!

R. A. “Doc” Correa

www.goldenboxbooks.com/ra-doc-correa.html

The next year holds lots of possibilities. I’m looking forward to spending time with my great-grandchildren and teaching them how to camp, do first aid, and many other skills. I’ve got four works in progress, including a collaboration with Rhonda, all of which I will make progress on. And at the top of the list, writing more short stories for the anthologies I’ve had the opportunity to be a part of.

Enjoy Our Song


Monday, December 30, 2024

She Waits

 A short story by Lorraine Carey

During a class field trip to a historical site in the Caribbean, a curious student encounters a lonely ghost who does not want her to leave.

The sun was just about to set as eight-year-old Mary Jane Eden watched its golden rays spread over the azure waters surrounding Grand Cayman as if to illuminate and warm the sea. She smiled and felt at ease as she sat in her weather-beaten rocker on the second floor of Pedro St. James Castle.  It had the best views on the island—it always did, that was until it had fallen into ruin in the 1950s. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky this late September evening. The mahogany wooden floor creaked as she rocked back and forth. The grounds people had left for the day—she knew their routine, after all, she’d been here since 1877. Since that time, she was bound to the property when she was struck by lightning on the steps of the plantation house as she and her brother went to fetch water in some buckets.

Before that, the castle was one of Grand Cayman’s most important historical properties, a place where democracy had taken place back in 1831 and later the governor of Jamaica had proclaimed the end of slavery in the British Empire. The three-story structure resembled that of a plantation solidly built with stone walls 18 inches thick. It was originally built by slaves and William Eden and his family resided there until his daughter was killed by a freak lightning strike during a tropical storm. It was then the family decided to move, leaving the castle to be later occupied as a bar and a restaurant, but only to become victim to two mysterious fires. The seven-and-a-half-acre property is surrounded by colorful bougainvillea and opulent poinciana trees.

The tourists had been sparse lately and Mary Jane wondered who would show up tomorrow. Maybe someone who would want to stay, maybe stay longer than the usual tour. Every day gave her new hope.

She wandered around the three-tier plantation checking to see if anyone was still there. She peered out of the thick louvered shutters once again checking the night sky for any hint of a storm. She went from room to room twirling around in her long white tattered dress. She decided to sit on the wooden rocking horse in one of the main bedrooms. It was a special gift she treasured from her father one Christmas. She rocked away until she became very sleepy.

***

“Now please, please, stay with your guide,” Mrs. Taylor urged. “If you get lost then it will reflect on Grand Island Elementary and we’ll never get an invitation to come back to visit,” she said, her tone firm.

She had been taking her sixth-grade class to Pedro St. James Castle for the past seven years on a field trip. It was scheduled every year by the principal urging local students and expat parents to work on the island to learn the history of the structure.

Mrs. Taylor tried to settle her students in hopes of gaining their interest, instead of posting videos on social media.

“Students, as you know in 1831 this island signed its first democracy papers and the government had been formed,” raved a tall elderly man who was the main docent for the tour. “My name is Mr. Dalton. You will first watch a movie on the history of the castle in our large theater room and then we will begin our live tour. And please remember to have your phones muted or turned off during the presentation.”

The students were all seated in the theater then the lights went out. There was only blackness as the big screen rolled down from the ceiling. A few of Mrs. Taylor’s students began to scream, but it was mostly the girls.

“Ssh!” Mrs. Taylor hissed, putting her finger up to her lips. 

“But, Mrs. Taylor, I’m scared, and I don’t like this place!” Jessa Franklin said, clinging to her teacher’s arm.

Dana Benson had her arm around Jessa, being they had been best friends since first grade. “It’s okay, Jessa. It’s just a movie.”

“I can walk her outside, Mrs. Taylor,” offered one of the parent volunteers.

“I’ll be okay, Mrs. Taylor,” Jessa said softly. “I’m going to be brave.”

“The movie will be over soon and then we’ll be out in the sunshine,” Mrs. Taylor assured. “You’ll feel better then.”

