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Randall’s Ramblings, October 22, 2023

Randall Krzak

The first part of the past week was dry and sunny. Then came along Storm Babet–which brought heavy winds and plenty of rain. Parts of the east coast were flooded, with hundreds of home still suffering from flood waters while at least seven people were killed. Our area didn’t get hit too bad–winds gusting up to 53 miles an hour and rain from Thursday through Saturday morning. The sun finally came out Saturday afternoon and we have plenty of sunshine today, too.

The price of gasoline (petrol) remained the same since my last post, at £1.56 a liter. Based on the current exchange rate, this equates to $7.18 for an equivalent U.S. gallon. Meanwhile, diesel dropped a penny to £1.63 a liter, or $7.48 a gallon.

The writing of a novel is taking life as it already exists, not to report it but to make an object, toward the end that the finished work might contain this life inside it and offer it to the reader. The essence will not be, of course, the same thing as the raw material; it is not even of the same family of things. The novel is something that never was before and will not be again.” — Eudora Welty. Compliments of https://selfpublishing.com/writing-quotes/.

So who was born on this date in history? Let’s find out who in the writing world was born on 22 October, the fourth Sunday of the month. (Compliments of https://www.onthisday.com/birthdays/):

William IX, the Troubadour, Frankish nobleman (Duke of Aquitaine, Duke of Gascony, Count of Poitou, 1086-1127), Crusader, and poet; Leconte de Lisle, French poet and writer; Alfred Douglas, English poet, journalist and partner of Oscar Wilde; Ivan Bunin, Russian poet and novelist (Gentleman from San Francisco-Nobel 1933); Karl Adam, German theologist (Christ our Brother); Adolph Joffe, Russian Communist revolutionary and writer (Brest-Litovsk); John Reed, American journalist and communist activist (reported on Mexican, Russian revolutions – “Ten Days that Shook the World”); Dámaso Alonso, Spanish linguist and poet (Hijos de la ira); Sidney Kingsley, American playwright (Men in White – Pulitzer Prize 1934); John Gould, American humorist, essayist, and columnist; Doris Lessing, Iranian novelist (Adore, Memoirs of a Survivor, Golden Notebook); Georges Brassens, French poet and singer-songwriter (Supplique pour être enterré à la plage de Sète); Jan A de Jonge, Dutch historian; Bobby Seale, American political and civil rights activist (Black Panther Party) and author; and Arto Salminen, Finnish writer.

Any names familiar to you? There weren’t any for me. 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

Mission- YemenThis morning I finished Mission: Yemen, Xavier Sear Thriller Book 2 chapter sixteen. Reviewers provided another twenty-five critiques this week, bringing the total to 313. As always, they’ve provided plenty of recommendations for me to consider, and I’m always appreciative of the time and effort people put into reviewing my work.

Here’s another snippet. Please keep in mind that since these are first-draft chapters, things will likely be changed once I get to the editing phase. In the meantime, if you have any suggestions to improve the story, please let me know.

“Can you think of anyone who has a grudge against you?” Sear rubbed his stubble. “It’s possible someone will try to use Shatara as a bargaining chip.”

“I—” Bashari stopped as the servant entered, pushing a trolley containing a tea service, a pot of coffee, a plate of dates, and several dishes holding various Yemeni delicacies.

“Shukran, Qadir. Please serve our guests.”

The old man nodded as he offered tea, coffee, fruit, and pastries to Sear, Wasim, and Malik.

The three men accepted the offerings.

Sear sipped on his strong coffee. “Excellent.” He set the cup and saucer on a table Qadir had moved forward. “You were going to say something?”

Bashari nodded. “Yes, I can’t think of anyone who would be holding something against me. However, I am outspoken about what the Houthis are doing to my country.” He snapped his fingers. “Could this be what it’s about?”

“It’s possible, but until someone contacts you with their demands, it’s difficult to know for sure.” He turned to Malik. “Do you think your friend, Tarik, might be able to help?”

Malik nodded. “If anyone can find out anything for us, it’ll be Tarik.” He stood, pulled his phone from a pocket, and went to the other end of the room.

“I’ve kept information about Shatara’s kidnapping from everyone I know.” Bashari glanced at the floor. “Do you think it’s time to spread the word?”

