As the clocks roll back, signifying we’re well and truly in autumn, the leaves continue to turn colors and fall. On October 31st, we had balmy weather, making it a fun time for the forty-nine trick-or-treaters who descended upon us to grab some treats. Since we’re new in the area, several parents stopped by to welcome us to the neighborhood.
On a separate note, the deer are still dropping by. Didn’t see any turkeys this week, but we did hear them. Meanwhile, the squirrels continue to harvest nuts from the walnut and acorn trees and preparing for winter, while a slew of birds, particularly cardinals, swoop in to check out the seeds on offer.
“Get it down. Take chances. It may be bad, but it’s the only way you can do anything really good.” – William Faulkner. Compliments of http://www.getfreewrite/blogs/writing-success/55-motivational-writing-quotes.
So who was born on this date in history? Let’s find out who in the writing world was born on November 3rd, the first Sunday of the month. (Compliments of https://www.onthisday.com/birthdays/).
Lucan, Roman poet (Bellum Civile); Renatus Rapinus [René Rapin], French Jesuit theologian and poet (Hortorum libri IV); August Gottlieb Meißner, German Enlightenment author who helped develop the detective story genre in German literature; William Cullen Bryant, American poet (Thanatopsis); Karl Baedeker, German publisher (known for guidebooks for tourists); John Mitchel, Irish nationalist (Jail Journal); John Esten Cooke, American novelist (The Virginia Comedians) and Confederate States Army; Ignatius Donnelly, American politician, writer, and amateur scientist; Johann Peter Kirsch, Luxembourg church historian and archaeologist; Nat Fleischer, American boxing writer (established Ring Magazine); Samuil Marshak, Russian-Soviet writer, translator and children’s poem poet; André Malraux, French novelist and art historian (La Condition Humaine); James Reston, American journalist (New York Times); Dean Riesner, American film and television screenwriter (Bill and Coo); Jesús Blasco, Spanish comic book author (Cuto); Oodgeroo Noonuccal, Australian Aboriginal political activist and writer (We Are Going); Dieter Wellershoff, German author (Minotaur); Osamu Tezuka, Japanese ‘the godfather of manga’ (Kimba the White Lion); Jean Rollin, French fantasy director and screenwriter, known for “The Night of the Hunted”; Terrence McNally, American playwright (Kiss of the Spider Woman); Anna Wintour, English-American magazine editor (Vogue); Massimo Mongai, Italian science fiction writer, known for “Memorie di un cuoco d’astronave”; Felix de Rooy, Afro-Curaçaoan poet, artist and filmmaker; Kevin Murphy, American writer, actor, and puppeteer (series Mystery Science Theater 3000); and Hal Hartley, American film director and screenwriter (Henry Fool).
Any names familiar to you? There were 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 continues to be my primary focus. Chapters thirty-seven and thirty-eight were posted to 
the two online subscription writing sites I use. Since my last blog post, the story has received another twelve chapter reviews, bringing the total to 566.
Here’s another snippet:
Dabir stood behind the check-in desk, rearranging items along the counter as he dusted. He reached underneath and pulled out a small, black box.
Inside, he located the Ruger LCP Max Vincent gave him the last time he was in the city. Designed for 380 auto caliber, it felt snug in Dabir’s hand. Will I be able to use it? I have never killed anyone before. He placed the pistol back in the box and shoved it to the rear of the shelf.
“Salam alaikum.”
Dabir jumped at a man’s voice. He glanced up and relaxed. “Wa alaykum as-salam, Badr. You startled me.”
Badr Habra al-Houthi grinned. “Yes. I noticed you were preoccupied. Is something the matter?”
“No, no. Why do you ask?” Dabir wiped the beading perspiration from his forehead with the back of his sleeve.
“You are sweating. Are you not well?”
“I-I am fine.”
“Hmm.” Badr studied Dabir’s face. “Okay. I shall take you at your word.” He turned and whistled.
Three men, all dressed in beige thobes and white turbans, appeared through an archway. Each man carried an AK-47, with a jambiya shoved into a wide ornate belt. The daggers were protected inside sheaths of exquisite carving, gems, precious metals, and ornamentation.
Badr gestured toward his colleagues. “We shall have qishr along with a plate of dates. Will you join us in the dining room? We have an important matter to discuss.
As if I have a choice. “Of course, Badr. I shall join you in a few minutes.”
Badr clapped his hands—once. “Excellent.” He turned and headed toward the dining room, the other men following.
Ten minutes later, Dabir pushed a laden trolley into the dining room, stopping at the table where the four men sat. He placed cups of qishr in front of them, along with two plates of dates and a serving dish holding sambusas, triangular pastries stuffed with potato, onion, parsley, and spices.
After passing cloth napkins to his guests, Dabir took the remaining seat, putting a glass of naqe’e al zabib in front of him. He took a sip of the raisin drink as he waited for Badr to speak.
Badr picked up a sambusa and bit into the snack. “Hmm. I love these.” He wiped his right hand on a napkin and then cleansed his face. “So, Dabir. Things are moving forward. Ansar Allah requires your assistance. We need somewhere to hide at least ten men who are coming from the north to create further attacks in the city.”
Dabir nodded but remained silent.
“We know you do not have many paying guests staying in the hotel, so—”
“The rooms are already spoken for, Badr.”
He grinned. “Ah, yes. By a foreign devil who does not care what happens in our country. The new men will take rooms, and since you have already been paid, you will not receive extra funding.”
“But ….”
Badr raised a hand. “This will be your gift to support our movement. Or, are you having second thoughts about where your loyalties should be?”
“No, Badr.” Dabir closed his eyes. What more trouble will I be in?
“The men from the north are led by Usamah Saddam al-Houthi. He is my cousin and we are from the same village. As a favor to me, do whatever he asks as if the requests came from me.”
One of Badr’s men lifted his AK-47 and pointed it at Dabir. “Perhaps he is in need of some persuasion?”
“That will not be necessary.” Badr waved a hand in dismissal. “Will it, Dabir?”
Dabir swallowed. I do not see any other option. “Yes, Badr. I mean, no. I am willing to assist in any way I can. When will they arrive?”
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