The movie began with the portrayal of the beautiful grounds that surrounded the castle as Robert Thompson, the governor from Jamaica held court inside where he issued a proclamation that ended slavery in the British Empire. Outside dark skies rolled in and thunder boomed as a fleet of pirate ships came ashore only to be met with an intense thunderstorm that now caused the castle to be shed in an eerie light. The loud booms caused the entire theater room to vibrate due to a state-of-the-art surround sound system. A misting system had been activated to sprinkle its audience giving them the full effect of the storm, not to mention the musty smell of a damp theater.

A voice echoed from the speakers, “What you are about to see is not for the faint of heart.”

Jessa grabbed Dana’s arm tightly. “I’m going to cover my eyes.”

A frightening portrayal of the storm that had taken the life of Mary Jane Eden, the daughter of William had commenced. Most of the students were silent as they watched bolts of lightning strike the child on the steps of the bottom landing as she and her brother attempted to fill buckets of rainwater.

When the movie screen rolled up, the lights came back on and everyone clapped, especially Jessa.

“Okay, students, now that you know the history of the plantation you’ll get a tour from our guides, Mr. Dalton informed.

“I’m glad, that’s over,” Jessa sighed as she wiped the sweat off her forehead while they walked outside. The bright sunlight hit their faces like a strobe light causing the students to squint. Jessa wasn’t the only one who was glad to be outside as the other students spoke of being spooked in the theater.

“Mrs. Taylor, can I use the restroom?” asked Dante Reed, the class troublemaker and attention seeker.

“Sure, and you know, I think we’ll all take a break before heading on with the tour. Please stay with your group. We’ll meet out by the main house when you’re done,” the middle-aged teacher said while pulling her long brown hair up into a high bun. She wiped the back of her neck with a handkerchief.

“Ya know, Dana, for some reason this place really gives me the creeps. Do you believe the stories about the slaves they kept in the basement and all the strange things that went on here?” Jessa asked while scanning over the lush grounds.

Continue reading in the Anthology


Sunday, December 29, 2024

Book Sunday

 Today's recommendation is a science fiction-space opera


Read a chapter

by R.A. "Doc" Correa

Prologue

“Shit, I’m going to be late!”

     Kathy hops out of the bathroom of her tiny flat, pulling up her pantyhose. She looks at them as she does. “Damn, I’ve got a run in them,” she growls at the streak on her right thigh. Maybe no one will notice. You’d think that with all this new technology, being able to travel among the stars, that someone could invent pantyhose that don’t run. She frowns at the thought. Kathy adjusts her skirt so the patch she sewed will be covered by her coat.

     Kathy looks in the mirror. Her dark-brown hair has a graying streak by her right temple, but her deep brown eyes are still bright and full of life despite everything. Everything—space battles, raids, sword fights—and all this time trying to raise a young girl among battle-hardened raiders. It’s amazing that all my hair isn’t gray.

     Her white blouse is fraying in places, so to keep it covered, Kathy puts on the leather bustier he gave her. It still fits like the first time she wore it. Her figure hasn’t changed much at all, even after having a baby.

     For a moment she thinks of him, a tear forms in her eye. Kathy rubs his wedding ring, which she wears on her ring finger. “No time for this!” she admonishes herself. Still, she can’t help seeing the dark-brown eyes, salt-and-pepper mustache, graying hair, and devilish smile—a smile Kathy sees every night in her dreams.

     Kathy looks around her flat. It’s small and sparsely furnished, barely enough room for the three of them, and she can’t even afford this. Still, it’s better than the cells the Americans kept her and the others in. The bastards, how dare they. There was a deal, a deal that has given them the edge in the current war, and they didn’t even try to keep their end of it.

     Since her “rescue” (that’s how the Americans touted it in the media when they released her, Cindy, and little James—the Americans rescued them from pirates), she’s been trying to get by. The brothers gifted her almost all their loot. It was washed very clean by it being passed through numerous corporations, off-planet banks, and other entities. But the Earth government, particularly the Americans, has kept it from being released to her, claiming it was the ill-gotten gain from piracy. Piracy, that’s almost funny; it didn’t seem like piracy at the time. Somehow it seemed like justice. Justice for those that were abandoned, justice for those who were senselessly slaughtered, justice for those enslaved.

