The weather continues to be a bit cooler, and is now pleasant after the high humidity and higher temperatures. Hope this continues for the next few months so I can do some weeding and other outside jobs.
“I write entirely to find out what I’m thinking, what I’m looking at, what I see, and what it means. What I want and what I fear.” – Joan Didion. Compliments of https://press.barnesandnoble.com/bnpress-blog/inspirational-quotes-writing/.
So who was born on this date in history? Let’s find out who in the writing world was born on September 8th, the second Sunday of the month. (Compliments of https://www.onthisday.com/birthdays/).
Ludovico Ariosto, Italian poet (Orlando Furioso); François-Thomas-Marie de Baculard d’Arnaud, French sentimental writer (Les Épreuves du sentiment); August Wilhelm Schlegel, German poet, translator and critic; Clemens Brentano, German poet and author (The Story of the Just Casper and Fair Annie); N. F. S. Grundtvig, Danish writer and philosopher; Eduard Friedrich Mörike, German poet; Charles-Étienne Brasseur de Bourbourg, French writer and historian; Frederic Mistral, French Provencal poet (Nobel 1904); Wilhelm Raabe [Jakob Corvinus], German author (Der Hungerpastor); Adolfo Albertazzi, Italian writer (Amore & Amore, Top); Alfred Jarry, French writer (Ubu Roi); Siegfried Sassoon, English poet and writer (Counterattack); Nico Donkersloot, Dutch literary and writer; N. V. M. González, Filipino novelist, short story writer, and, poet; Gianni Brera, Italian sports journalist and writer; Isaac Sidney “Sid” Caesar, American comic actor and writer (Your Show of Shows); Robert W. Firestone, American clinical psychologist, and author (Fear of Intimacy); Michael Frayn, English playwright (Copenhagen); Ansen [Nancy Ann] Dibble, Dutch sci-fi author (Summerfair); Ann Beattie, American novelist and short story writer (Chilly Scenes of Winter); Lynn [Lorraine] Abbey, American sci-fi author (Black Flame); David Carr, American journalist (New York Times); Christopher Klim, American novelist (Jesus Lives in Trenton); and Jocko Willink, American Navy SEAL and author (Extreme Ownership).
Any names familiar to you? There weren’t any for me this week. Whether you recognize anyone on the list or not, if today’s your special day I hope you have a great one!
My Work In Progress
My work on Mission: Yemen, Xavier Sear Thriller Book 2 is currently underway again. this week, I posted
chapter thirty-two to the two online subscription writing sites I use. The story received another five chapter reviews this week, bringing the total to 502
Here’s another snippet:
Sear pulled through the arch of the Rashid property and parked underneath an awning near an ornate door. The men climbed out of the Noah, pulling out their luggage.
A young man, dressed in a traditional thobe, bowed toward Sear.” Welcome, Sayyid. I am Parvez, the caretaker and sometimes cook. Sayyid Bashari told me to expect your arrival.” Parvez smiled. “Please, follow me.” He led them inside the two-story, whitewashed building with black trim around the windows.
Sear glanced around as they entered. “Parvez, is anyone else living here right now?”
He shook his head. “With the demise of Sayyid Rashid, I am the only one. Why do you ask?”
“Just a feeling I have.” Sear smiled to alleviate any worries Parvez might have. I think he’s lying—my bullshit meter is on overdrive.
Parvez led them along a narrow corridor devoid of furnishings and fixtures into a large, well-lit divan. Two red and white sofas and four armchairs filled most of the living room, with several round hand-carved tables and two coffee tables arranged around the seating.
Pervez gestured toward the furniture. “If you will be seated, I shall bring you black tea with mint and qahwa, Arabic coffee. I prepared some Yemeni snacks for you after Sayyid Bashari told me you were coming.”
“Just the tea and coffee, for now, Pervez.” Sear patted his stomach. “It’s not that long since Bashari fed us.”
“As you wish. They will be ready when you are hungry.” He turned and left the room.
After Parvez departed, Sear turned to Wasim and Malik. “What do you think?”
Malik rubbed his chin. “I think he is trying to be friendly, but I do not believe he is sincere and cannot be trusted.”
“I agree.” Wasim smiled. “as the RSO used to say, ‘he’s slimy.’”
Sear chuckled. “My thoughts exactly. We’ll need to keep an eye on him.”
“When we meet with Tarik, we should mention Pervez and have Tarik check him out.” Wasim pursed his lips. “We cannot be too careful.”
Sear nodded. “Agreed. I—”
Pervez returned to the divan, pushing a trolley. He set the tea and coffee service on one of the coffee tables, placing a plate of dates next to it. “I know you said you were not hungry, but in the Arab world, we say dates help to rejuvenate the body.” He turned to Sear. “What would you like to drink?”
“Coffee.” Sear studied the young man. “How long have you worked for the Rashid family?”
Pervez twisted his lips into a smile. “They took me in about three years ago. Before that, I lived with some of the homeless in the old part of the city.” He shrugged. “Without their generosity, I would have joined with Allah as so many of the poor have done.”
He served tea to the brothers. “If there is nothing further you require, I shall return to my duties.” He pointed to an old-fashioned bell on the wall, a gold-colored rope attached to it. “The Rashid family found this on one of their excursions. Pull the cord, and I shall hear it.” He turned and departed.
Wasim stood.
“Here are you going?” A look of amusement creased Sear’s face.
“I am going to wander around our new home. Perhaps, I might learn something of interest.”
Malik stood.
“I supposed you’re going to help your brother?” Sear grinned.
“No. I’m going to find a toilet.”
Both men departed, leaving Sear to his thoughts. Plenty of subterfuge going on. I think I can trust Malik and Wasim, but everyone else bears watching. He poured himself some more coffee, now almost cold.
Twenty minutes later, the brothers returned.
Sear glanced at their faces. “Learn anything?”
Wasim shook his head. “Nothing of any use, but I did overhear Pervez talking to someone on the phone. I could not make most of it out, but he did mention you by name.”
“Hmm. Time for me to wander.” Sear left the divan, wandering through the various hallways and rooms of the property. No sign of Pervez. Where did he go?
Sear turned at the sound of a voice, which seemed to come from above. Is he on the roof? If so, why? He walked along the corridor, checking the rooms. All locked. He tried the final door.
It opened to reveal a set of stairs.
Sear pulled out his pistol and climbed the stairs, one at a time, so he didn’t make any noise. When he reached the roof, he eased another door open and stepped out.
Spotting Pervez heading toward him, Sear ducked behind an air conditioning unit. After Pervez passed his hiding place, Sear stepped out behind him. “Who were you talking to?”
Parvez jumped as he shoved the phone into his pocket. “Uh. No one, Sayyid.”
More next time.
This brings us to an end for another week. I hope you found something of interest. If you have any suggestions for a topic you’d like to read about, please let me know. Until the next time, thank you for reading and hope you drop in again.
© Copyright 2024 Randall Krzak. All rights reserved
