Tuesday, June 27, 2017

Hun Mythology #OurAuthorGang

Mythology and Fantasy

Since I was a young child, I was fascinated by legends and mythology, especially Hun legends such as Emese's DreamKing Attila, and the legend of Turul bird
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According to http://turul.info/, the mythical Turul bird is one of the most important symbols of the Hungarians. The Turul is seen as the ancestor of Attila and is often depicted carrying the flaming Sword of God.

The legend of Emese, who was the descendant of King Atilla and wife of Ügyek, once had a dream. As the Turul bird appeared in her dream, a crystal-clear stream started to flow from her. As the water flowed, it grew into a mighty river. It was thought that the dream represented her symbolic impregnation by the Turul, and it meant that she would give birth to a line of great rulers. Emese found out shortly after the dream that she was pregnant. She gave birth to Álmos, who was the father of Árpád, the great leader of the Magyars and founder of Hungary. This legend reaffirms the Hun-Magyar kinship and the knowledge that the Magyars re-conquered Hungary as their rightful inheritance from Atilla's great Hun Empire.

In my fantasy series, The Ancestors' Secrets, I weaved my favorite legends and bits of historical facts into the story, that plays out in the present and past, with intriguing tribal secrets, magical heritage, love triangle, and an exciting and dangerous life in a secret society.

I love this beautiful video about the ancient beliefs, the mythology of the World Tree. It also mentions Attila the Hun and the Turul bird that carries the Sword of God.

Video credit to Mythology https://youtu.be/NLxEl7pnsMc

Read short excerpts from book 1 of The Ancestors' Secrets Trilogy


I lit the sacred candles infused with herbs and then placed them in a silver candle holder on a small round table. The ancient wooden male and female figurines holding hands stood between the candles, with our delicately carved Turul bird with a crown on its head and a sword in its talons. The Falcon held widely stretched wings over the figurines as if protecting them.
The statues had been in my family for centuries, they were small and had a deep, warm brown color. The rich, shiny brown hue came from the hot herbal tea Elza poured over the statues every morning, as my ancestors had done for generations. Beside the statues was an ancient, dark leather-bound book. Its permanent place was on the Prayer table, and every Hun family had one. I had leafed through our book many times. The first few pages remained empty to me, but the rest of the book contained my ancestor’s names and achievements, written in ancient handwriting. Mom had said when I asked her about the empty pages, “The Book will reveal all its secrets to you, but only when you when you reach the age of maturity.” I wondered if I were ready; I was entering into Hun adulthood after all, so I made a mental note to check the book the next day, after prayer time.
Elza wrapped the ceremonial shawl over my shoulders as I took a deep breath and held my hands above the table. I began the prayer by reading the Hun writing, carved into the leather cover of the book of my ancestors. Following the ancient traditions, we prayed as a family in the morning to the First Mother and Father, and we prayed to the Creator at night, in solitude.

Mother and Father leading in unity,
Protected by the Turul for eternity,
Guide my soul and keep my body healthy.
Test my courage and try my patience,
Let me prove I have endurance.
Let compassion always guide me,
Make me wise to help the needy.
Challenge me on my daily journey,
And give me the strength to prove I’m worthy.

Closing my eyes, I held my hands in silence over the table for a minute and embraced the serene feeling I always had while saying the prayer. Warm energy flooded my insides, and I experienced a deep connection to something powerful, majestic and welcoming.
I was still a little angry with Elza for not letting me read her feelings. She was murmuring under her breath, as she did every morning. It was a low, rhythmic humming sound, but I did recognize some of the ancient Hun words. She refused to give me an explanation whenever I asked her about it, but I’d seen her doing the strange whispering, at Morning Prayer, ever since she came to live with us.