     The truth is, the Americans don’t want it known what happened to the people they wouldn’t fight for, and the Chinese definitely don’t want the truth of what they’ve done to come out. They know more colonies will join the war against them.

     Oscar looks lazily at her from the table.

     “If you don’t have anything helpful to say, don’t say anything,” she says to the cat. He just rolls over, keeping his eyes on her and answers, Meow.

     “Thanks,” she replies mockingly. Oscar responds with his usual indifference. Kathy hears the cab honk for her and rushes out the door with her bag and coat. She waves bye to little James and shouts, “Thanks, Mrs. Fuji. I love you, James.”

     “Good luck, Kathy!” Mrs. Fuji shouts in reply. Little James waves and says, “Bye, Mommy.”

     “The Galactic Geographic building,” she tells the driver as she enters the cab. “Yes, ma’am,” the cabby replies as he swiftly cuts into traffic.

     The cab drops Kathy Masters off in front of the Galactic Geographic building. It’s been over eleven years since the last time she was here. It looks the same as it did the first time she saw it. But she is definitely not the same as when she first was here.

     She enters the lobby, walks to the lift, and pushes the call button.

     The last time Kathy was here, it was just her. A twenty-year-old gifted photographer being offered the chance of a lifetime, to photograph the creatures of a newly discovered planet before full colonization begins. Now it’s Kathy, her son James, and Cindy.

     The lift doors open. She enters and punches the button for the thirteenth floor. Her thoughts continue.

     Cindy, her adopted daughter, a very brash and creative sixteen-year-old. The two of them have been together since she was five, but she’s definitely not five now. They’ve been back on Earth for just over two years, and she’s proven to be quite a handful. Five times now, Kathy’s been called to school because she’s been fighting. Not the silly girl fights most high school girls have, no. She’s been kicking the butts of the boys in school, specifically the jocks. She likes fighting wrestlers and football players the most. One time, Kathy entered the principal’s office to find she had beaten and tied up three eighty-kilo linemen.

     And the capers she’s pulled off—a floating gambling ring at school, the fake-diamond scam, and her favorite, the Gibb switch. That one nearly got her arrested by the Feds. Yet whenever Kathy looks at her, she still sees the frightened five-year-old she shared a cell in the brig of the Rapier with—the young girl she raised among a crew of the roughest raiders in human space. Their princess, their daughter, their lovely child that they entrusted to Kathy to teach how to be a woman.

     The lift door opens, and Kathy steps out into the hallway.

     Kathy has tried to work as a photographer since she returned, but no one will hire her. They all look at her with the same expression, but it’s their eyes that tell the truth of what they are thinking. She’s a pirate, a thief, and a cutthroat. They all fear her. Good, she likes it that way. Who needs them anyway?

     But her heart hasn’t been in it. Still with the Feds holding her money, she’s broke. She can’t take care of little James, Cindy, and herself this way. So she’s decided to play her last card. The pics. I sure hope this is the time the gods spoke of, please let it be.

     Kathy walks into the Galactic Geographic offices, walks up to the receptionist, and announces, “Kathy Masters for Mr. Baker.”

     “One moment, Miss Masters,” the receptionist says coldly. Kathy can hear it in her voice, pirate. She can go to hell!

     The pictures, they’re all Kathy has left from those nine years. As difficult as they were, Kathy and Cindy think of them as the best of their lives, and she misses them. She misses all of them—especially him, Commodore Black.

     The receptionist says, “He’s ready for you, Miss Masters.” She points down the hall. It’s there again in her voice, pirate. But she’s not just any pirate—no, indeed. She’s the pirate that caused the war. She survived to tell part of the story—that and what was recovered with her was all it took. And now the colonies of seventeen nations are at war with the Chinese, and it’s been the most bloody of conflicts.

