​Join Ava Jenson on vacation in her grandmother’s old country when all mysterious events are connected to an ancient legend about a cursed church bell.

Ava Jenson sighed as she glanced over the travel brochure for the impressive resort in Siofok, Hungary. Hotel Azur overlooking Lake Balaton with an elegant glass facade looked inviting. It had a spa, an outdoor café and a five-star restaurant. She’d always wanted to visit Hungary as her grandmother was born there and immigrated to the US as a young woman. Her stories always fascinated Ava, but her husband for ten long years had refused the idea of a European vacation and always bullied her into doing what he liked.

It’d been five years since her nasty divorce, and she was finally ready to venture out on her own. She hadn’t had a vacation since then and with so much unused vacation time from her job at the boutique, she decided to make it a two-week stay.

Sipping her coffee, she remembered what the travel agent told her about Lake Balaton's clean water and the striking emerald-green color due to its chemical composition. It’s heavy in carbonates and sulfates, and there are also around 2000 species of algae that grow in its waters. Ava phoned the travel agent; she’d made her payment and was all set to go at the end of the month.

The two weeks flew by fast, and after nine hours of an exhausting overnight flight, she arrived in Budapest. The two-hour taxi ride to Siofok was pleasant with the chatty driver who entertained her with local legends as he drove toward Lake Balaton.

Ava trailed behind the porter who carried her luggage on a huge cart down the long hallway covered with lush red carpet. She tipped him and threw herself on the bed, arms outstretched. “I can’t believe I’m here!” she said, her head turned toward the large sliding glass doors that overlooked the calm water of the lake. She marveled at the classy pool that showcased the many tables and lounge chairs with oversized umbrellas.

She could just picture herself lying out there getting some well-needed sun. But first, lunch, she thought smiling when her stomach rumbled.

With a quick trip to the bathroom, she washed her face and applied some light makeup. She piled her long blonde hair into an updo and changed into a knee-length black cocktail dress. This should be fine for a five-star eatery, she thought as she glanced at her slim figure in the bathroom mirror.

After a delicious lunch of stuffed cabbage rolls and Gundel pancake for dessert, she returned to her room ready for a few hours of rest. Feeling exhausted, she slept through the afternoon and night, and the following morning she ordered room service and ate as she perused the booklet in her room that featured various places of interest to see in the area.

She dressed comfortably and decided to book the historical tour in the village of Tihany. The resort shuttle promptly left at 10 a.m. She had to quicken her step to catch it before it left without her. Taking a backseat on the shuttle allowed her to have some privacy and reflect on how blessed she felt at the moment to be able to take this trip.

She joined the group after departing the shuttle to listen to the guide who explained the schedule for the day and the time she’d need to be back at the bus. Glancing at her feet thought, Glad I packed these old sneakers. They’ll get some good use today.

The tour of the huge Benedictine Abbey that was built in 1055 was the first stop, and its beauty was overwhelming, not to mention its size. Ava took several photos before they had moved deeper into the village where she was looking forward to shopping in the various pottery shops and having lunch in one of the quaint outdoor cafés.

The tour had exhausted her and even though it was almost dinnertime she took a well-needed nap on the comfy king-size bed.

Opening her eyes, she glanced over at the clock on the bedside table. "Six O’clock already? This clean air and walking all day are doing me good!”

She headed to the shower and then to the closet to select a dress that would be appropriate for the dining area. Hmm, this red cocktail dress is just the ticket. Red has always seemed to give me more energy.

A few stares were quite noticeable as she entered the stunning outdoor restaurant with a beautiful fountain in the center of the seating area. The hostess led her over to a table close to the fountain. Strings of small outdoor lights were strung along the walls making the alfresco area seem almost magical.

After ordering a glass of white wine she read the menu and couldn’t help but notice a loud but friendly-looking young couple who had taken the table next to her. They had a pile of brochures and other literature that they had brought to their table along with a camera.
The young redhead turned to the hostess. “I’m sorry, ma’am. We don’t mean to be so loud but we’re nature photographers and so excited to be here. If we take a few shots of this gorgeous outdoor patio, please forgive us.”

The hostess smiled and waved her hand to dismiss the woman’s apology. “No problem at all. Enjoy your stay,” she said.

The waitress took Ava’s order and asked if anyone would be joining her. “No. I’ll be dining alone,” she stated with a sad smile.

The young redhead stared at her for a second with a sympathetic look and walked over to her table. “Sorry to bother you, I just heard you speak English. My name is Tessa Jergenson. My husband over there is Kevin. We are professional photographers and are here to take photos of the wildlife in the marsh, especially the birds. The Small Balaton is a huge wetland habitat that is unique in Europe. We’re planning to go down to the river Zala delta tomorrow.”

“Hello, I’m Ava. I hope you’ll enjoy your adventure to the wetland. I prefer to relax and enjoy a quiet two weeks in the comfort of the hotel,” she laughed.

Tessa took her hand. “We’re so excited! The wetland has a large population of plant and animal species such as bee-eaters, cranes, and marvelous herons. The Small-Balaton area is also rich in other species of animals. European pond turtles, otters, ermine, martens, various species of dragonflies, and about 30 species of fish. Also, numerous species of orchids can be found there. Oh, sorry for bugging you, but I’m so excited about the trip and we can’t find too many people who speak English.”

“No bother at all!” Ava assured the chatty young woman. “Enjoy your adventure.”

Tessa returned to her table and whispered to her husband that she felt a tone of loneliness in Ava’s voice. “Maybe we should invite her to join us tomorrow,” she suggested while picking up a menu.

Kevin nodded. “She didn’t sound like she’d be into that sort of thing.”

Ava couldn’t help but overhear their muted conversation. Hmm, so I see they feel sorry for me. I should put on a happy face, but no. I did that way too many times when I was married.
After dinner Ava took a stroll around the grounds, admiring the lush vegetation and colored lights that lit up the pool area. A strong breeze had picked up and she rubbed her arms trying to erase the goosebumps. The all-so-familiar odd feeling came over her that always warned her of impending danger. Perhaps it just signals a normal storm this time. I hope... She headed back to her room to turn in for the night.

Right before she climbed under the covers, she looked at the other brochures, one featuring the Water Tower in the village's main square. She thought that if the storm was coming, she may not be able to do the tour. Maybe that’s what that feeling was I had out there and nothing more. However, the uneasy feeling stayed with her and made her think of the countless disasters, accidents, and people getting hurt that followed after she experienced those eerie feelings.

She sighed and after looking through another brochure she became drowsy and quickly fell into a deep sleep.

The loud sound of the church bell had awakened Ava out of her deep slumber and the foul smell of rotten eggs filled her nose. She sat up in bed startled and nauseous. The clock showed 6 a.m. Is there a fire? Perhaps here they sound the church bell instead of the fire alarm, she thought as she rose quickly to look out of the large glass doors.
​
She saw a large plume of black smoke engulfing the back pool area. She quickly threw on her robe and made it to the lobby to see what had happened. 

​Mysteries of the Wetland by Erika M Szabo and Lorraine Carey
Join Ava Jenson on vacation in her grandmother’s old country when all mysterious events are connected to an ancient legend about a cursed church bell.
The Zanna by David W. Thompson
A potential stepmother and stepdaughter seek common ground at the family's rustic retreat. Will the past return to haunt them? Only Zanna knows...
Forbidden Love by Erika M Szabo
They knew their love was forbidden, but they couldn't help the way they felt. Their love for each other was too strong to ignore.
A Well-kept Home by Toi Thomas
Everyone knows how special the Fields Family Farm is. Some say it’s haunted. Some say it’s enchanted. But only those who dare to stay the night really know.
Don’t Whistle Back by Erika M Szabo
Milena visits her grandfather in Mexico and wonders why he has a rope with seven knots tied to the door. She finds out soon enough!
J.A.C.K.S. by R. A. “Doc” Correa.
What is a human? According to the cybernetically enhanced officers of the U. S. Army’s Joint Advanced Combat Knowledge System program, they are the only real humans.
She Decided to Be a Vampire by Erika M Szabo
Every kid in town knew that old Mrs. Robbins was a vampire. What they didn’t know and are about to find out, will change their lives forever.
T’is Was The Night by Alan Zacher
This Christmas tale is about a family coming to “terms” with the alleged existence of Mo-Mo, aka, “The Missouri Monster”; aka, their own Bigfoot.
W.I.DG.E.T.S. by R. A. “Doc” Correa
The U. S. Army pursues the technologies “improving” Soldier-Machine Interface for Future Combat Systems. What are the consequences for humans?
The Unlucky Number Four by Erika M Szabo
In China, the number four sounds like the word death, making the number highly unlucky. Hua is the fourth child in her family.
Push by David W. Thompson
Leona is a missing mother and Sergeant James is on the hunt. When family secrets are revealed, he must find her, or it will be the cadaver dog's turn.
Bravery Has a Price by Erika M Szabo and Lorraine Carey
After boasting to her twin brothers that she is braver than they are, Emma immediately regrets it. Is proving her courage worth the price she must pay?