Sear nodded. “Yes. It’s been a long time since I served in Yemen, but I’ll see if anyone remembers me.” He turned to Wasim. “Can you do the same?”

“Of course. There might be a few people who remember when I was an investigator and be willing to help.”

“Where are you staying?” Bashari glanced at Sear.

“We’re at the Al Bilad Hotel, but I want to move elsewhere. I have a strange feeling about the clerk—almost as if he knows something but is keeping quiet.” Vincent warned me about Dabir—better to trust my instincts.

Bashari nodded. “Before my brother-in-law, Borak Rashid was killed, we had planned to suggest you stay in the Rashid ancestral home. You may still use it if you like—it’d be a way to honor his passing. It’s not far from here.”

“Yes, that’d be a great idea. Do you know where we can get another vehicle? We’re using a Toyota Hilux we borrowed from the clerk, but I’d rather use something not associated with the hotel.”

A smile spread across Bashari’s face for the first time since they arrived. “There are more Hiluxes in Yemen than any other vehicle. How about my Toyota Noah? You might have spotted it outside when you arrived.”

“Yes, that would work. Shukran. Bashari, when we drove here from the hotel, we noticed recent damage. Was it caused by last night’s aircraft attack?”

Bashari nodded. “Yes. It’s rare for the Haddah district to be attacked, but I heard several people were injured—four of them were children. Also, a number of buildings were damaged, including the Norwegian Refugee Council guesthouse.” He sighed. “Yemen used to be a quiet place to live—at least until the Houthi uprising.”

“How did it start?” Sear drained the last of his coffee and poured another cup.

“It began in 2004 and was a military rebellion, pitting Zaida Shia Houthis against the Yemeni army. As time passed, it spread throughout the country.”

Malik resumed his seat. “Tarik will do what he can to assist us. However, he’s not hopeful.” He glanced at Bashari. “Many people have disappeared since the uprising. Some have been sold into slavery.”

Bashari sucked in his breath.

Sear shook his head. “Let’s not panic at this stage. It could still be a simple kidnapping for ransom.” He turned to Bashari. “We will do our best to help you get your daughter back.”

A glimmer of a smile creased Bashari’s face. “Shukran, Sayyid—Sear. Jasmin and I would be in your debt forever if you could manage this. I shall inform the caretaker at the Rashid residence of your arrival.”

Sear finished his coffee and stood. “We’ll check out of the hotel now and go there.” Don’t know if we’ll find Shatara, but I’ll give it my best shot. Hope she hasn’t fallen afoul of human traffickers.

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 2023 Randall Krzak. All rights reserved

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Randall’s Ramblings, September 15, 2023

Randall Krzak

I spent last week in Washington, D.C. and South Carolina. Had an opportunity to catch up with a longtime work colleague and friend in S.C., and checked out our son’s apartment in D.C. It was great to see both of them and also take advantage of the warm weather. Since returning back to Scotland, it’s been windy and cold, but at least there’s been some sunshine.

The price of gasoline (petrol) dropped two pence since my last post, settling at £1.56 a liter. Based on the current exchange rate, this equates to $7.14 for an equivalent U.S. gallon. Meanwhile, diesel has climbed to £1.64 a liter, or $7.52 a gallon.

“Writing a book is a horrible, exhausting struggle, like a long bout of some painful illness. One would never undertake such a thing if one were not driven on by some demon whom one can neither resist nor understand.” — George Orwell. Compliments of https://selfpublishing.com/writing-quotes/.

So who was born on this date in history? Let’s find out who in the writing world was born on 15 October, the third Sunday of the month. (Compliments of https://www.onthisday.com/birthdays/):