     Kathy knocks on the door. A man opens it. “Come in, Kathy. Please have a seat. How long has it been?”

     “Eleven years,” she replies. “Yes, I remember. I gave you the assignment for Beta 3 Epsilon. That was the beginning of your adventures.”

     “Yes, yes, it was,” Kathy says.

     “Well, what can I do for you?” She looks at him and can tell he plans to blow her off, just like the others. But she hasn’t shown him the pictures yet. Pictures and vids of life as a privateer, a life she never expected, a life unknown here on Earth.

     “I know it’s not your usual fare, Steve, but I have an exclusive for you. One I know your readers will eat up.” “Really, and what would that be?”

     “The exclusive story of my nine years on the Rapier. Logs, journals, and pics, plus vids.”

     “Pics of everyone?” he asks.

     “Yes, everyone.”

     “Even him?”

     “Him who?”

     “You know, him.”

     “Why can’t you people say his name?”

     “I don’t think that’s important.”

     “His name is Black. Commodore James Ulysses Black!” She is nearly shouting. “And he was the most decent man I ever knew!”

     “Yes, of course he was. But he was a pirate, the most infamous pirate captain since the Spanish Main.”

     “He was a husband, a father, and a good, decent man,” she snaps back. Steve Baker says nothing. Silence hangs between him and her for several moments. Then he says, “I really don’t think I can help you.”

     “You haven’t seen the pictures.”

     He looks at her a moment. “Okay, let’s see them.”

     Her holographic display projects a screen between her and Steve. She starts going through the pictures of life on the Rapier. Tears build up in her eyes. Kathy never realized how many pictures had Cindy in them—Cindy in the pilot’s seat of the Rapier with Captain Gibb at her side, Cindy in engineering learning about antimatter reactors, Cindy flying the shuttle under the instruction of Captain Rawls and Commodore Black teaching her the art of the sword.

     “That’s him?” Steve asks.

     “Yes,” she replies sadly.

     “He doesn’t look all that dangerous. Flamboyant to be sure. Stern certainly and yet grandfatherly, but not dangerous.”

     Kathy whispers, “Looks can be deceiving.”

     The next pic is Cindy and Kathy looking out the observation dome, watching the great whales near Pi Delta Epsilon. They look like the great whales of Earth, “swimming” in the gas clouds like it were water. The look of awe was on their faces. Steve stops.

     “You actually saw these?”

     “Yes, yes, we did. As a matter of fact, we swam with them, Steve.”

     “Swam with them?” Steve asks. Kathy brings up the next pic. Cindy sits atop the “whale” as Commodore Black swims beside them. “Yes, Steve, we swam with them.”

     Then the elusive “Dire Wolves” of Pi Beta 2. Cindy, in this pic a precocious twelve, sits atop one of the great predators with Commodore Black and Captain Gibb standing beside them.

     Steve whistles, “Your daughter really rode one of these?”

     “Yes,” she replies. “Actually, we all did.” Kathy brings up the next pic. Cindy, Captain Gibb, and Commodore Black race across the plain on the backs of wolves with the whole pack running around them.

     “People don’t believe they exist.”

     “They do.”

     “We’ll have to verify these aren’t manipulated.”

     “Of course,” she says.

     Then the next pic. “What are those?” he says truly surprised.

     “Those are gods,” she says to him.

     “Gods?” he asks.

     “Yes, the gods of the aquatic natives of Safe Port.”

     “We’ve been on Safe Port for eighty years now. No one has seen anything like this.”

     Kathy looks at the picture—she, Cindy, and Captain Gibb are in their deep suits, floating before the massive god of the nanchiks, the squidheads of Safe Port. The next pic shows the god sitting on its dais, with Cindy, Captain Gibb, and Commodore Black standing before it. The one after that shows the city of the gods as they approach it. She softly says, “No one has dived in the right place or deep enough to see them.”

     He thinks hard.

     “There’s more, you know,” Kathy tells him.