​Lost in the Woods by Erika M Szabo
A young police officer enters the woods to find a missing woman, but it takes all her mental strength to deal with what she finds.
She Waits 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 Treasures of Grandma’s Attic by Erika M Szabo
Sixteenth birthdays are special, but something they find in Grandma’s attic will make sure they’ll never forget this party.
Church of the Sentient System Ascendant by R.A, “Doc” Correa
A civil servant who is deeply devoted to his faith. By accident, he learns the truth about his religion, and the malevolent A.I. behind it.
Genie in the Sporran by Erika M Szabo
A device cloaked as an everyday item makes all your wishes come true. But Blair and Rhona find out the hard way that everything has a price.
I Scarecrow by Alan Zacher
A troubled man is cursed by a gypsy woman, and the scarecrow he built makes his wishes come true. All is good, but he might get more than he bargained for.
Don’t Look Out the Window by S.S. Bazinet
Growing up in a house with a cursed window, Hank has to find the courage to look out its glass panes, even if it kills him.
The Spirit of The Rattlesnake by S. M. Revolinski
In the spring of 1889, civilization with railroads and cattle ranches moved into Wyoming. However, the Indian Spirit was not finished. Into this, Alice Potter begins her trek.
Will You Wait for Me? By Erika M Szabo and Lorraine Carey
Fate gave her one year of happy marriage, but although losing her husband and unborn child devastated Gladys, she'd find a way to live a full life. Will they meet again?

When her Raven spirit guide warns her of impending danger and after a brutal attack and the Raven’s repeated warnings, she knows her life is in danger. Who wants her dead and why? #supernatural #fiction #fantasy #omen

​Lauren met Luke when she did her surgical rotation in the Presbyterian Hospital. Luke was working for a law firm that handled medical negligence cases and questioned her about a surgery.

He was well-groomed, charming, handsome, and his friendly smile lit up the room. He made her feel at ease and there was an instant attraction between them. After a few dates, their relationship bloomed into a passionate romance and on Valentine’s Day, he proposed. Lauren was happy and counted her blessings to have found the perfect man. Although her grandmother asked her numerous times if she was sure about marrying him, she assured her that he’s a good man, and he makes her happy.

“His aura is unclear, and his vibes feel off,” she told Lauren.

“But why Grandma? What did he do?”

“My intuition tells me not to trust him, and I can’t control how I feel. Just think it over carefully, and don’t rush into marriage. How do you feel about him?”

“I love him, Grandma. I trust him, and I want to marry him.”

  Despite the bitter feelings her grandmother’s warning left, Lauren didn’t change her mind. Her grandmother gave in but insisted on having a prenuptial drawn up by her lawyer which Lauren hesitantly and Luke happily signed. He moved into her penthouse apartment, and they settled into living a seemingly idyllic married life. Soon, he started talking about how stressful it was to work for the law firm and made plans for the time when he’d have enough money to start his own law firm. Lauren laughed and took out her checkbook, “How much do you need?”

Luke seemed to be surprised and at first, he protested against using his wife’s money, but soon, happily gave in and rented an office space in a high-rise building on 84th Street in Manhattan. Lauren chose Internal Medicine and opened her office five blocks from Luke’s office.

Everything seemed fine for the first few years. Luke was ambitious, and to make valuable connections, he organized parties every other month or so in Lauren’s lavish loft and invited influential people. Lauren didn’t like the mingling, forced smiles and the endless, nauseatingly boring pleasantries, which seemed to be the same at every party. Her statuesque figure drew admiring glances from men and jealous stares from the trophy wives. She was bored and sometimes disgusted by the business deals they made between cocktails, but she couldn’t say no to Luke and put up with it to please him. However, she put her foot down when Luke wanted to spice up the parties with cocaine and other popular party drugs.

Later Luke started to become reckless and confessed to Lauren about the bad investments he made and the tens of thousands he lost at his monthly poker games with his friends. Lauren bailed him out every time, paid his debts and forgave him often recalling her grandmother’s wise words. “Every time you forgive a man, he’ll love you more, but you’ll love him a little less. The time will come when you’ll see who he truly is.”

The past six months or so Lauren felt a deep coldness slowly seeping into their relationship. He was attentive and loving as usual during the short times in the mornings and evenings they managed to spend together, but numerous times she caught the anxious flash of his eyes or noticed him staring at nothing. At first, she thought it was because she kept bringing up the idea of starting a family, but lately, she sensed something else. He became anxious and sometimes snapped at her when she asked about his company. “Everything is fine,” he would say ending the conversation.

She couldn’t shake the feeling of uncertainty that crept between them and tried to force some assurance out of Luke. After a nice dinner, she mentioned, again, that it’s time to start a family. He clammed up and his expression turned frigid, but knowing how materialistic he was, she kept listing her reasons. “We’re happy and we have everything we’ve ever wanted. My inheritance provides us with financial security and besides, we both have great jobs. I believe we need a child to tie our family together.”

“We have plenty of time, we’re both young. We don’t need to hurry. Let’s just enjoy our life and freedom together. Aren’t you happy?”
​
Defiance and anger washed over Lauren and before she could stop herself, she blurted out in a hurry, “My thirty-fifth birthday is approaching, and it’s time, but you seem to be so against the idea of having a child. Maybe we’re not meant to be together. This is not enough for me. Perhaps we should divorce and go on with our separate lives.”

Lauren conoció a Luke cuando hizo su rotación quirúrgica en el Hospital Presbiteriano. Luke trabajaba para un bufete de abogados que manejaba casos de negligencia médica y la interrogaba sobre una cirugía.

Estaba bien arreglado, encantador, guapo, y su sonrisa amable iluminó la habitación. La hizo sentir a gusto y había una atracción instantánea entre ellos. Después de unas cuantas citas, su relación floreció en un romance apasionado y en el Día de San Valentín, propuso. Lauren estaba feliz y contó sus bendiciones de haber encontrado al hombre perfecto. Aunque su abuela le preguntó en numerosas ocasiones si estaba segura de casarse con él, ella le aseguró que él es un buen hombre, y él la hace feliz.

—Su aura no está clara y sus vibraciones se sienten mal—, le dijo a Lauren.

—Pero ¿por qué la abuela? ¿Qué hizo? --

—Mi intuición me dice que no confíe en él, y no puedo controlar cómo me siento. Piénsalo bien, y no te apresures al matrimonio. ¿Cómo te sientes con él? --

—Lo amo, abuela. Confío en él, y quiero casarme con él. --

A pesar de los sentimientos amargos que dejó la advertencia de su abuela, Lauren no cambió de opinión. Su abuela cedió, pero insistió en tener un acuerdo prenupcial elaborado por su abogado que Lauren dubitativamente y Luke felizmente firmaron. Se mudó a su apartamento en el ático, y se establecieron en vivir una vida de casado aparentemente idílica. Pronto, comenzó a hablar de lo estresante que era trabajar para el bufete de abogados e hizo planes para el momento en que tendría suficiente dinero para comenzar su propio bufete de abogados. Lauren se rió y sacó su chequera: —¿Cuánto necesitas? --

Luke parecía estar sorprendido y al principio, protestó contra el uso del dinero de su esposa, pero pronto, felizmente cedió y alquiló un espacio de oficinas en un edificio de gran altura en la calle 84 en Manhattan. Lauren eligió Medicina Interna y abrió su oficina a cinco cuadras de la oficina de Luke.

Todo parecía estar bien durante los primeros años. Luke era ambicioso, y para hacer conexiones valiosas, organizaba fiestas cada dos meses más o menos en el lujoso loft de Lauren e invitó a personas influyentes. A Lauren no le gustaban las sonrisas forzadas y las interminables y nauseabundamente y aburridas agradables, que parecían ser las mismas en cada fiesta. Su figura escultural dibujó miradas admiradoras de los hombres y miradas celosas de las esposas del trofeo. Estaba aburrida y a veces disgustada por los negocios que hacían entre cócteles, pero no podía decirle que no a Luke y soportarlo para complacerlo. Sin embargo, ella puso el pie en el suelo cuando Luke quería darle vida a las fiestas con cocaína y otras drogas populares de fiestas.

Más tarde Luke comenzó a ser imprudente y le confesó a Lauren sobre las malas inversiones que hizo y las decenas de miles que perdió en sus juegos de póquer mensuales con sus amigos. Lauren lo rescató cada vez, pagó sus deudas y lo perdonó a menudo recordando las sabias palabras de su abuela. —Cada vez que perdones a un hombre, te amará más, pero lo amarás un poco menos. Llegará el momento en que verás quién es realmente—.

Los últimos seis meses más o menos Lauren sintió una profunda frialdad que se filtraba lentamente en su relación. Era atento y cariñoso como de costumbre durante los breves momentos de las mañanas y las noches que se las arreglaban para pasar juntos, pero numerosas veces ella cogió el destello ansioso de sus ojos o lo notó mirando a nada. Al principio, pensó que era porque seguía sacando a relucir la idea de formar una familia, pero últimamente, sintió otra cosa. Se puso ansioso y a veces se espetó a ella cuando le preguntaba por su compañía. —Todo está bien—, diría, terminando la conversación.

No podía sacudir la sensación de incertidumbre que se deslizaba entre ellos y trataba de forzar cierta confianza en Luke. Después de una buena cena, ella mencionó, de nuevo, que es hora de formar una familia. Se alegró y su expresión se volvió frígida, pero sabiendo lo materialista que era, ella seguía enumerando sus razones. —Somos felices y tenemos todo lo que siempre hemos querido. Mi herencia nos proporciona seguridad financiera y además, ambos tenemos grandes trabajos. Creo que necesitamos un niño para unir a nuestra familia—.