Virgil, Roman poet of the Augustan period (Aeneid); Allan Ramsay, Scottish poet (Gentle Shepherd); Alfred Meissner, Austrian poet (Ziska); Helen Hunt Jackson, American author (Ramona); Friedrich Nietzsche, German philosopher and philologist (Beyond Good and Evil); George Foot Moore, American theologist (Hebrews, Old Testament); Jaime de Magalhães Lima, Portuguese author and poet (Salmos do Prisoneiro);  P. G. Wodehouse, British-American writer (Bertie Wooster novels); S.S. Van Dine [pseudonym for William Huntingdon Wright], American art critic and crime writer (Philo Vance); Alfred Neumann, German playwright (Devil); Bernard von Brentano, German writer (Big Cats); Charles P. Snow, English novelist (Death Under Sail, Strangers and Brothers) and physical chemist; Varian Fry, American journalist and recognized as “Righteous Among the Nations”; John Kenneth Galbraith, Canadian-American economist and writer (Affluent Society – Sidney Hillman Award, 1958); James H. Schmitz, American sci-fi author (Lion Game); Arthur M. Schlesinger Jr, American historian (1946 Pulitzer-Age of Jackson); Edwin Charles Tubb, British sci-fi writer (Earth is Heaven, Earthfall); Mario Puzo, American novelist (The Godfather, Cotton Club, Earthquake); Agustina Bessa-Luís, Portuguese writer (A Sibila); Italo Calvino, Italian author (If on a Winter’s Night a Traveler); Ed McBain [Evan Hunter], American writer (Blackboard Jungle); Hubert Dreyfus, American philosopher (What Computers Can’t Do); FM-2030 [Fereidoun M. Esfandiary], Iranian-American author and transhumanist (Are You a Transhuman?); Riekus Waskowsky, Dutch poet; and Peter Richardson, British actor, writer and director (The Comic Strip Presents, The Pope Must Die).

Any names familiar to you? There were three for me: Friedrich Nietzche, P. G. Wodehouse, and Mario Puzo. 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

Mission- YemenWith the trip to the States, I wasn’t able to finish chapter fifteen  of Mission: Yemen, Xavier Sear Thriller Book 2 until I returned. While I was gone, one of the online subscription writing sites I used suffered a catastrophic hardware failure, although they returned a few days ago, albeit with an older backup version. As a result, I lost at least thirty reviews. Even so,  reviewers provided another thirteen critiques this week, bringing the total to 288. As always, they’ve provided plenty of recommendations for me to consider, and I’m always appreciative of the time and effort people put into reviewing my work.

Here’s another snippet. Please keep in mind that since these are first-draft chapters, things will likely be changed once I get to the editing phase. In the meantime, if you have any suggestions to improve the story, please let me know.

A man who Sear recognized from the photos had Vincent provided stood and stepped forward. He was dressed in a long-sleeved brown shirt and a futa, the skirt in a subdued green, while a white turban adorned his head.

Abdullah Bashari stretched out his hand. “Welcome to my humble home, Sayyid Sear. It is an honor and privilege for you to be here.”

“Shukran, Sayyid Bashari. Please call me Sear, as that’s what my friends call me.” Sear shook hands.

“Thank you, Sear. Let me introduce you to my wife, Yasmin Rashid. You might find us a rather confusing couple, as we picked up numerous Western customs while living in Europe.”

A diminutive woman dressed in a yellow zina and Western jeans stood and bowed. “Welcome. I shall leave you now to your discussion.” She adjusted her orange headscarf and left the room.

Bashari gestured to the matching brown sofas. “Please have a seat.” He picked up an envelope from a hand-carved rectangular table and offered it to Sear. “These are photos of my missing daughter, Shatara.” He sat, wiping a tear away as he seemed to struggle to remain composed. “We don’t know where she is. Yasmin was with her when two men broke into the house and took her.”

Sear opened the envelope and studied the photos. “She’s a lovely young woman. Has there been any ransom demands?”

“No.” Bashari shook his head. “It’s been almost a month since they took her. There’s been no contact except one day a courier brought an envelope. It contained a photo of Shatara holding a copy of Al-Jumhuryah with a current date.”

Sear nodded. “Proof of life. When did you receive this?”

“About two weeks ago. I’ll give it to you later.”

“Can you think of anyone who has a grudge against you?” Sear rubbed his stubble. “It’s possible someone will try to use Shatara as a bargaining chip.”

“I—” Bashari stopped as the servant entered, pushing a trolley containing a tea service, a pot of coffee, a plate of dates, and several dishes holding various Yemeni delicacies.

“Shukran, Qadir. Please serve our guests.”

The old man nodded as he offered tea, coffee, fruit, and pastries to Sear, Qasim, and Malik.

The three men accepted the offerings.