     “Okay, okay. I’ll pay you two hundred thousand plus half a percent of net sales, but that’s for the whole story.”

     “Of course,” she replies.

     Steve turns on his transcription bot then asks, “So how did it begin?”

     “Begin?” she mumbles. Kathy looks at him and says, “It began right here. It began when you offered me the job, gave me the tickets, and drove me to the shuttle port.”

R. A. “Doc” Correa

www.goldenboxbooks.com/ra-doc-correa.html

A retired US Army military master parachutist, retired surgical technologist, and retired computer scientist. He’s an award-winning poet and author. “Doc” has had poems published in multiple books and had stories published in Bookish Magazine and Your Secret Library. His first novel, Rapier, won a Book Excellence award and was given a Reader’s Favorite five-star review.


Friday, December 27, 2024

Oyster Wars

 History with a tasty oyster chowder recipe

Having written the blog post about Southern Maryland’s favorite seafood, the blue crab, I thought it appropriate to add another about our beloved bivalve, the oyster! I often wonder who the first brave soul was who shucked an oyster and thought, “That sure looks tasty.” Whoever they were, foodies everywhere owe them a debt of gratitude!

 Many folks are aware of the oyster's supposed aphrodisiac properties. Most know of its culinary delights, whether in an oyster stew, fried, scalded, or through fancy Oyster Rockefeller; the tasty morsels never fail to surprise the uninitiated.

Few know the entire political history of our humble seafood delicacy or the tragedies that required presidential intercession—the Oyster Wars.  Southern Maryland, and across the Potomac River near Colonial Beach, Virginia, was the epicenter of the Maryland/Virginia “Oyster Wars.” Fighting for limited resources, the combatants included oyster pirates, state authorities, and legal watermen. Most sources give the dates of these hostilities as beginning in 1865 and ending in 1962 when President John F. Kennedy signed the "Potomac Fisheries Bill.” This act established a bi-state commission to oversee the Potomac River. Even before this time, however, violent and competitive friction existed along the Potomac and Chesapeake waterways.

The demand for oyster harvesting exploded after the Civil War, with the Chesapeake Bay and its tributaries accounting for nearly fifty percent of the world's supply. This led to droves of New England fishermen encroaching on the southern waters after their oyster beds were depleted. Clandestine raids on the bay in the dark of night became the new norm. From a harvest high of 15 million bushels in the mid-1880s, the number dropped by a third in five short years.

   The wars manifested in three waves of tragedy bloodying Virginia and Southern Maryland’s waters. The conflict came to a head on April 17th, 1959, when a Maryland police boat fired upon a Virginia poacher’s oyster boat when it attempted to evade them. One of the oyster boat occupants (Berkeley Muse) yelled, “I’m hit,” and slumped over the boat’s culling board. The firing continued, and the boat’s captain, Harvey King, was hit in the leg. Rushing to shore, Muse died before the ambulance arrived. There was tremendous public outcry after the incident. This led to the disarming of the police force and eventually to John F. Kennedy’s Potomac Fisheries Commission. These actions effectively ended the bloody Oyster Wars.

OYSTER CHOWDER

INGREDIENTS

2 medium potatoes (diced)

2 pints Oysters (in their liquid)

2 ½ tablespoons Butter (unsalted)

1 medium onion (diced)

1 cup Heavy Cream

2 cups Milk

½ teaspoon Thyme

Old Bay Seasoning to taste (don’t skimp!)

 

DIRECTIONS

1. Place a sieve over a small bowl and pour the oysters through. Discard solids (grit or shell pieces) and save liquor.

2. Melt the butter in a saucepan over medium heat. Add the onions and potatoes, stirring for 2-3 minutes until they are slightly softened.

3. Turn the heat down to medium-low and add the strained oyster liquor, milk, cream, Old Bay seasoning, thyme, salt, and pepper. Heat slowly until it simmers.  Do not boil, or the milk will curdle.