—Tenemos mucho tiempo, ambos somos jóvenes. No tenemos que darnos prisa. Disfrutemos juntos de nuestra vida y de nuestra libertad. ¿No estás feliz? --

El coraje y la ira se apoderaron de Lauren y antes de que pudiera detenerse, se desdibujó a toda prisa: —Se acerca mi trigésimo quinto cumpleaños, y es hora, pero pareces estar tan en contra de la idea de tener un hijo. Tal vez no estamos destinados a estar juntos. Esto no es suficiente para mí. Tal vez deberíamos divorciarnos y seguir con nuestras vidas por separado—.
Luke se encogía de nuevo con el miedo parpadeando a través de su cara hermosa. —No, cariño. Te amo y haré cualquier cosa para hacerte feliz—. Se puso de pie y corrió hacia Lauren, abrazándola fuertemente. —Tienes razón. Empecemos una familia, pero esperemos un poco más. Tal vez hasta el año que viene.

​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. “What 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 criminal gangs. 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.

Would you like to find out what the biker gang will find in the woods? The What If #3 Anthology will be published in July with many fascinating stories.

"I loved this book which mixes magic with teenage emotions and trials. "
"Well written with heartwarming characters, The Potion is a gem of a story."

Chapter Three
Candice watched Olivia and Dorian for months as their close friendship grew into more. She did everything she could think of to get his attention, yet he didn’t show any interest in her. One day she watched them kissing and holding hands as they walked to the parking space at the Coven. It should be me kissing him! she screamed in her mind with jealous rage. She couldn’t take it anymore. Bitter jealousy gnawed at her insides, and she knew what she was going to do. I’m going to make him love me!

She let the jealous thoughts and feelings stew inside her mind as she rushed home in a fury of anger and sorrow. Why did he have to like her? In her haste, she opened her grandmother’s spellbook and flipped through the pages. She was warned by the High Priestess not to use magic for her own gain, but she didn’t care and planned to do it anyway. Although she knew she would be kicked out of the Coven and lose her chance of becoming a Ravenwood witch if they found out, she couldn’t care less at this point—she wanted Dorian.

She knew her grandmother would be late, busy with the Witches Council meeting, so she flipped through the pages looking for the love spell that would make Dorian fall in love with her. When she found it, she opened her grandmother’s cabinet and gathered the ingredients. Pink sunrise rose petals, she read the instructions. Where are those damned rose petals? she murmured, rummaging through jars and bottles. Here it is! She grabbed the jar hiding behind books on the bottom shelf. She yanked out the glass cork and looked inside. But these are not pink. They’re brownish-colored. Duh, these petals are dry. They lost the original color in the drying process. She added three petals to the brew and concentrated on Dorian as the potion bubbled.

When it was done, she cast the spell thinking about how he’d fall madly in love with her.

She finished reciting the spell and poured the potion into a glass bottle. Next, she made the cupcake batter as the spellbook instructions said and added the potion to the batter. She set the oven, baked the cupcakes, and when they cooled, she piped the prepared frosting on top.
She hid the cupcakes in her room and cleaned up the kitchen. By the time her grandmother got home, she was in bed. All she had to do was make him take a bite the next day. The potion took a night to set, at least that’s what the spell book had said.

The next day on her way to school, Candice took a detour over to Dorian’s house. She fantasized about after graduation when Dorian would be madly in love with her and ask her to marry him. They would find a charming house in the woods, secluded but not haunted or creepy, unlike her grandma’s old Victorian house.

She parked her car further up the street and walked to Dorian’s house. She hid behind the oak tree across from his house and waited for him. She imagined his dark hair and blue eyes as he would greet her, and she would hand him the cupcake. Once he eats it, we’ll live happily ever after.

When Candice saw him closing the front door, she started walking and, casually, as if she’d just noticed him, called out, “Hey, Dorian.”

“Oh, hey, Candice. I haven’t seen you in a while. You live on the other side of town; what are you doing here? Where is your car?” he asked, surprised.

“Grandma asked me to drop off some cupcakes at her friend’s house, and I decided to walk. It’s not that far. I saved a few cupcakes; do you want one? It’s lemon poppy with vanilla frosting.” She smiled at him while opening the box.

“Thanks! Those are my favorites.” He picked a cupcake from the box and took a big bite. “This is really good,” he mumbled with his mouth full and licked the frosting off his lips.

“Thank you. I made it.” Candice smiled with eyebrows raised. She waited impatiently to find out if the potion had worked, but she wasn’t prepared for his unexpected reaction.

Suddenly, Dorian swayed on his feet and grabbed her arm, mumbling, “I feel… dizzy.” His knees buckled; his body turned limp, and his eyes rolled back as he fell hard onto the sidewalk.

Candice screamed as she knelt beside him and quickly yanked out her cell phone from her back pocket, dialing 911.

“911, what is your emergency?”

“My friend. He passed out!”   
        
“Is he breathing, miss?”

“Dorian? Dorian!” Candice shook his shoulder gently at first and then forcefully. “He’s breathing but not responding… He hit his head pretty hard on the sidewalk.” 
      
“Where are you located?”
​
Candice gave the address to the dispatcher and waited on the phone until the ambulance got there. What have I done? I must’ve put the wrong ingredient in the potion, she cried. She sat on the concrete sidewalk beside Dorian, holding his hand in shock. What the hell have I done?

It was a bright, sunny morning. The jolly farmer, Gideon, loaded his truck and drove to the farmer’s market. He was hoping to sell all the fruits and vegetables he’d grown on his farm.

​Era una mañana brillante y soleada. El granjero alegre, Gideón, cargó su camión y condujo hasta el Mercado de Agricultores. Tenía la esperanza de vender todas las frutas y verduras que había cultivado en su granja.

Gideon sold everything by noon. Before heading home, he walked around and saw a beautiful peacock by the vegetable stand. “Is this pretty bird for sale?” he asked.
“Yes, he is. His name is Pierre,” the seller said.
Gideon paid for the peacock, picked the bird up, and put him in the truck bed. 

Para el mediodía ya Gideón había vendido todo. Antes de irse a casa, caminó y vio un hermoso pavo real junto al puesto de verduras. Y preguntó, “¿Está a la venta esta hermosa ave?”.
“Sí, lo está. Su nombre es Pierre”, dijo el vendedor.
Gideón pagó por el pavo real, tomó al ave y lo puso en la plataforma de su camión.

Pierre was a little scared because he didn’t know where the large man was taking him, but he liked the adventure. He also liked the idea of meeting new people and animals. I hope they will appreciate my beauty, Pierre thought.
Gideon tried to calm the frightened bird by talking to him. “You’ll like it on my farm! And you’ll make lots of friends there. You’ll see!” he said.

​Pierre estaba un poco asustado porque no sabía a dónde lo estaba llevando el gran hombre, pero le encantó la aventura. También le gustó la idea de conocer gente y animales nuevos. Espero que aprecien mi belleza, pensó Pierre.
Gideón trató de calmar a la asustada ave hablándole. “¡Te gustará mi granja! Y harás muchos amigos allí. ¡Ya verás!” le dijo él.

Gideon introduced the peacock to the backyard animals. “This beautiful bird is Pierre. He’ll live with us from now on. Be nice to him!” He warned the other birds.
Pierre shook out his tail feathers and settled on the fence. He was happy to see the ducks, geese, and chickens gathering around him to admire his beautiful feathers.
“Look! His feathers sparkle in the sunshine,” Duck said to the group of geese.

Gideón presentó el pavo real a los animales del patio trasero. “Esta hermosa ave es Pierre. Vivirá con nosotros de ahora en adelante. ¡Sean amables con él! Advirtió a las otras aves.
Pierre sacudió las plumas de su cola y se acomodó en la cerca. Estaba feliz de ver a los patos, gansos y gallinas reunidos a su alrededor para admirar sus hermosas plumas.
“¡Miren! Sus plumas brillan a la luz del sol”, dijo El Pato al grupo de gansos.

“Look at me! I’m beautiful. My beauty is undeniable,” Pierre boasted, enjoying the attention.
The ducks, chickens, and geese cheered. “Indeed, you are beautiful!” Chicken said.
“What’s all that ruckus about?” Donkey poked his head out of the barn. He looked at Pierre and called back to his best friend, “Hey, Sheep! Come out here! You’ve never seen such a gorgeous bird.”

“¡Mírenme! Soy hermoso. Mi belleza es innegable”, alardeaba Pierre, disfrutando de la atención.
Los patos, las gallinas y los gansos alentaban. “¡De hecho, eres hermoso!” Dijo La Gallina.
 “¿Qué es todo ese alboroto?” El Burro asomó la cabeza fuera del granero. Miró a Pierre y llamó a su mejor amigo: “¡Oye, Oveja! ¡Ven aquí! Nunca has visto una ave tan hermosa.”

The icy fingers of the unsettled past seem to follow bitter rivals from childhood.
An accomplished pianist disappears from her home in the middle of the night, wearing only her nightgown as her children and husband sleep soundly. As with several young women before her, it seems as if she had vanished into thin air, leaving no trace behind.
There are no clues as to what happened, and no evidence has been found during the thorough police investigation. Her distraught family is ready to do whatever it takes to bring the loving wife and mother home, alive.
Will the secrets of the past ever be revealed… or stay hidden forever? Are private investigators capable of accomplishing what the police cannot?
Only time will tell.
​

Prologue
As the young woman opened her eyes in total darkness, she felt dazed and disoriented. She tried to move her hand to find her comforter to cover up but couldn’t move. Fear froze her insides as she felt her hands tied behind her back and feet tightly bound as well. Where am I? How did I get here? Am I dreaming?  As she tugged at the ropes, the realization hit her hard when she felt the thin plastic cord cutting into her flesh. She wanted to scream but her mouth was chalk dry, she could only utter a whimpering sound.