Sear sipped on his strong coffee. “Excellent.” He set the cup and saucer on a table Qadir had moved forward. “You were going to say something?”

Bashari nodded. “Yes, I can’t think of anyone who would be holding something against me. However, I am outspoken about what the Houthis are doing to my country.” He snapped his fingers. “Could this be what it’s about?”

“It’s possible, but until someone contacts you with their demands, it’s difficult to know for sure.” Sear turned to Malik. “Do you think your friend, Tarik, might be able to help?”

Malik nodded. “If anyone can find out anything for us, it’ll be Tarik.” He stood, pulled his phone from a pocket, and went to the other end of the room.

“I’ve kept information about Shatara’s kidnapping from everyone I know.” Bashari glanced at the floor. “Do you think it’s time to spread the word?”

Sear nodded. “Yes. It’s been a long time since I served in Yemen, but I’ll see if anyone remembers me.” He turned to Wasim. “Can you do the same?”

“Of course. There might be a few people who remember when I was an investigator and be willing to help.”

“Where are you staying?” Bashari glanced at Sear.

“We’re at the Al Bilad Hotel, but I want to move elsewhere. I have a strange feeling about the clerk—almost as if he knows something but is keeping quiet.” Vincent warned me about Dabir—better to trust my instincts.

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 2023 Randall Krzak. All rights reserved

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Randall’s Ramblings, September 24, 2023

Randall Krzak

We had one day this week where the daytime temperature made it to 65F (C). Otherwise, we ranged from 56-62F (13-19C). Meanwhile, the nighttime temperatures continued to drop, ranging from 43-49C (6-10C). For the most part, it’s been a mixed week, with plenty of rain and some cool breezes. As least one day was dry enough to get the fallen leaves raked up, but still more to come.

Over the past week, the price of gasoline (petrol) remained stable at £1.56 a liter. However, the pound continued to weaken against the dollar, and the price of an equivalent U.S. gallon stayed steady at $7.21. Meanwhile, the price of a liter of diesel increased to £1.59 a liter.

“The writing of a novel is taking life as it already exists, not to report it but to make an object, toward the end that the finished work might contain this life inside it and offer it to the reader. The essence will not be, of course, the same thing as the raw material; it is not even of the same family of things. The novel is something that never was before and will not be again.” — Eudora Welty. Compliments of https://selfpublishing.com/writing-quotes/.

So who was born on this date in history? Let’s find out who in the writing world was born on 24 September, the fourth and final Sunday of the month. (Compliments of https://www.onthisday.com/birthdays/):

Horace Walpole, British horror writer (Castle of Otranto); William Lisle Bowles, English poet (14 Sonnets); Ramón de Campoamor y Campoosorio, Spanish poet (Doloras); Cyprian Norwid, Polish painter, poet and playwright (Wanda); Frances Harper, African-American abolitionist, suffragist and writer (Iola Leroy); James St Clair Morton, American engineer, author, and Brigadier General (Union Army); Pieter Lodewijk Tak, Dutch journalist and politician (The Chronicle); S. R. Crockett, Scottish novelist (The Stickit Minister); Charles-Ferdinand Ramuz, Swiss writer (Le Petit Village); Herman Bouber, Dutch actor and playwright (Sailor’s Wives); F. Scott Fitzsgerald, American author (Great Gatsby, Zelda); Ham Fisher, American comic strip writer and cartoonist (Joe Palooka); Cao Yu, Huaju writer (Peking Man); Ian Serraillier, English children’s books author (The Silver Sword); Margarita Aliger, Russian poet (Zoja); Richard Hoggart, British author (The Uses of Literacy: Aspects of Working Class Life) and warden (Goldsmith’s College London; Ladislav Fuks, Czech writer; Józef Krupiński, Polish poet (Marsz żałobny); Brian Glanville, English journalist and football writer; John Brunner, Britsih sci-fi author (100th Millennium); Jim Henson, American puppeteer, artist, screenwriter and filmmaker, best known as the creator of ‘the Muppets” (Sesame Street, The Muppet Show); Yves Navarre, French writer (Le Jardin d’acclimatation); David Drake, American sci-fi author, veteran and lawyer (Cross the Stars, Rolling Hot); John Logan, American screenwriter and playwright (Gladiator); and Szilvia Molnar, Swedish writer.