***

I turned and saw Joland collapsing on the ground in agony. He held his head with both hands, screaming in pain. I didn’t understand what was happening to him. He didn’t appear to be injured.
Elana made it clear, “It was foretold. The minute the child is born, Joland will lose all his powers.”
I watched Joland wiggling on the ground and then he went still. I thought he was dead, but then he moved. “Curse you. I curse you all,” he shouted.
He stood, climbed up on his horse, and nudging it he started galloping out of the cave. Cheers erupted, and Joland’s remaining army rode after their defeated leader. I dropped the shield and shouted, “Wait, Joland!”
He looked back with a murderous look in his eyes, “What? You defeated me, and I’m nothing but a broken man. I won’t stand your gloating.” He turned.
“I can take you to Morana. You can spend the rest of your life with her.”
He turned back to me and gave me a suspicious look, “Why would you do that?”
“Because… It just feels like the right thing to do.”
He rode closer and slid off his horse. “You would do this for me? After all I have done?”
“Yes, I would.”
He gave me a long and hard look, and then the fierce look on his face slowly softened. Tears filled his eyes and rolled down his face. He knelt before me, “Then I’m your servant,” he said.
Mundzuk drew his sword and took a step toward Joland, “You can’t trust him,” he said with a sneer.
“No, don’t hurt him. He’s an ordinary man with no powers,” I said. “He can’t harm anyone. I will take him to our timeline and unite him with his love.”
Mundzuk obeyed and put his sword back, “You are a noble person, Ilona. I would not have been so generous.”
A sudden bright light poured down from the ceiling of the cave. A 3D picture appeared before us. It seemed so real. The sacred Turul with a flaming sword descended slowly and hovered over us.
“The Sword of the Gods!” I heard Elana’s voice.
I felt a burning sensation on the side of my neck and itching under my left eye as I stared mesmerized at the lifelike image of the magnificent bird.
“Ilona!” I heard Elza’s voice, “There is a mark of the sword etched into your skin, and your Royal mark has changed.” She reached into her pocket handed me a makeup compact with a small mirror. I saw the sign of the Queen on my face.
Mundzuk kneeled, “My Queen.” He said, and the others followed. I looked around frantically and saw everyone kneeling and offering their service and life to me. The kneeling people around me had the expressions of devotion and submission on their faces. Bela knelt with the others and looked up at me with devotion, deep pain, and acceptance in his eyes.
I was stunned and automatically froze time. I was surprised to see the group of spirits still moving, gesturing and every one of them looking at me with expectation.
“Chosen by the Sword is a great honor and also a great responsibility.” I heard Tua’s voice.


This suspense fantasy takes the reader back to the life of people in ancient times.

"You are fate’s shadow or fate’s sun, depending on which way you turn." ~Terri Guillemets

A romantic suspense novella. Dark family secrets separated Emily and Daniel when they were teenagers, but fate brought them together again. Jayden, Emily’s brother, finds a leather book in his grandmother's secret room that was written in 426 by a shaman. Emily can read the ancient runes and finds out that if the family curse remains unbroken, it will bring ruin their lives as it destroyed many of their ancestors' lives for centuries. Can they find the way to break the ancient curse? Could Emily find happiness with her childhood puppy love, Daniel?
"Szabo expertly weaves this story through both today's timeline and that of yesterday's and brings us out on the other side with an amazing ending."

I write fantasy novels, children's books, and health-related books. Visit my website: http://www.authorerikamszabo.com

COMMENTS

Erika M Szabo

1 year ago  -  Shared publicly
 
Thank you Rick Haynes! I'm glad you found my post enjoyable and educational :)
 
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Erika M Szabo shared this via Google+

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Mary Anne Yarde

1 year ago  -  Shared publicly
 
I love all things mythological, what a fascinating post, Erika. Great excepts too!
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Thank you Mary Anne :)

Cristina Grau

1 year ago  -  Shared publicly
 
I love Mythology but I was not familiar with this tale. Very nice and great video.
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I love the video too Cristina :) Hun mythology is not widely known, but when I was a young child, I loved listening to the older people's tales about King Attila, the Turul bird and of course, Hungary's famous ruler, King Matyas

T.C. Rypel

1 year ago  -  Shared publicly
 
Make that a clean sweep of surprised and intrigued readers with my two-cents' worth here, Erika---I had never heard of the Turul bird either. This, despite being married to a Hungarian, having a stockpile of world-myth books on my shelves, and even having set the entire Gonji "Deathwind Trilogy" in the medieval Transylvanian Alps. (And, in the unwritten story that would immediately precede that trilogy, Gonji is in the service of a Magyar chieftain!)

Great stuff, and a very engaging sample from each of your series books. Consider them added to my tottering reading queue. They read like captivating storytelling. And considering how well you do everything else in your publishing experience, I have no doubt that they won't disappoint.
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Thank you so much for the compliment and for your faith in my ability as a storyteller! I hope reading the series will not disappoint you :) Hungarian history and Hun mythology is not widely known. It was a powerful and proud nation for centuries but bad political decisions made by its leaders, the Trianon Treaty had torn the country apart and the small middle part of the country had to fight for survival instead of nurturing the traditions. The past few decades brought positive changes and historians discovering new facts about Hungary's rich history every day and the ancient writing, called Rovasiras, once again learned by children and adult as well. The Turul became the symbol of Hungary once again and now most Hungarian towns are proudly displaying the statues of the Turul, including the town I grew up in, Sarospatak. Thank you again for your compliment and I hope you will enjoy my Ilona's story :)
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Mackenzie Flohr

1 year ago  -  Shared publicly
 
As someone who also enjoys mythology, I really enjoyed this article and your excerpts. I was not familiar with the Turul bird. Thank you for writing this!
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I'm glad I was able to show you something new Ami :)

Lorraine Carey

1 year ago  -  Shared publicly
 
Erika is a most talented author. I've read a few of her books and was able to get transported to another place in time. Yes, she has the ability to take her readers there.
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My pleasure Erika. 
 