4. Add the oysters to the broth and simmer for 2-3 minutes until the edges curl. You want the oysters to be tender. Overcooking will make them rubbery.

6. Enjoy!

David W. Thompson

https://www.david-w-thompson.com

David is a multiple award-winning author, Army veteran, and graduate of UMUC. He’s a multi-genre writer and a member of the Horror Writers’ Association, and the Science Fiction & Fantasy Writers Association. When not writing, Dave enjoys family, kayaking, fishing, hiking, hunting, winemaking, and woodcarving.

Thursday, December 26, 2024

Meet Author David W. Thompson

 David W. Thompson

https://www.david-w-thompson.com

David is a multi-genre writer, and a member of the Horror Writers' Association, and the Science Fiction & Fantasy Writers Association. When not writing, Dave enjoys family, kayaking, fishing, hiking, hunting, winemaking, and woodcarving.


David is a multiple award-winning author, an Army veteran, and a graduate of UMUC (now UMGC). He claims his first writing efforts were "Dick and Jane" fan fiction when he was a child- no doubt with a unique twist. As a multi-genre writer, he's been awarded membership in the HWA--Horror Writers' Association, the MWA--Mystery Writers of America, and the SFWA -- Science Fiction & Fantasy Writers Association. He lives in picturesque southern Maryland, blessed with nearby family and dear old friends.
After his family and cheesecake, reading was his first love. It was a gateway to the people, cultures, and ideas he would never experience otherwise. Writing was a natural extension of this "out-of-body" experience, as his characters acted as tour guides to their worlds and possibilities. He hopes to honestly convey the stories they've whispered in his ears.
When he isn't writing, Dave enjoys time with his family, kayaking (flat water, please), fishing, hiking, archery, gardening, winemaking, and pursuing his other "creative passion"- woodcarving.
Occasionally twisted...always honest and original!

Tuesday, December 24, 2024

Happy December Holidays

 Holidays celebrated in December


December, the chilling winter month, is known for its festive parties and celebrations. Some of these events are steeped in solemn tradition, while others focus on lighthearted merriment. Each holiday offers a unique perspective on various cultures, histories, and religions.

Since 1900, the first night of Hanukkah and Christmas fell on December 25 four times.

They Commemorate Different Historical Moments.

Christmas is the celebration of the birth of Jesus. The church in Rome began formally celebrating Christmas on December 25 in 336, during the reign of the emperor Constantine. As Constantine had made Christianity the effective religion of the empire, some have speculated that choosing this date had the political motive of weakening the established pagan celebrations. The date was not widely accepted in the Eastern Empire, where January 6 had been favored, for another half-century, and Christmas did not become a major Christian festival until the 9th century.

Hanukkah became a holiday on the Jewish calendar in 139 BCE, when the miracle of the oil occurred, and the Jews celebrated. The rabbis then proclaimed that these eight days should become an annual holiday1. Hanukkah means “dedication” in Hebrew, and the holiday marks the rededication of the Temple in Jerusalem in the 2nd century BC, after a small group of Jewish fighters liberated it from occupying foreign forces. With the tiny supply of ritually pure oil that they found in the temple, they lit the menorah — and it stayed lit for eight days

Christmas falls every year on December 25 of the solar calendar. 

Hanukkah also falls on the 25th of the month — but of the Hebrew month of Kislev, which is determined by the lunar calendar. As a result, Hanukkah falls on a different date each year on the secular calendar.

They’re Celebrated Differently:

Hanukkah is celebrated by lighting candles, giving gifts and eating fried foods. Going to synagogue is not actually an important part of Hanukkah. There are special blessings incorporated into regular services during the days of Hanukkah, but there is no special Hanukkah service. 

Christmas celebrations include going to Christmas Mass, enjoying a hearty dinner, and opening presents left under a Christmas tree.


St. Nicholas Day

St. Nicholas Day is a popular holiday celebrated in several European nations during the month of December. It commemorates the life of St. Nicholas of Myra, who inspired the figure of Santa Claus and Father Christmas. Known for his selflessness and kindness towards children and those less fortunate, he gave away all of his wealth to help others. The holiday falls on December 6th, the day he passed away in 343 A.D. Festivities including parades, feasting, exchanging gifts, and participating in festivals are common ways to honor this beloved saint.