Any names familiar to you? There were two for me: F. Scott Fitzgerald and Jim Henson. 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

Mission- YemenThis week, I completed chapter fourteen  of Mission: Yemen, Xavier Sear Thriller Book 2. As always, it’s been posted to the two online writing sites I use. Reviewers provided another twenty-four critiques this week, bringing the total to 265. As always, they’ve provided plenty of recommendations for me to consider, and I’m always appreciative of the time and effort people put into reviewing my work.

Here’s another snippet. Please keep in mind that since these are first-draft chapters, things will likely be changed once I get to the editing phase. In the meantime, if you have any suggestions to improve the story, please let me know.

“Understood.” Shatara studied the garment Uzza laid out on the bed. “What lovely clothes.” She reached down and ran a hand over a multi-colored zina. “I love the red and yellow colors in the dress. I just wish there was a version with short sleeves.”

Uzza giggled. “Would you dare to show your arms to someone not your husband?”

“Why not? In many parts of the world, women wear short-sleeved garments. In fact, they choose what they will wear.” Shatara sighed. “At least the green baggy trousers go well with the red, white, and yellow of the zina.”

“I choose the clothing myself.” Uzza grinned. “Later, I will bring you other zinas and Sana’anis. The prince says you may have three of each.”

I don’t want to insult her, as she is trying to help me, but her choice of colors is horrible. “Thank you so much.” Shatara pointed to the hijab. “Must I wear that?”

“Only if you are permitted to leave the building. I use one when I go outside, too.”

Shatara pursed her lips and sighed. “Okay.” She began to dress as her stomach rumbled. “I hope someone will bring food soon—I’m hungry.”

“While you were cleansing yourself, I opened the door and picked up the second container I brought with me. We shall eat together.” Uzza reached on the other side of the bed where she had hidden a wicker basket. “Look—I have a surprise for you. We shall dine on mutabaq, which are filled with scrambled eggs and cheese and some masoub. I made the bread myself and added bananas and honey as I made it.”

Shatara’s stomach rumbled again, this time louder. She laughed as she patted it. “My body is enjoying just hearing about the food.”

“Cook also gave me one zalabia each. I love these pastries and eat them whenever possible because they give me  energy.”

Shatara smile. “There are also fattening. Did you bring anything to drink?”

“Yes, mango juice.” She arranged the food on a small table at the foot of the bed. “Come, let us enjoy our first breakfast together.”

As they ate their breakfast, Uzza reached into the basket and pulled out a small parcel wrapped in brown paper. “This is for you from the prince.”

“What is it?” Shatara took the package.

Uzza smiled. “Open it and find out.”

“Okay.” Shatara wiped her hands on a piece of cloth Uzza handed her.

Uzza clapped her hands. “Hurry. I want to find out as no one told me what it was.”

“Just a minute.” Shatara untied the string holding the package together. Pulling back the now-loosened paper, she gasped. Inside, she found a book: The Poetry of Arab Women from the Pre-Islamic Age to Andalusia. “A book. I told al Mishara I loved to read.”

“What’s it about? Perhaps later, you will tell me what it says?” Uzza glanced downward. “I cannot read.”

“It’s a book of poetry by Arab women. I shall pick some and read them to you.”

“Thank you. I will enjoy that. I shall return before Asr, as we will pray together.”

“Where are you going?”

“The prince instructed me to seek him out after you were settled.” Uzza blushed. “I am not sure what he wants except a report on how you are doing. He’s very interested in you.”

“Yes, I know. He wants me to marry him, but I want to wait until I’m older and choose my husband.”

Uzza laughed. “What is wrong with being a wife to Prince al Mishari? I understand his family is rich, and he’s kind to his wives.” She stood and collected the dishes, putting them back in the basket. “I must go now.” She headed toward the door.

“Wait.”

Uzza turned. “Yes?”

“I just wanted to … say thank you. You have been very kind.”

“You’re welcome.” Uzza left the room, locking the door behind her.

Shatara settled on the bed, opened the book, and began reading.

Before long, she placed the tome next to her pillow, closed her eyes, and fell into a deep sleep.