She shifted her body. It feels like I’m lying on a damp concrete floor. How did I get here from my house, from my bed? Frantic thoughts were racing through her mind. She swallowed hard and tried to scream again. “Help!” she managed to croak out. “Somebody! Help me, please!” she sobbed.

“She’s up,” a man’s raspy whisper sounded as if he was behind a door. “Lemme see her,” he spoke, and she heard a low, squeaky sound as the doorknob was turned.

“Hands off, old man!” a deep, younger-sounding voice growled. “She’s not yours. He wants her. El maldito viejo Bastardo.” (*the damned old bastard*) He continued in Spanish.

“Solo puedo estar de acuerdo con esa afirmación, (*I can only agree with that statement*)” the man with the raspy voice replied in Spanish and switched to English. “Just a little peek. He doesn’t have to know.” He chuckled.

“I said, no!” the younger voice firmly replied. “The old man has a particular plan for this one. Hey, I didn’t know you speak Spanish!”

“You don’t know a thing about me, son. What does he want with her?” the other man inquired in a hushed tone.
​
“If you need to know, he’ll tell you. If not, keep your piehole shut. Let’s go! He’ll be here soon.”
The terrified woman lay on the cold floor, in the dark, afraid to move or make a sound. Please, God! What are they going to do to me?

​Chapter One
Atop a beautiful, fertile landscape by the Blue Mist Lake, the Wilbert mansion sits alone on the outskirts of the sleepy, country town. The lake acquired its name long ago because of its dark blue water and fine mist that lingers on the surface in the mornings, just before the sun peeks over the mountains surrounding the large lake.

Summer blooms are abundant along the driveway that leads to the main gate. A short drive up to the mansion also reveals an eye-pleasing view. It is beautifully landscaped with rhododendron, azalea, and Japanese maple trees lining the driveway that leads to a magnificent fountain in the center of the large, finely graveled area before the front door. The rectangular building with symmetrical windows designed in classical Georgian brick and stone style make this custom-made mansion stand out. Two large columns frame the wide mahogany door at the entrance, making it an impressive focal point. Located on both sides of the driveway, the garden provides cozy niches to relax and koi ponds to sit by for family and guests.

The mansion's interior is equally magnificent. A large hall leads to a formal dining room on the left and a luxuriously furnished sitting room and study on the right. An oak staircase splits in the middle after a wide landing that displays the life-size marble statues of famous composers. Red carpet covers the left side stairs that lead to the living quarters, which include luxurious bedrooms and bathrooms. Right-side stairs lead to guest rooms and an enormous family room with high-end, strategically placed paintings and artwork to entertain guests. This room also serves as the music room. There is a grand piano in the corner surrounded by invitingly comfortable overstuffed chairs.

A stargazing observatory built on the roof and equipped with the best telescopes under its dome-shaped glass roof is the most coveted spot in the mansion. During the late evening hours, the family loves to sit on comfortable recliners while sipping hot cocoa and stargazing through the varying sizes of telescopes.

In the back of the mansion is a small but elegant cobblestone cottage surrounded by trees. It provides a comfortable, private residence for John, the groundskeeper, and his wife, Matilda, his housekeeper/cook. Mr. Wilbert hired Matilda when she was a young girl. Her parents perished in a tragic house fire. She was alone, homeless, with no support. Her parents couldn’t afford the high insurance payments, and Matilda became penniless as well. Michael’s mother took the young girl under her wings and taught her everything she knew about housekeeping and cooking. When a handsome drifter moved into town and started doing gardening and odd jobs at the mansion, they fell in love and soon married. As a wedding present, Michael had the cottage built and offered lifetime employment to them. They have lived on the Wilbert Estate for decades.

Michael Wilbert, a compassionate, handsome, and always clean-shaven man in his early seventies, had been criticized for not hiring a steady staff of cleaners and maintenance people to take care of the huge estate, but as always, he ignores what others think of him. He strongly believes in regularly providing jobs to those who most need work at a particular time in their lives. He reasons that work is scarce in the quiet countryside towns, and rotating the workers regularly gives more people a chance to earn a decent living. He trusts his estate manager and his staff to organize and supervise the work on the estate and to hire people from the surrounding areas to do various jobs.
​
Michael declines most of the invitations to parties being thrown by the influential crowd in the surrounding counties. Even though he tells people he enjoys his secluded lifestyle, in reality, he despises the show-off parties and the snobby people kissing and stabbing each other. He tells his friends, “I keep my friends close, but I don’t need to keep my enemies closer. Attorneys and the Private Investigation Firm I trust give me all the information I need about my enemies.” 
Despite being one of the wealthiest people in the country, Michael Wilbert has never forgotten his roots.

The flashing lights of the ambulance illuminated the night as it came to a stop at the entrance of the bustling hospital. The doors flew open, and they wheeled in Remi on a stretcher.
A kind-looking nurse with blonde hair approached them with a warm smile. “Hello dear, my name is Anna,” she introduced herself before leading them to Bed B.

With gentle hands and a sense of urgency, they carefully transferred Remi onto the bed as Anna immediately began assessing her condition. She listened intently to her lungs, checking for any signs of distress.

As Anna worked, the paramedic gave his report, and she quickly started an IV line in Remi's hand. Meanwhile, a nurse's aide unhooked Remi’s oxygen tube from the tank, connected the tube to the central connection, and attached the cardiac monitor electrodes to her chest.
The heavy curtain that separated the beds was suddenly pulled aside with a loud swoosh. In its place stood a tall man with thick, salt-and-pepper hair. He swept his gaze across the small cubicle before fixing his attention on Remi. Introducing himself as Dr. Schwarz, he took note of the discarded nebulizer pipe lying on her bed before directing his piercing blue eyes to her face and hands. “Let me listen to your lungs,” he said in a no-nonsense tone, holding out his stethoscope.

Remi nodded weakly and struggled to sit up, wincing at the sharp pain in her chest. The doctor placed the cold metal against her skin and listened intently to her lung sounds, his brow furrowing in concern. After a moment, he asked, “How long have you been dealing with asthma?”

“Since...as far back as I can remember,” Remi gasped out between ragged breaths, beads of sweat forming on her forehead. “I take preventive medications and usually use my nebulizer during sudden attacks, but I didn’t have any solution and the inhaler didn’t help.”

The doctor's expression turned sympathetic as he nodded understandingly. “We'll get you taken care of,” he assured her before turning to the nurse.

“It’s my fault!” Emily informed the doctor with tears in her eyes. “Remi is staying with me while her parents are in South America with Doctors Without Borders, and I didn’t know she’s allergic to cats.”

“It’s okay,” Dr. Schwarz spoke in a soothing voice. “We’ll make her better, but I’m afraid, you need to get rid of your cat.”

“It’s not mine, just cat-sitting for a friend, but I’m going to call my other friends right now. I’m sure one of them will take the cat,” Emily said and pulled out her cell phone. “I’ll be in the waiting room,” she flashed a nervous smile at the young girl and hurried out of the room.

The doctor turned to the nurse. “Anna, let’s give her 125 Solumedrol, hook her up for continuous nebulizer, and get a portable chest X-ray as well.”

The nurse nodded and left the room. The doctor smiled, pulled the curtain that separated Remi’s room from bed C, and greeted the patient. “Hi Konrad, are you ready?”

“Yes,” sounded a young boy’s voice.

The doctor stopped for a second, thinking, and then turned back to Remi. “Do you speak German by any chance?” he asked.

Caught off guard by the unexpected question, Remi hesitated before responding. Despite having learned the language from her nanny since she was a toddler until high school, she decided against admitting it upon seeing the doctor's peculiar expression.

“No, but I speak French,” she replied.

“Never mind, I just thought... because of your last name, Hansen,” he mumbled, stepping out of the room, and pulling the curtain closed behind him.

That was strange. Why did he ask me if I speak German? Perhaps he doesn’t want me to know what they’re talking about in the next cubicle. Remi wondered, listening to the conversation coming from behind the curtain.

“Are you sure you want it done this way?” Dr. Schwarz asked, speaking in German, and continued. “Don’t worry, the girl in that bed doesn’t understand the language.”

Remi heard a boy's and an older-sounding man’s voices answering, “Yes, we definitely want the treatment.” And the older voice continued. “My son is sixteen, and with cystic fibrosis and rare blood type, finding a cure or donor is close to impossible. He might have a year left. But with your treatment, he could live a full, healthy life.”

She heard the doctor’s sigh, as he said, “I want to make sure you understand what will happen after the treatment.”

Konrad assured the doctor, “We thought it over very carefully what you said, and I fully understand the benefits. And...” he hesitated. “And I accept the obligation that comes with your treatment as well.”

“We took the necessary precautions as you instructed, and his handler will arrive tomorrow to discuss more details with us. Everything is ready,” The older man said.

“Okay, I’ll be back in a minute,” the doctor replied.

Remi wondered what that treatment was. Poor Konrad. He’s my age and it sounds like he doesn’t have long to live. That’s terrible. Remi though, feeling so much empathy for the boy. But why didn’t the doctor say medication or something specific? He repeated the German word behandlung, which means treatment. And because we’re in the hospital it must be medical treatment.

​Continue reading on AMAZON available in KU 

#KindleUnlimited #kindle #fiction #suspense #thriller #medicalThriller #unconventionalTreatment

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.