+Erika M Szabo You're very welcome! 

Joe Bonadonna via Google+

1 year ago  -  Shared publicly
 
Author and illustrator Erika M. Szabo​ is featured today on A Small Gang of Authors, where she talks about Hungarian mythology, which is so integral to her fantasy novels, the Turul bird, and Attila the Hun. She also provides us with a very cool video about the infernal Underworld of Hungarian mythology, as well as excerpts from her novels.
https://asmallgangofauthors.blogspot.com/2017/06/hun-mythology-ourauthorgang.html
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Thank you for sharing my post Joe!
 
You're welcome!

Rick Haynes

1 year ago  -  Shared publicly
 
All countries have legends from the past, the Hun legends unknown to many including me. It was interesting to learn that Attila carried the Flaming Sword of God into battle sweeping all before him. Better still was the details of The World Tree, with the Gods, the Moon and the Sun inhabiting the Upper Tree, whilst humans and mystical beings lived in the Middle Tree. The Lower Tree was the domain of bad souls and evil spirits. An educational post all round.
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Joe Bonadonna

1 year ago  -  Shared publicly
 
As  lover of mythology who often draws up it for inspiration in my own work,  I found this a fascinating article, especially since I had never heard of the Turul bird until today. It's relationship to Attila is something I need to explore in more detail. That cool video has stirred some ideas for a series I wrote for, Heroes in Hell. Thanks so much for posting this, Erika.
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Thank you Joe! Hun history and mythology is not something that is widely known, but it is indeed fascinating :)

Publishing Services via Google+

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Hun Mythology #OurAuthorGang
Mythology and Fantasy Since I was a young child, I was fascinated by legends and mythology, especially Hun legends such as Emese's Dream ,  King Attila , and the legend of Turul bird . According to  http://turul.info/ , the mythical Turul bird is one of the...

Monday, June 26, 2017

A Small Gang of Authors: Tidbits of history I learned while traveling. #Our...

A Small Gang of Authors: Tidbits of history I learned while traveling. #Our...: My life consists of gallivanting from one country to another one.  One of the many times I have been in Barcelona, I learned about Gaudi. ...

Tidbits of history I learned while traveling. #OurAuthorGang



My life consists of gallivanting from one country to another one.  One of the many times I have been in Barcelona, I learned about Gaudi. As his birthday was yesterday, I saw it apropos to write about him.


Yesterday, June 25, we celebrated the birthday of Antoni Gaudi, born in 1852 in (unknown city) Cataluña, Spain.
Gaudi was the son of laborers and as a child lived in Reux, Cataluña.
From an early age, he showed an interest in architecture, but because he was from a poor family he needed to work to pay for his studies.
He was not a good student, his style was different from what the teachers wanted. At his graduation, the professor presenting his diplomas said: “We are in the presence of a genius or a madman”. Actually, he was a little bit of both.
To get the connections needed to acquire the kind of work he wanted, he started to dress well and to patronize the fashionable and high-class establishments of the era.
In one of those outings, he met the very rich Catalan industrialist Eusebi Güell. Whom became his friend and his patron, commissioning many buildings and giving Gaudi carte blanche.
Gaudy only used the best of materials and if he did not like something after it was done, he would knock it down and start from scratch once again and as many times as needed.
Gaudi was eccentric and difficult to work with. He had a vision in his head and he expected everybody to see it as he did.
You can see most of his work all over Barcelona. Whether you like his style or not, you have to admit that he had a great imagination.
He became rich, however, he lived as a pauper. Most of the time he used to live in the places that he worked, as to no waste time coming and going. He used to put a mattress on the floor, have a few necessities and that was it.
The Sagrada Familia was his last work and he knew that he was not going to see it finish. That is why he left many drawings and explanations for the future work of other architects.
What he did not count on, was the civil war. During the war obviously they have to stop work, and the military wanted to destroy the church like they destroyed many other churches. However, the military realized that they could put the canons in the towers and shoot the attackers from there, so, they kept the church. After the civil war, the work on the church resumed.
Gaudi was a very religious man and attended mass twice a day at Sant Felip Neri Church in the Gothic neighborhood.
One day at the age of 74, as he was walking toward the church for his daily Mass and confession, a trolley hit him. The driver pushed the body to the side of the street and left it there because he thought it was a homeless man.
Two people came to his aid, and called a taxi to take him to the hospital, however, the taxi driver refused because he did not want his taxi to get all bloody by a homeless man.
Finally, he was taken to the hospital where he was left in a hallway because he did not have an ID on him, and once again, because by his attire and his poor hygiene, they thought he was homeless.
Not until the next day when everybody was looking for him, the hospital realized who he was.
However, by then it was too late. On June 10, 1926, two days after being admitted to the hospital, he passed away.
The funeral procession was attended by all of Barcelona’s residents and dignitaries.
He is buried in a crypt at the Sagrada Familia.
The Sagrada Familia  And in my humble opinion, it will never be finished, because this way it is unique and a greater tourist attraction.