She felt someone climb onto the bed but couldn’t see who it was because it was dark. Where is Uzza? She said she was returning before Asr prayers.

A man grunted before grabbing Shatara’s zina and ripping it from her body.

She screamed as she struggled against her attacker.

“Hold still. This won’t hurt a bit.” He pushed a cloth over her face. “Take a deep breath.”

Shatara continued to fight against the man’s attempts to hold the cloth tighter. She inhaled and coughed.

Moments later, she lay quiet, unmoving.

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 2023 Randall Krzak. All rights reserved

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Randall’s Ramblings, September 17, 2023

Randall Krzak

It’s been a mainly wet week, with daytime temperatures ranging from 59-68F (14-20C). Nighttime temperatures were also lower, staying between 43-52F (6-11C) There was one day where it was dry enough so I was able to start raking up the leaves. Plenty more have fallen since then, but I’ll have to wait for another dry day to gather them up.

Over the past week, the price of gasoline (petrol) jumped another two pence, bringing it up to 1.56 a liter. However, the pound continued to weaken against the dollar, and the price of an equivalent U.S. gallon fell from $7.26 to $7.21. Meanwhile, the price of a liter of diesel increased to £1.58 a liter.

“Writing a book is a horrible, exhausting struggle, like a long bout of some painful illness. One would never undertake such a thing if one were not driven on by some demon whom one can neither resist nor understand.” — George Orwell. Compliments of https://selfpublishing.com/writing-quotes/.

So who was born on this date in history? Let’s find out who in the writing world was born on 17 September, the third Sunday of the month. (Compliments of https://www.onthisday.com/birthdays/):

Gilbert Burnet, Scottish philosopher and Bishop of Salisbury (History of the Reformation); Durastante Natalucci, Italian historian (specialized in history of Trevi, in Umbria); Gottlieb Rabener, German author (Vom Misbrauch of the Satire); Marquis de Condorcet, French enlightenment philosopher (Condorcet Method) and mathematician; Johann August Apel, German jurist and writer; Edward William Lane, British lexicographer and translator (One Thousand & One Nights); Émile Augier, French dramatist; Edouard Pailleron, French attorney, poet and stage writer; Clemens Baeumker, German historian (Patristischen Philosophie); Hans Müller, German music historian and writer; Owen Seaman, British poet and editor (Punch); Désiré Inghelbrecht, French composer, conductor and writer; Anton Hendrik Blaauw, Dutch botanist (Perception of Light); Gerald Hugh Tyrwhitt-Wilson, 14th Baron Bernes, British composer and novelist; William Carlos Williams, American physician and poet; Bastiaan de Gaay Fortman, Dutch historian and Justice of Curacao; Abel Herzberg, Russian-Dutch Jewish lawyer and writer (Persecution of Jews); Mary Stewart, British sci-fi author (Crystal Cave); Ken Kesey, American author (One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest); Mischa de Vreede, Dutch poetess (Our Eternal Hunger); Albertine Sarrazin, French author (L’astragale, La Cavale); Robert Graysmith, American Zodiac killer researcher and author; Lawrence Anthony, South Africa, conservationist and author; Brian Andreas, American writer, sculptor, painter and publisher; Rami Saari, Israeli poet and translator; and Wendy Northcutt, American author of the Darwin Awards.

Any names familiar to you? There was one for me–Ken Kesey. 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

Mission- YemenThis week, I completed chapter thirteen  of Mission: Yemen, Xavier Sear Thriller Book 2. As always, it’s been posted to the two online writing sites I use. Reviewers provided another nineteen critiques arrived this week, bringing the total to 241. As always, they’ve provided plenty of recommendations for me to consider, and I’m always appreciative of the time and effort people put into reviewing my work.

Here’s another snippet. Please keep in mind that since these are first-draft chapters, things will likely be changed once I get to the editing phase. In the meantime, if you have any suggestions, please let me know.

A light knocking on the door woke Shatara from a restless sleep. Who is that? First person not to barge in. She cleared her throat. “You may enter.”

She listened to a key turn in the lock before the door eased open.

A head peeped around the corner.

Aw, someone who seems younger than me. “Come in, please.”