Emma finished her patient notes and gave her report to the evening shift nurse before changing clothes and rushing to the garage. For once, she would be able to leave work on time. She thought back to days when she had to pull double shifts or when the chaos of the ER made it nearly impossible to finish her paperwork in a timely fashion. As she drove home, Emma called her husband.

"Are you working overtime again?" Paul asked with a laugh.

"No, for once I'll even have time to cook dinner," Emma replied.

"Wow, that's rare," Paul chuckled, knowing how often he had to work late at his law firm and rarely had time to finish his work before 5 pm. "Do you mind if I invite Steve over for dinner? He has an investment proposal and I'd rather discuss it at home than in the office."

"Of course, darling," Emma said with a bright, cheery tone. "Then I'll defrost the lasagna and take out the German cherry cake from the freezer that I picked up last week. It will give me time to tidy up before you arrive home."

"That sounds perfect, sweetheart! We'll be home by six."

On her way home, Emma couldn't resist stopping at a charming farmstand she passed by. She carefully selected fresh lettuce, crisp radishes, juicy tomatoes, and crunchy cucumbers to create a delicious salad.

As the food thawed, Emma tackled some light cleaning tasks around the house. She ran the vacuum over the carpets, dusted the surfaces, and even managed to squeeze in a quick shower before five o'clock rolled around. As she dried her hair, she tried to recall Steve's face. She had only met Paul's business manager once at a party nearly a year ago, and their exchange was brief and polite. Despite not knowing much about him, he seemed like a decent person and Paul had never said anything negative about him. The firm was successful and catered to affluent clients, a fact that Emma knew from casual conversations with her husband. Curiosity piqued as she wondered what kind of proposal Steve might have in store for them. Since their marriage three years ago, Emma made a conscious effort not to pry into Paul's work life and only knew snippets of information that he shared with her voluntarily.

Shortly after six, they arrived, but as soon as she looked at her husband’s face, Emma knew something was wrong. The slight frown on his handsome features was a rare display of emotion for him, but Emma had learned to read his subtle signs over the years. His tense posture and the way he shot a quick glance at their guest, Steve, told her that something was very wrong. She raised her eyebrows in question but remained quiet and followed Paul's lead as they ushered Steve into the living room.

Paul expertly mixed cocktails for them all, but Emma could sense the tension in the air. As they sat down, Paul turned to Steve with a calm yet controlled demeanor. "Before you tell me about your investment plans, let me ask you something," he said in a low voice.

Emma watched with growing alarm as her husband's jaw tightened, signaling his underlying anger. She couldn't imagine what would come next. It must be something very serious. She thought. Otherwise, he would talk about business after dinner, as he usually does.

"Tell me about the two hundred thousand dollars," Paul's voice rose slightly, revealing his true emotions towards their guest.

Steve's hand shook and he jolted in his seat, spilling a few drops of his drink onto his lap. His eyes widened in surprise as Paul confronted him about missing money.

"Why are you asking me?" Steve stammered, trying to compose himself.

"Because the accountant called me just before we left to ask about one of our bank accounts," Paul explained. "He said he couldn't find the statement for the interest we had been paid on that account. I didn't want to cause a scene in the office, so I'm asking you now. Where is the money?"

"I had nothing to do with it!" Steve exclaimed, his face turning red with anger as he stood up. "Are you accusing me of something?"

"Yes!" Paul fumed; his frustration evident. "I checked with the bank, and they informed me that the account we had 210 thousand dollars in now only has eight thousand. What did you do with the missing money?"

“I… I’m leaving! You can’t just accuse me of something I didn’t do,” Steve mumbled, putting his glass on the coffee table.

“You’re not going anywhere until you answer my question!”

Paul's voice echoed through the room, loud and forceful as he jumped up to block Steve's path toward the door. Emma shrunk back into the far corner of the sofa, her heart racing as she watched them. Paul, usually calm and collected, now had a fiery rage burning in his eyes. She had never seen him like this before.

​Emma grew accustomed to Paul arriving home late each night. She knew he was filling in for Steve's job until a replacement could be found, so she accepted his long hours with understanding. She had become accustomed to eating dinner alone and going to bed alone in their silent apartment.

But one night, her peaceful slumber was abruptly interrupted by the shrill ring of her phone. Bleary-eyed and disoriented, she squinted at the caller ID and recognized it as Clarice's number. The two had been best friends since childhood and Clarice lived in the building next door. Still half-asleep, Emma fumbled and managed to hit the accept button with shaking fingers. "He's dead!" She was jolted awake by Clarice's frantic scream on the other end of the line.

"What? Who?" Emma croaked out, sitting up in bed and swinging her feet to the floor. "Where are you?"

"I... I'm on the street," Clarice stammered, panic evident in her voice. "I called the police. He's dead!"

Emma's heart raced as she struggled to make sense of Clarice's words. "Who is dead?" she asked in terror, as images of everyone she knew flashed through her mind. Quickly pulling on her slippers and yanking up her jeans, Emma braced herself for whatever awaited her on the other side of her apartment door.

“Hurry!” Clarice moaned and choked up, her sobs echoing through the phone. Emma's heart raced as she listened to her best friend's distraught voice. Without a second thought, she ran out of her second-floor apartment, slamming the door behind her in haste. Her chestnut hair flew wildly behind her as she took the steps two at a time, determined to reach Clarice as quickly as possible.

As she burst into the lobby and rushed towards the front door, Emma could hear Clarice's cries growing louder. "Stay with me, Clarice! I'm coming," she shouted into the phone, hoping her words would provide some comfort to her friend.

But as Emma swung open the front door and stepped outside, she froze in shock. Police cars screeched to a halt in front of the building, their flashing blue and red lights casting an eerie glow over the usually tranquil neighborhood.

The normally peaceful sidewalk was now filled with chaos. Her best friend, Clarice, knelt by a seemingly lifeless body, her hands covered in blood. Emma's eyes widened in disbelief as she noticed a long blade bloody knife resting on the ground by Clarice's knee.

Her mind raced as she tried to process what could have possibly led to this gruesome scene. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest as she looked at Clarice's tear-stained face and then down at the lifeless body. The realization hit her like a ton of bricks - Clarice had killed Brian.

"What...how did...what did you do?" Emma stuttered, unable to believe what she was seeing. As if in slow motion, Clarice turned to look at Emma with haunted eyes and whispered, “I didn’t! I swear! How could you think I did?” Clarice looked up at her with deep betrayal and hurt flashing in her eyes.
​
“It’s Paul!” Emma cried out when she recognized the man with a bloody wound in the middle of his chest and dropped to her knees. She hugged her husband’s still body to her chest. “It’s Paul! How did he get here?” Emma sobbed hysterically, knowing that her husband always used the elevator from the garage to go up to their apartment. “This is not happening!” she screamed.
​
Read the full story in the What If? #3 Anthology

Midnight Murder by Erika M Szabo
Emma’s trust in her psychic abilities solidified and she learned an important lesson about blind trust – even in those who she thought were closest to her.

Unexpected Trip by Lorraine Carey
A teacher faints at an Egyptian exhibit and has a vivid dream in Pompeii during the volcanic eruption. Was it a dream or did she travel through time?

Thy Sister’s Blood by David W. Thompson
Friends on a haunted creek uncover ancient relations. Magic and mystery drive this journey of self-discovery with the enduring power of family.

The Ominous Sound of Stiletto Heels by Erika M Szabo
The sound of Madame Chloe’s red stiletto heels in the hallways would quiet the students and teachers. When she walked by, an icy chill filled the air.

The Way to a Man’s Heart by Shebat Legion
A Siren demonstrates her full vocal range, much to the dismay of a man caught in a trap of his own design.

Shadowman by Erika M Szabo
Their ultimate goal is a brighter future for all humanity. A world free of destruction and chaos.

Careful What You Wish For by David W. Thompson
At last, Victor finds his dream girl! But is it a match made in heaven or a far darker place? Love conquers all... or the dream becomes a nightmare.

Happily Ever After, and After by Shebat Legion
A woman revisits memories that are all too real, or are they? What makes a memory real?

I Love You Forever by Martha Perez
Can their love endure? Nicole, battling cancer, finds hope with Noah. Will they overcome life's challenges and keep their vow to love forever?

Jimmy’s Clown by David W. Thompson
Brothers stick together, and childhood pranks are soon forgotten. But old grudges can fade slowly or swell with age like the nose of a clown.

Eye of the Jaguar by Robert Allen Lupton
An explorer falls onto an altar stone. He wakes to an ancient nightmare of Mayan jaguar worship. Can he save his humanity and return to modern times?

Unsung Heroes y Erika M Szabo
If people knew what the biker gang did and were not expecting any reward or recognition, these unsung heroes would be celebrated by many.
​
The Prodigal Daughter by R.A. “Doc” Correa
Cassandra Lynn Anderson, a haunted young woman, learns the terrifying truth of her origin.

My main message in writing this post is to challenge the idea that people from different countries, who may not fully understand the language or be accustomed to a new way of life, are often automatically considered "stupid." In fact, they may come from a culture with a wealth of knowledge and traditions that we can learn from.

I grew up in the picturesque landscapes of Hungary, surrounded by the enchanting melodies of Hungarian folk music and the savory aroma of traditional goulash simmering on the stove. However, my journey led me across oceans to the United States three and a half decades ago. The transition was akin to a butterfly emerging from its chrysalis - challenging yet exhilarating. Embracing a new language and lifestyle was like mastering a complex dance, each step a blend of excitement and uncertainty.