Park Güell




Saturday, June 24, 2017

A Small Gang of Authors: Goofy Post Day at #OurAuthorGang

A Small Gang of Authors: Goofy Post Day at #OurAuthorGang: By Erika My idea of dressing up had always been comfi, faded jeans and t-shirt since I was a very young child. My mother's idea, ...

Goofy Post Day at #OurAuthorGang

By Erika
My idea of dressing up had always been comfi, faded jeans and t-shirt since I was a very young child. My mother's idea, on the other hand, was fluffy dresses, adorned with lots of lace, and huge bows in my hair. Gosh, I hated those bows! I remember the day when this picture was taken in the photographer's studio.

I felt miserable, and it shows in the picture. No matter what my mom promised or even threatened to take away, I refused to smile.

Mom didn't give up to have a perfect picture taken of me dressed in her favorite outfit, so when we got home, she made me pose under the acacia tree that was filled with flowers. Unnoticed by her because she was busy setting the camera, I inched my way closer and closer to the tree branches.

To my great satisfaction, the hated bow got caught and tangled in the branch and when I yanked my head, the sharp thorns ripped the silk bow to shreds.

One glance at mom's angry eyebrows told me I was in big trouble, so I started running toward the front porch to reach the safety of my dad's embrace that always saved me from my mother's wrath. But in my haste, I stepped into the dog's water bowl, skidded, and fell into the muddy flower bed that dad just finished watering. My fluffy dress was ruined but the pitiful look on my face must have softened mom's anger because she quietly put the camera away and never again forced me to wear the enormous bows and fluffy dresses.

By Rick
Here I sit, all alone on our faded cream sofa. 
My feet are hanging over one of the dark wooden arms, as my hand grasps the tumbler ever tighter. 
The half-empty bottle on the coffee table speaks volumes, as my eyes shed droplets like the whiskey tears running down the outside of the glass.
Was it only last week that she packed her bags and left, clearing out the bank account on her way to meet her new lover?
Someone I knew so very, very well; my mate and my best friend. 
I really, really . . . miss him.

 
"I wonder what's closer. The moon, or China."
"The moon."
"How do you know?"
"Duh! I can see the moon!"














Picture credit: the author's own photos, and created by the author using purchased Adobe or Fotolia photos

COMMENTS

Joe Bonadonna via Google+

1 year ago  -  Shared publicly
 
And now, for something completely different, it's Goofy Post Day today on our A Small Gang of Authors shared-blog!
https://asmallgangofauthors.blogspot.com/2017/06/goofy-post-day-at-ourauthorgang.html
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Great story, Erika! My Mom used to dress me into pretty dresses when I was younger, too, and I absolutely hated it as well. I don't own a single dress now.
 
LOL, I have one evening gown that I wear once or twice a year when I really must. My favorite outfit remained jeans and t-shirt, but I wear slacks and simple blouses when I need to "dress up" :)
 
My mom too made me clothes she took patterns out of a sewing magazines called Burda. To her defense, back in the day you couldn't find jeans and such in stores. Many people would buy them at the smugglers. It was a big business to smuggle jeans in from Italy. After the borders were opened and trade resumed, you could find anything and everything in stores. Love watching funny cats videos. All in all it's great to break away from the everyday posts and be goofy for a day.
 
I agree. When we do serious work such as writing, we need a break once in a while to have some fun :)
 
Love this, made me smile. My Mum tried to force me into jeans rather than dresses (which I loved). I hated having school pictures taken and would usually be found staring at the floor or sulking in a group pic.
 
Maybe we were switched at birth Stella. You would've make my mom's dream come through having a daughter who loved dresses :)
 
ROFL! Great post!
 
Laugh is the best medicine ;)
 
These are too funny! Funny dresses? In a way, I can related. My Mom dressed me some outfits, stylish at the time for little boys, that now look like something some weird rich kid in those old, Our Gang/Little Rascals comedies of the 1930s would have worn. Stories, jokes, funny pictures and comments, and a hilarious video? This is great!
 
Thanks Joe! I thought it would be nice to take a day off from serious posting about books and writing and have a fun day. Today is like a dress-down day for the blog. That bow and dress traumatized me as a kid, probably that's why my favorite outfit remained faded jeans and t-shirts :)
 
Your mom was big on pretty dresses too? It is amazing how easily a child could be influenced to love or hate things.
 
I never made my daughter wear an organza dress or something that she did not like
 
Me neither! I remembered too vividly what it felt like when I was forced to wear clothes I didn't like.

 
Very funny. Your article reminded me of my organza dresses.

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