A petite girl squeezed past the open door, adjusting her traditional Sana’ani, a curtain-style dress in black with red and green trim. Sequins adorned the garment. Upon her head, she wore an Al-Momq, a cotton cloth covering her head. Like the Sana’ani, it was in black but had red and white inclusions. Her long, black tresses flowed down her back. She set a tan canvas bag on the floor.

“As-salam alaykum. I am called Uzza Al-Hammadi. I will be your attendant while you visit us.”

Visit? Does she have any idea what’s going on? “Walaykum as-salam. I am Shatara. How old are you?”

She smiled. “I am twelve years old. Soon, I shall be ready for a husband.”

Shatara shook her head. She has no idea. “What do you have in the bag?”

Uzza glanced down. “A change of clothing for you.” She wrinkled her nose. “But first, you must clean up. I can smell you from here.”

“Yes, I was in a place where I couldn’t keep myself clean.” Shatara sniffed and seemed to recoil from her own body odor. “I hope you brought some shampoo.”

Uzza giggled. “Of course, Shatara. I brought you a shampoo soap bar, which is good for hair growth. It is made with cedarwood, lavender, and sweet orange.”

“Sounds lovely. Where can I clean up?”

Uzza pointed to the interior door as her face beamed. “We are blessed to have modern toilets. There’s one inside, along with a shower hose. Do you need my help?” She picked up the bag and pulled out a bar of soap, along with a square of cloth and a towel, and handed them to Shatara. “When you finish your cleansing, I will have your clothes laid out on the bed for you.”

“Why can’t I take the clothes with me?”

Uzza shook her head. “There isn’t any place to hang them, and they will get wet.”

“Oh.” At least I can protect my modesty with the towel. “Let me go now. I’ll feel better when I’m clean.”

“Oh, yes. And smell better, too.” Uzza covered her mouth as she blushed. “I am sorry if I have insulted you.”

“You’re correct. I’ll be back soon.” Shatara opened the bathroom door and stepped inside. In addition to the toilet, there was a small sink with a cracked mirror above it. In the corner, a hose was connected to two taps via a mixer tube. The water will flow across the floor. Oh, well. At least I’ll be clean again.

Shatara put the towel on the toilet seat, stripped off her clothes, grabbed the soap, and turned on the water.

“Oh!” A burst of cold water caused Shatara to shudder. She adjusted the taps, and the water warmed. “That’s better.” She scrubbed her entire body before lathering her hair. When she finished, she wrapped herself in the towel, knocked on the door, and entered the bedroom.

Uzza smiled. “How was it? I think you enjoyed your showering as I listened to you humming.”

“It was fantastic.” Shatara grinned.

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 2023 Randall Krzak. All rights reserved

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Randall’s Ramblings, September 10, 2023

Randall Krzak

It’s been a mainly dry and partially sunny week, with daytime temperatures getting as high as 69-81F  (21-27C). However, last week’s cooler evenings have impacted on the leaves, at least on our birch trees. Most of the have yellowed and are starting to fall. Won’t be long and I’ll need to starting raking them up.

Over the past week, the price of gasoline (petrol) increased again, going up another penny, bringing it up to 1.54 a liter. However, with the pound weakening against the dollar, the price of an equivalent U.S. gallon fell from $7.33 to $7.26. Meanwhile, the price of a liter of diesel dropped to £1.565 a liter.

“Writing a book is a horrible, exhausting struggle, like a long bout of some painful illness. One would never undertake such a thing if one were not driven on by some demon whom one can neither resist nor understand.” — George Orwell. Compliments of https://selfpublishing.com/writing-quotes/.

So who was born on this date in history? Let’s find out who in the writing world was born on 10 September, the second Sunday of the month. (Compliments of https://www.onthisday.com/birthdays/):