The people I encountered in this new land varied in their reception. Many extended warm embraces, eager to share their customs and learn about mine. Yet, there were others whose eyes bore traces of disdain, their words dripping with condescension. "Stupid foreigners," they would scoff under their breath when met with my linguistic stumbles.

But let's delve deeper into this notion: the term "stupid" falls short in capturing the essence of most immigrants, irrespective of their origins. It is an oversimplification that fails to acknowledge the rich tapestry of experiences and knowledge they bring. Terms like "ignorant" or "unintelligent" are often misused in similar contexts. "Stupid" implies a lack across various facets - intelligence, wisdom, discernment, and agility of thought. In contrast, "unintelligent" denotes a constrained capacity for learning and comprehension, while "ignorance" speaks more to a gap in knowledge rather than intellect.

Allow me to unveil a treasure trove of marvels crafted by Hungarian visionaries - testaments to the ingenuity that pulses through the veins of this remarkable nation.
Let’s start with the ballpoint pen:
Invented by László Bíró, 1931
Write your shopping list with the ballpoint pen and put it on the refrigerator with a magnet:
Invented by Leó Szilard 1929
Lit your gas stove with a noiselessly igniting phosphorous match:
Invented by János Irinyi 1836
While listening to a CD, look at the hologram sticker on the cover:
Invented by Dénes Gábor, 1947
Take your vitamin C:
Discovered by Szentgyörgyi 1931
Make a phone call from your landline phone:
Invented by Tivadar Puskás 1878
Today, computers are part of our lives. Basic Computer system:
Invented by János Hard 1964
When you organize your tasks into Excel spreadsheets, remember:
Invented by Károly Simonyi 1974
Ever watched a 3D movie with 3D glasses?
Invented by Dániel Rátai 2010
Have you ever listened to a vinyl record on his traditional turntable?
Invented by Károly Goldmark 1948
Are you watching a color TV?
Invented by Károly Goldmark, 1948
Are you enjoying the view of Central Park in New York?
Sándor Asbóth prepared the layout plan of the city
Have you marveled at the moon car?
Invented by Ferenc Pávlics, c. 1960
Have you solved the Rubik's Cube?
Invented by Ernő Rubik, 1976
You snap a picture with your automatic camera:
Invented by József Mihályi 1938
Do you wear contact lenses?
Invented by József Dallos 1928
And soft contact lenses:
Invented by István Gyorffy 1959
About cars: Ford Model T
József Galamb 1908
BMW with a diesel engine:
Ferenc Ansits 1983
Chevrolet with an automatic transmission:
László Bíró 1932
There was even a VW beetle because of its special design:
Béla Barényi, 1925
Carburetor:
Invented by János Csonka 1893
Dynamo:
Invented by Ányos Jedlik 1861
When you see a helicopter landing, thank:
Oszkár Asbóth1928
Krypton-filled lamp:
Invented by Imre Bródy 1930
You might regularly drink some kind of soda. Right?
Invented by Ányos Jedlik 1940

These are just a few of the many inventions created by Hungarians that have made our lives easier.

The antagonists, (the villains or bad guys) are an essential component of literature. They are often responsible for creating the conflict that propels the story forward and provides the necessary tension to keep the reader engaged. These characters are essential components of any good story. They bring the necessary conflict, tension, and unexpected twists to the plot, and help move the story forward. Without them, a story can become dull and predictable.

Villains serve as the primary obstacle for the protagonist, and the role of the villain is to provide a challenge for the protagonist, (the heroes or good guys), to keep them on their toes, and to create obstacles that they must overcome. This conflict is what adds complexity and depth to the plot and makes the story interesting and engaging for the reader. It is the clash of opposing forces that creates the tension and drama that captivates readers.

Moreover, the antagonists are often used to highlight the flaws and weaknesses of the protagonist. By creating a character that embodies all or most of the qualities that the protagonist lacks.

Furthermore, villains can also help the reader empathize with the protagonist. The more a villain is developed, the more the reader can understand the protagonist's motives, fears, and aspirations.

Finally, villains are instrumental in the resolution of the story.
For example, in the classic novel, "Wuthering Heights" by Emily Brontë, Heathcliff serves as an antagonist, but his tragic backstory helps the reader understand his motivations and sympathize with him.

Another example, in the alternate history-magical realism novel
"The Ancestors' Secrets" by Erika M Szabo. Mora is a classic through and through villain. Yet as we learn more and more about her backstory, we're almost starting to understand what drives her and empathize with her, until her next cruel act... when we're passionately hating her again. 

There's something undeniably fascinating about witches and witchcraft. Perhaps it's the mystery and magic surrounding them, or the idea of wielding supernatural powers beyond the comprehension of mere mortals. Whatever scientific understanding we have gained has only increased interest in witches and their magical practices, leading to further research and discoveries that leave us wondering – are witches real? Although some stories may be pure fiction, there are many traditions and beliefs that have become a part of our modern world.

One of the most intriguing aspects of witchcraft is the distinction between white and black magic. White magic is often associated with healing, love, and positivity, while black magic is associated with curses, manipulation, and harm. Some believe that all magic has the potential for both good and evil, depending on how it is used.

Potions are also a common trope in witchcraft. From love potions to poisonous concoctions, potions are seen as a powerful tool for witches to achieve their desired outcomes. The idea of mixing together various ingredients to create a magical elixir is both mystical and alluring. Potions are often brewed using various herbs, roots and other ingredients, and can be used for a variety of purposes such as healing, love spells, and even to cause harm to others.

A young adult supernatural fantasy by Erika M Szabo, is about a love potion made with haste out of jealousy, and the potion 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, but the young apprentices volunteer to make the journey that will test their loyalty and courage. Will they succeed? The book is available in English and Spanish.

But perhaps one of the most fascinating aspects of witchcraft is the idea of premonitions. Premonitions are visions of the future, brought about through spirits.

A cozy supernatural thriller by Erika M Szabo combines witchcraft with jealousy and evil intent to commit a crime.
Lauren has everything she’d ever wished for. Great career, financial security, loving husband, and devoted friends. While enjoying her perfect life filled with success and love, she is blissfully unaware of the danger lurking in the shadows. When her Raven spirit guide shrieks out a warning, it's already too late for Lauren to protect herself, with the ancient witchcraft spell taught to her by her grandmother. An assailant breaks into her office and brutally attacks her. With the Raven's repeated warnings echoing in her head, and no time to react, Lauren knows that her life is still under threat--but who wants her dead? And why? The book is available in English and Spanish.

Gossiping has been around for centuries, and it continues to be a popular pastime even in today's digital age. There is something alluring about hearing the juicy details of someone's personal life and sharing it with others. People love gossip because it satisfies their innate curiosity about the lives of others, and it also offers a way to bond with others over shared knowledge.

One of the primary reasons people spread gossip is because it provides a sense of power and control. When someone is privy to information that others are not, it gives them a sense of superiority and allows them to feel like they are in the know. Additionally, spreading gossip can be a way to gain attention and affirmation from others, which can be a powerful motivator for some individuals.

Another reason people love gossip is that it can be exciting. Hearing about someone else's secrets or scandals can be thrilling, as it provides a glimpse into a world that may not be visible on the surface. Gossip can also be a source of drama and entertainment, as people love to hear about the ups and downs of others' lives.

Unfortunately, many people don't bother verifying whether the gossip they're spreading is true or false because they are more interested in the drama and excitement of the story than the facts. Additionally, some people may not fully understand, or don't think about the consequences.

Spreading rumors or lies about another person could destroy his or her reputation, ruin the victim's life, and even bring legal trouble for the eager gossip.

It is so easy to spread false, assumed bits of information when you have 2.4 billion people on Facebook, one or two billion on Twitter and Instagram, and billions more on YouTube and Reddit.

For example, when #MeghanMarkle had meetings with Gordon Getty, some of the busy buddy influencers jumped into the conclusion that Meghan was pregnant with the 89-year-old man's baby. Why do they spread unconfirmed gossip?

A young man said once, "If you don't have at least a million followers, you're irrelevant. I post about anything that grabs the attention of my followers and keeps them talking. If I don't, I lose followers; I become an insignificant nobody."

What do you think?

As a fiction writer, I firmly believe in the power of stories to shape the minds and hearts of young children. Reading books can expand their imagination, increase their vocabulary, and develop their critical thinking skills. When we expose children to a variety of fiction stories, we are giving them a gift that will last a lifetime.

Stories have a unique power to trigger a child's imagination, and an incredible tool to help children develop their imagination and creativity. From a young age, children love to hear and read stories, whether they are fairy tales, adventure stories, or tales of superheroes. As they listen to these stories, their minds are transported to exciting new worlds where anything is possible.

They learn about the world around them, new vocabulary, and different cultures and traditions. They also learn to empathize with others and to see things from different perspectives. Furthermore, they learn about empathy, courage, and how to deal with difficult situations. They also learn about different cultures and worlds, expanding their horizons and encouraging them to explore new ideas.

Stories can also help children to develop their own sense of self. They may fantasize about being the brave knight who saves the princess, or the superhero who saves the day. By imagining themselves in these roles, children learn to see themselves as capable and powerful. This helps them become more open-minded and accepting of others, which is an important skill for navigating the world.

Imagination is a crucial part of a child's development, and reading stories is one of the best ways to encourage this. When children imagine themselves in different roles and situations, they are developing their creativity and problem-solving skills.