Our Lady of Guadalupe

The Virgin of Guadalupe is a title given to the Blessed Virgin Mary in the Catholic faith, and it is associated with a supposed appearance by her and a highly revered image that resides in the Minor Basilica of Our Lady of Guadalupe in Mexico City.

Kwanzaa

Kwanzaa, derived from the Swahili phrase “First Fruits,” is rooted in traditional African harvest celebrations and embodies values such as family ties and togetherness. This meaningful holiday takes place from December 26 to January 1, where countless African Americans don unique attire, adorn their homes with produce, and illuminate a kinara candle holder.

Three Kings Day

The final day of the Twelve Days of Christmas is known as the Epiphany, or Three Kings Day. It marks the day when the three wise men first laid eyes on baby Jesus and presented him with gifts. In Spain, this day is also celebrated as a second Christmas, with children receiving presents from the three kings. In Puerto Rico, it is customary for children to leave a box with hay under their beds in hopes that the kings will bring them good presents. Meanwhile, in France, a delectable King cake is baked and traditionally contains a hidden coin, jewel, or toy inside.

Epiphany holiday

Theophany, also known as Denha, Little Christmas, or Three Kings' Day, is a Christian holiday that commemorates the moment when God revealed himself in human form as Jesus Christ.

Winter Solstice

On December 21, the Winter Solstice marks the shortest day of the year. Across the globe, people come together to commemorate this event with various festivals and celebrations. In ancient times, bonfires and candles were lit as a way to welcome back the sun during this dark time of year.

St. Lucia Day

In celebration of this third-century martyr on December 13th, numerous girls in Sweden don long white dresses adorned with red belts and a crown of lit candles atop their heads. They wake their families up by singing traditional songs and serving them coffee along with twisted saffron buns known as "Lucia cats."

New Year

On the seventh day of Christmastide, which falls on 31 December in the Gregorian calendar, people around the world celebrate New Year's Eve. This is a time for social gatherings where friends and family come together to eat, drink, dance, and watch or set off fireworks to welcome the new year. In Ecuador, it is a tradition to dress up a straw man with old clothes and make a list of all their faults. At midnight, they burn the straw man as a symbolic way to let go of their shortcomings and start fresh in the new year.

ÅŒmisoka

New Year’s Eve, is considered the second-most important day in Japanese tradition as it is the final day of the old year and the eve of New Year’s Day, the most important day of the year. Families gather on ÅŒmisoka for one last time in the old year to have a bowl of toshikoshi-soba or toshikoshi-udon, a tradition based on eating the long noodles to cross over from one year to the next.

Chinese New Year

Children dress in new clothes to celebrate and people carry lanterns and join in a huge parade led by a silk dragon, the Chinese symbol of strength. According to legend, the dragon hibernates most of the year, so people throw firecrackers to keep the dragon awake.

Eid Al-Fitr and Eid Al-Adha.

Eid Al-Fitr is celebrated at the end of Ramadan (a month of fasting during daylight hours), and Muslims usually give zakat (charity) on the occasion which begins after the new moon sighting for the beginning of the month of Shawal.

Happy Holidays!

Monday, December 23, 2024

I Love You Forever

 Can their love endure?

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

Nicole Storm

Grandpa Buck had always been my rock, teaching me to believe in myself and see the world as conquerable. I longed to be that little girl again, sitting on his lap, soaking in his wisdom and stories. Life felt simpler back then.

He filled my world with love and lessons, showing me kindness even towards the unkind and instilling a love for life's simple pleasures like books, cooking, hiking, and stargazing in the snow.

I’m all grown-up now… and alone. I worked as a hairstylist in a place called Hair and Flare. I enjoyed my job. Talking to people took skill and patience, and I was good at making them look their best. It was satisfying.