Sex and gender are complex topics that require a great deal of emotional and intellectual maturity to understand. Young children are not equipped to handle the weight of these concepts, and it is up to adults to shield them from it until they are ready.

The innocence of children is a fragile thing. They are born into a world of wonder and discovery, and it is up to us as adults to ensure that they are free to explore and learn without being burdened by the heavier aspects of life.

For adults, sex and gender may seem like everyday matters, but for children, they are concepts shrouded in mystery and confusion. Explaining these complex topics to a child can be difficult and even detrimental to their growth and development. Children are not ready to handle the nuances of sex and gender, and it is not their place to do so.

As parents and caregivers, it is our responsibility to protect their innocence. Sex and gender are just two of the many topics that children should be sheltered from until they are old enough to comprehend.

Carrie Wimmer, a talented narrator, mentioned to me that she's been teaching children about narration at her local school's after school program. Carrie has a beautiful voice, she narrated three of my audiobooks.

​Carrie was looking for a book with short dialogs that would be suitable for children to read, so I offered one of my children's book, Meetoo The Annoying Little Sister.

The children are excited about the project, and Carrie said that they have lots of fun practicing and recording the character lines with Carrie's guidance.
Meanwhile, the children are learning how to set up a soundproof room, what kind of equipments they need, and how to edit the audio they recorded.

I'm a huge supporter of children's art, music, and reading programs that helps to develop young children's creativity and imagination while having fun. Carrie's after school program fulfills this role.

I truly appreciate the school administrator's efforts and support to make this program possible!
​
And a heartfelt thank you to Carrie for volunteering to teach the children about the magical world of book narration!   

To protect the children's privacy when posting about the project, I created avatars for the children who participate in the recording. The parents and the school allowed to add the children's full names to the avatars they chose.

Some of the characters are assigned and the recording began. I'm looking forward to listening to the recordings with great excitement.

Not that long ago people could not believe that a woman could ever do something significant and men took all the credit for their work.

Let's remember these amazing women who made our lives better, most of them without being recognized for their contribution. 

​#women #womenempowerment #womensupportingwomen #female #inventors

You're a vegetarian. 
A. You don't eat meat.
B. You want all meat products banned for everyone.

When things are not going well.
A. You think about how to make your situation better.
B. You blame the government and everyone you can think of but don't do anything.

You don't like a TV news channel's political reports.
A. You switch channels.
B. You demand the channel to be shut down.

You don't agree with someone's opinion on social media.
A. You say: I respectfully disagree, and you move on, but you might unfollow the person's posts.
B. You blow up, call the person all kinds of names, and then report and block them.

You're a non-believer.
A. You don't go to church, but you respect the rights of others who do.
B. You want any mention of God and religion banned.

You don't have health insurance.
A. You shop around to find a suitable one, or you may choose a job that provides it.
B. You demand free healthcare and you don't care who pays for it. 

You don't approve of guns.
A. You don't have one.
B. You want all guns outlawed.

More and more people are becoming intolerant, angry, unhappy, uncompassionate, cruel, and totally selfish. Me. me, me is their main focus while preaching tolerance and inclusion, but they tolerate only those who agree with them and step on those who dares to voice a different opinion. 
​It's a sad world we live in!

Despite what they said the reason was to give up being working royals is to have privacy, it seems Harry and Meghan are constantly in the spotlight. Are they seeking attention or is it the morbid fascination of people that puts them in the spotlight?

I can't help but feeling sad for him. People in the UK and most countries around the world loved him from the time he was born. But now...
Something is very wrong with this man. He's entitled to his opinion just like everyone else, but when he's preaching about climate change yet travels everywhere with a private jet and gas guzzling SUVs... And then associates himself with the people who are suffering from the economic changes and high prices. Hey, duke and duchess, why don't you give up your mansion, designer clothes and jewelry to help the homeless? Oh, because you are entitled to it. Gotcha! 

And Meghan. She doesn't want the stuffy British title but seems to me she's fighting tooth and nail to keep it without lifting a finger for the privilege. Yea, it used to open doors for the actress that were closed to her before, but now it seems like a lot of doors are closing despite having the title. The gossip wheels are turning that she made money by being a "yacht girl" and had a connection with questionable people... Are those gossips about her marriages, the daughter she gave up and two fake pregnancies are true? I don't know, and honestly, I don't really care. In her past, she did what she had to do, it's her business.

I wish the best for them and their families, but I can't help feeling that a dark cloud is following Harry and it's closing in on him.

There are thousands of great books out there for toddlers, but let me introduce 2 of my books.
For 1-2 year old children, board books are recommended because they're more interested in colorful pictures, flipping the pages and chewing the book than having a story read to them.

By the age of 3-4, toddlers can can follow stories and sit still for longer stories than they might have as 2-year-olds. In general, toddlers are ready to dive into stories that are more interactive and layered. Though they’ll still love a simple book about concepts like colors, numbers, or animals.

In my dream, I was sitting on my bed. I felt so peaceful and happy that words cannot describe that beautiful feeling.
I looked up and saw two white feathers floating down to my lap. I thought, "These are the purest white feathers I've even seen." I picked up one of the feathers and marveled at its silky smoothness when a beautiful blue feather appeared next to the white one, on my cover. The dream must have lasted only for a few seconds, but it left a powerful feeling.

Since I woke up, still enjoying the lingering peaceful feeling, I couldn't get the beautiful dream out of my mind. I told my friend about it, and she told me that I had been granted a blessing, and that I should pass it on to those who suffer and need the power of blessing. She also said that the blue feather is a sign of the Blessed Mother, and the white feathers are the sign of angel visitation.

I don't know. It really made me think, and I admit, it gave me goosebumps too because I'm not as deeply spiritual as my dear friend. But if I indeed had been granted a blessing through a beautiful, peaceful dream, I want to pass it on.

To my family, my friends, and to those who most need it:
To people who feel desperate, fearful, and uncertain, because of the ever changing opinions of the pandemic and political situation that claims many innocent lives.
To people who are sick and can't get lifesaving medicine because of the greed of the drug companies.
To innocent children around the world who are forced to work in dangerous mines without safety equipment to feed their families and stuff the pockets of the rich.
To desperate families who are forced to sell their children to brothels to feed the rest of their families.
The list is endless and it's too painful for most of us to think about all those who suffer because we desperately want to help, but we feel powerless.
​
There is so much pain and suffering in the world that makes people turn against each other. We would need a miracle to make Mother Earth a peaceful place.

If indeed this dream had been a message and blessing, love and help one another instead of hurting each other. 

An alternate history fantasy novel series.
Ilona resigns to live the simple life of a small-town doctor, but her life goes into a tailspin on her birthday. After being thrust into a world of clan mysteries, obscure traditions, and beliefs, Ilona’s life is drastically changing. She starts to develop unusual powers which she finds exciting as well as frightening.

The benefits of cocoa, the main ingredient of chocolate:

• Powerful source of antioxidants.
• May improve blood flow and lower blood pressure.
• Raises HDL and protects LDL from oxidation.
• May reduce heart disease risk.
• May protect your skin from the sun.
• Could improve brain function.

The stores are loaded with Halloween candy already, and I usually stack up on the best ones in time, before they sell out. I love chocolate, and I treat myself to a piece of my favorites, every day.

However, I'm ashamed to admit that my most favorites, the creamy, melt in your mouth scrumptious truffles usually don't make it into the treat bowl.
Okay, I’m a little selfish when it comes to my chocolate.

A chocoholic is a person who craves or compulsively consumes chocolate. The word chocoholic come from playfully blending the words "chocolate" and "alcoholic".

The term is used loosely or humorously to describe a person who is inordinately fond of chocolate. However, there is medical evidence to support the existence of actual addiction to chocolate.

Chocolate is not a controlled substance, and it cannot be prescribed, which means, it is not a drug.

Researchers have found that cocoa, the main ingredient in chocolate, causes the brain to release the “feel good” chemicals, called endorphins.
​
The sugar in the chocolate also plays a role in this. Because the insulin released in response to the sugar facilitates the release of tryptophan to the brain, the effect is the feeling of happiness.

​You can eat chocolate, even on a diet, and yes, it is okay to eat chocolate every day. Thinking of a diet as daily deprivation makes people feeling sad, cheated, and unsatisfied. Instead, look at diet in a different way. Take all the foods you eat into account.

Even though quality dark chocolate is a better choice than milk chocolate, it is still chocolate. It's high in calories and saturated fat.

​To avoid weight gain, it’s been recommended eating no more than 1 ounce of chocolate per day, dark chocolate is a better choice.

You can beat your excessive chocolate cravings by filling up on something else before you treat yourself. Once you aren't hungry anymore, the intrusive thoughts about chocolate should subside, and you’d be satisfied with eating a small piece.

​Look for foods that are low in sugar and high in protein or whole grains. These foods will keep you full longer, and also prevent a sugar crash.

Perhaps your body lacking something that causes to crave chocolate. Chocolate cravings are often caused by low magnesium levels, just like cravings for meat or cheese are seen as a sign of low iron or calcium levels.

​You can lessen food cravings by providing your body with the vital nutrients it needs to correct the nutrient deficiency.

Historically chocolate has been reported to exert several effects on human sexuality, mainly acting as an effective aphrodisiac by increasing desire and improving pleasure.

I've earned my RN license long ago and have administered thousands of intramuscular (IM) injections and vaccines.
In the past, when administering IM injections, aspirating was standard practice to ensure that the tip of the needle had not hit a blood vessel.