When Grandpa Buck fell ill two years ago, I feared the worst, especially given his age. I sat by his hospital bed, holding his hand as he slipped away, leaving a void in my heart that nothing could fill. He was my everything, the only one who loved me unconditionally. My own mother didn’t want me. She was a wild cat, as Grandpa used to say… and then one day she overdosed. That had been a hard time for Grandpa and me, but we were there for each other.

Grandpa Buck had left me a cabin in Big Bear. I loved living here. I cherished every moment in the cabin, a place filled with memories of the only person who ever showed me love.

Life can play jokes sometimes. I found out I had breast cancer a few weeks ago. The chemotherapy wasn’t easy. I felt drained and sick, barely able to move around.

I bought a lovely brown wig and headed to dinner at the village. I was tired almost all the time. It was starting to snow, and I put my arms up in the air and swirled. My boots sank in the snow, making me lose my balance, and I fell hard, knocking myself out. Someone poked me on the side of my back. My eyes opened to a handsome man smiling, and then the embarrassment happened… I felt the cold air on my bald head.

“Are you all right?” the cute guy said.

“Yes, I'm fine.”

“Wait… here… is this your wig?”

“Give me that!” I snatched it and placed it on my bald head.

“I think it’s backwards.” He smiled.

I was mortified. My face was beet red as he helped me up. I thanked him, put on my wig the right way, and slowly approached the restaurant. I ordered a glass of wine, hoping to dull the chaos and awkwardness.

Then, the handsome man walked in and kissed the waitress on the cheek. Too bad he was taken. He took a seat at my table. The man was full of surprises, and his baby blue eyes watched my every move.

“Hi, I didn't tell you my name. It's Noah Campbell.”

“Nice name. My name is Nicole Storm.” I shyly said.

He kept smiling, and he ordered a beer. We started to get acquainted, and finally, Noah walked me home. I couldn't believe he was spending time with someone like me. At the door, he hugged me and asked if I wanted to go for coffee in the morning. I said yes of course.

The next morning, we met at Starbucks, drank extra hot coffee and ate blueberry muffins, and talked.

“This is really nice, Noah. But why me?” I asked.

“Because you are lovely. Don't you believe in being in the right place at the right time?” he answered.

That night, before I went to bed, I wrote in my journal about what a great day I had. I wanted Noah to like me.

Months passed swiftly, like a gust of wind. My hair, though short, was slowly regaining its length, and I had returned to work after enduring the ravages of chemotherapy, which had taken a toll on my body, causing me to lose a lot of weight. Despite the lingering effects, I was feeling better each day.

Noah had been a constant presence in my life during this time. Despite his demanding schedule as a paramedic, he made time to visit me. Witnessing the pain and tragedies in his line of work had motivated him to pursue a career dedicated to saving lives. His dedication and compassion touched me deeply, and I found myself falling for him, though it stirred a sense of fear within me.

When he wasn’t around, or he didn’t call, I missed him, and my anxiety soared. But when I caught sight of him, my heart fluttered with anticipation, even though we hadn't even shared a kiss yet! I wondered if he only saw me as a friend. I have to be careful. After all, I was battling cancer and undergoing chemotherapy. Rushing into things wasn't an option. But still, I couldn't deny the allure of his tall, tanned body and piercing blue eyes.

Noah and I had our regular Friday night dinner. I wore a red dress and a wig because my hair was short and thin. I felt shy about my looks, but Noah didn't seem to mind. We went to Captain's Anchorage, a cozy and romantic restaurant. We had wine, talked, and held hands. With him by my side, I felt like the prettiest woman in the world, and it seemed like no other women mattered.

“Nicole, we're moving fast, but I love you. I don't want to waste any time. I'm going to Africa for two months. Can we spend tonight together and get married when I return? Will you marry me?”

“Yes!” I exclaimed, filled with joy.

We embraced and walked to my place. He spent the night, and we made sweet love. Everything was happening quickly, but with Noah leaving on Monday, I knew life was too short to hesitate.

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.

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