1. Locate injection site
To isolate the muscle and target where you’ll place the injection, spread the skin at the injection site between two fingers.
Read the atricle
Symptoms from improperly administered vaccinations - known as SIRVA, for "shoulder injury related to vaccine administration'' - include chronic pain, limited range of motion, nerve damage, frozen shoulder (the inability to move the shoulder) and rotator cuff tear.
Read a patient's story

2. Clean injection site
Clean the site selected for injection with an alcohol swab and allow the skin to air dry.

3. Prepare syringe with medication
Remove the cap. If the vial or pen is multi-dose, take a note about when the vial was first opened. The rubber stopper should be cleaned with an alcohol swab.
​
4. Draw air into the syringe
Draw back the plunger to fill the syringe with air up to the dose that you’ll be injecting. This is done because the vial is a vacuum and you need to add an equal amount of air to regulate the pressure.

5. Insert air into the vial
Remove the cap from the needle and push the needle through the rubber stopper at the top of the vial. Inject all of the air into the vial. Be careful to not touch the needle to keep it clean.

6. Withdraw the medication
Turn the vial and syringe upside down so the needle points upward and pull back on the plunger to withdraw the correct amount of medication.

7. Remove air bubbles
Tap the syringe to push any bubbles to the top and gently depress the plunger to push the air bubbles out.

8. Insert the needle
Hold the needle like a dart and insert it into the muscle at a 90-degree angle. You should insert the needle in a quick, but controlled manner.
​Do not push the plunger in.
​
9. Check for blood!
Pull back on the plunger slightly, looking for blood in the syringe. 
If you see blood going into the syringe, it means the tip of the needle is in a blood vessel. If this happens, withdraw the needle and begin again with a new needle, syringe with medication, and injection site.

What happens if you give an IM injection in a blood vessel?
"When injecting, ensure that no blood vessels are touched. If blood is visible in the syringe when pulling the syringe plunger back towards you, immediately remove the needle and press on the injection site to stop the bleeding. 
A broken blood vessel causes internal bleeding within the muscle. You may feel pain and stiffness in the muscle. When a blood vessel breaks, scar tissue or blood clots can form and if a blood clot starts to wander and reaches the heart or lungs, the consequences can be life-threatening.  Injections that hit an artery can be particularly dangerous."
Source

"Recent global studies suggest that wrong injection techniques used to administer Covid-19 vaccines may be a reason behind incidences of blood clots being reported post vaccination.
If the technique of administering the injection is wrong, the vaccine could get injected into the blood stream instead of reaching the muscle. This can lead to blood clots, health experts said."
Source

I'm in the middle of rewriting my historical suspense story, Unbroken Curse, that I published in 2016. The past 5 years I've grown a lot as a writer, so I thought that it's about time to revisit the old story.
In my early books, The Ancestor's Secrets series (2012), which is next on my needs-rewriting-list, I had a tendency to keep going on and on about parts that didn't really move the story forward, but later on my writing style turned into a more minimalist scene and character description.
What is your opinion?

Personally, when I read a story, I get easily annoyed by extremely detailed descriptions.
If the story plays out in present time and the author describes the character's outfit in minute details, it doesn't even give me a chance to use my imagination.
​This is not from an actual book, but I've read something similar:
She had shoulder length, platinum blond curly hair. She was tall and skinny with long legs. Her face oval shaped, sky-blue eyes large with long lashes. She stood in front of the walk-in closet selecting her outfit for the meeting. She chose a teal-blue knee length dress that accentuated her womanly curves. Next, she picked her black Italian leather open toed high-heels that showed off her freshly pedicured, coral-pink nails.   
You get the picture. For me, it's too long and way too detailed.  

Here is another example of the minimalist description:
The tall security guard walked down the path between the thick bushes to the clearing where the archeological team parked their cars. Despite his promise, his porky partner’s chin dropped to his chest as soon as he was out of sight. I’ll just close me eyes for a moment. He though. His breathing slowed as he fell asleep.
​
​What do you think? Do the two characters need more detailed description?

In this part of the story that plays out in the 400s, I felt like a lot more description was necessary because readers are not familiar with the style of this age in central Europe.
Elana hurried up to the entrance of the tent-like building, called Jurta, with a few long strides. Parting her kaftan-like dark blue overcoat, she pulled up her baggy trousers and smoothed her tunic that her mother had adorned with delicate flower designs. Pulling the leather entrance cover aside with a heavy sigh, she braced herself mentally for the long lecture of her mother that she knew she must endure.
As usual, she was late for her herbal lessons with her mother, a beautiful, statuesque, dark-haired woman who slowly rose from a curved sofa-like piece of furniture. Soft light coming from the opening at the ceiling shone on her green, delicately decorated calf-length tunic that she wore with loose black trousers. Her hair was braided with thin leather thongs and hugged her shoulders.
Do you think it's unnecessarily too detailed?

​The old stone mill quarry in the mountains on the Northeast side of Hungary had been buzzing with activity for days. Archaeologists found 16th century artifacts the year before, but when they restarted the site in the spring and dug deeper, they’d unearthed an ancient burial site in the six-foot-deep layer. As the initial assessment estimated, this layer had been buried since the 5th century.
The excited murmurs of a group of archeology students at the bottom of the large, six feet deep hole sounded muffled. But when a lanky young man in dusty overalls ascended the stepladder and yelled out to the lead archeologist standing by the tent, his voice boomed, “Helen, you have to see this!”
A middle-aged plump woman with salt and pepper hair pulled into a tight bun froze for a second, and then started running toward the student. “What did you find?” she wheezed, her chest tightening by the sudden excitement and anticipation.
“Come down and see!” The student hurried down the stepladder giving space to Helen to descend into the deep, large space.
“Damn!” she exclaimed when her shaky legs missed a step, but the young man broke her fall and steadied her on her feet. “Thanks,” she mumbled.
“Look!” One of the female students pointed at the white horse skull poking halfway out of the soil. “Look at that beautiful bridle!” She looked up at Helen beaming with joy.
“It’s magnificent!” Helen whispered. “The finest craftsmanship I’ve even seen.” She carefully ran her fingers through dry, hardened leather. “The usage of gold and alloy of copper and zinc proves that this warrior had a funeral fit for a noble leader.” She knelt by the skull and took the brush from her student. “I got this. You three start unearthing the rest of the skeleton,” she pointed and added with a stern look on her face. “Be careful!”
The other two holes they dug days ago were occupied by students kneeling in the dirt, brushes and fine chisels in their hands. They carefully scraped away the dirt layer by layer. Next to them laid out on a weathered tarp were weapons, jewelry, and everyday items from around the beginning of the 5th century. They had been working in the hole since dawn knowing it would be too hot to work close to midday when they would be forced to take a break until around mid-afternoon.
What are they buzzing about? A gangly, middle-aged man in a security guard uniform peeked into the deep pit planting his feet firmly to the ground. Good! Them keep finding stuff is my job security. He straightened up with a grunt and turned to find his partner. That fool is sleeping again! He walked over to the tent and punched his stocky partner’s shoulder who was softly snoring in a fold-up chair under the shade of the tall oak tree by the tent. “Hey, sleeping beauty!”
“Uh, what? Jesus! I ain’t sleeping. Just restin’ me eyes,” the balding man sat up straight and wiped spittle from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand.
“If they catch you snoozing, you can say goodbye to this well-paying cushy job,” the lanky man warned his friend.
“Yeah, yeah,” the heavyset man mumbled. “They’re in the holes busy brushing dirt off of old stuff. And who would come up to this place to steal anything, anyway?” He stretched his hands over his head and let out a loud yawn before reclining once more on the fold-up chair with obvious intent to resume his slumber.
“Just keep your eyes open! I’m gonna drive down to town to pick up the breakfast from the coffee shop.”
“Okay, hurry up. I’m starving.”
The tall man walked down the path between the thick bushes to the clearing where the archeological team parked their cars. Despite his promise, his porky partner’s chin dropped to his chest as soon as he was out of sight. I’ll just close me eyes for a moment, he thought. His breathing slowed as he fell asleep.

I clicked on a few websites to find comfy slippers, but, don't ask me how, I ended up looking at badly translated signs and funny bumper stickers. No, I didn't find slippers, but, do you know how painful it is when you try not to laugh with coffee in your mouth but you can't hold it back and coffee comes out of your nose when you burst out laughing? Yeah, it is painful!
So, have a good laugh, but drink your coffee after you're done laughing!

Hm... a meat lover perhaps?

Okay, got it, it was easy. Don't step on the grass.

Thanks for the advice, I'll just slip into the water very carefully.

A bit too much for fish crap, even when it's fresh. Don't you think?

So, I assume the translator doesn't know a word in English.

Wonder how to "mang out". I usually wipe or use the bidet.

Yeah, I got that. If you want to live, don't jump over the rail.

The prime example of why we must use comma.

The cleverest sign I've ever seen!

Um... I wonder what for?

Time to change some bulbs.

Oh, good! Thanks for clearing that up. I started to wonder...

Haha! Yes, I did read the first line wrong.

If every car would say that, there would be no accidents.

Gotcha! Let me slow down a little.

Knowing people's rebellious nature, most would only read the first line and...

Hey, while you're here, click on a few pages. You might like some of my fiction, short story, or children's books.
I write what I like to read and according to most readers my stories a good, but the truth is:
My books may never reach the bestseller status because I don't have the money to spend on advertising and marketing.
You could make me very happy by reading my stories and leave a few words review. If you like my books, tell your friends about them and ask your local library to order them.
Thanks a million!