Thomas Sydenham, English physician and author of “Observationes Medicae”; Hannah Webster Foster, American author (The Coquette; or, The History of Eliza Wharton); Charles Peirce, American scientist and philosopher known as “the father of pragmatism”; saac Kauffman Funk, American publisher (Funk & Wagnalls); Jeppe Aakjær, Danish poet and novelist (Bondens Søn); Georgia Douglas Johnson, African American poet and playwright (Autumn Love Cycle); Euphemia “Phemia” Molkenboer, Dutch author and poster artist; Berthold Altaner, German Catholic church historian (Patrologie), and educator; Carl Van Doren, American literary critic and biographer (“Benjamin Franklin” – Pulitzer Prize, 1939); Hilda Doolittle, American poetess (Imagist movement); Franz Werfel, Austrian-Bohemian novelist, playwright, and poet (Mirror Man, The Forty Days of Musa Dagh); Viswanatha Satyanarayana, Indian Telugu writer (Ramayana Kalpa Vrukshamu, Veyipadagalu); Georges Bataille, French writer; Toivo Pekkanen, Finnish writer (Wegwerkers); William Oliver Everson, American poet; Franfo Fortini [Franco Lattes], Italian poet; Miguel Serrano, Chilean author, diplomat and fascist (Esoteric Hitlerism); Lex van Delden [Alexander Zwaap], Dutch composer and writer (Canto della Guerra); Leo P. Kelley, American sci-fi author (Dead Moon, Vacation in Space); Bo Goldman, American Academy Award-winning screenwriter (One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest; Melvin and Howard), and playwright; Mary Oliver, American poet (1984 Pulitzer Prize); Jared Diamond, American biologist and author (Guns, Germs and Steel); Stephen Jason Gould, American paleontologist and popular science writer; Neale Donald Walsch, American author (Conversations with God); Zhang Chengzhi, Chinese writer (History of the Soul); Gerry Conway, Marvel comics writer (Punisher); Chris Columbus, American film writer/director (Mrs Doubtfire, Nine Months); and Anurag Kashyap, Indian film director, writer, producer and actor (Gangs of Wasseypur, Satya, Black Friday).

Any names familiar to you? There weren’t any for me this time. 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

Mission- YemenThis week, I completed chapter twelve  of Mission: Yemen, Xavier Sear Thriller Book 2. As always, it’s been posted to the two online writing sites I use. A further twenty-one reviews arrived this week, bringing the total to 222. As always, there are plenty of recommendations for me to consider, and I’m always appreciative of the time and effort people put into reviewing my work.

Here’s another snippet. Please keep in mind that since these are first-draft chapters, things will likely be changed once I get to the editing phase. In the meantime, if you have any suggestions, please let me know.

Sear joined Wasim and Malik in the hotel’s dining room after Maghrib prayers. There were four other people in the restaurant, all locals based on how they were dressed. They sat at the same table, away from Sear and the others.

Wasim and Malik sat at a square table covered with a red and white checkered tablecloth. In the center were three unlit candles. Both men stood.

Sear chuckled and waved them back into their seats. “I’ll be looking over my shoulder to see who you’re rising for.”

A man wearing a stained apron approached. “Good evening, my friends. Dabir told you about me, yes?”

“Yes.” Sear nodded. “What should we call you?”

“Cook is sufficient, and if you enjoy the meal afterward, you may call me Chef.” The man cackled.

“Okay, Cook. Dabir says your sayadieh is excellent, so we want to try it.”

The cook grinned. “Of course, Sayyid. Might I suggest naqe’e al zabib, a raisin beverage for now, and after your meal, perhaps you might have qishr, a traditional Yemeni drink that we use instead of coffee because it is less expensive.”

Sear, Wasim, and Malik nodded.

“Excellent. I shall return soon with your meals.”

Ten minutes later, the cook returned with their meals. He served them and departed, returning with their drinks.

Lights flickered.

One of the other patrons pulled out a lighter and lit the candles on their table.

Sear followed suit as the lights flickered again.

The roar of low-flying aircraft shook the building and rattled the windows.

A bright light in the distance lit up the sky as the planes dropped bombs on part of the city before turning away.

Sear glanced at Wasim and Malik. “Someone’s getting hammered.” He continued to eat his fish and rice.

The brothers nodded.

Dabir rushed into the dining room and approached their table. “Is everyone okay?” He smiled. “Another Saudi-coalition raid on the city, no doubt.”

“How often does it happen?” Sear finished his fish and put his fork down.

“It seems like every night bombs go off, but some will be by those sacrificing themselves. Not often, but on occasion, we have a quiet evening. At least our part of the city hasn’t been targeted.”

A low-intensity rumble rolled through the sky, growing louder as aircraft returned once again.

“I hope you didn’t speak too soon.” Sear grinned. “Is there an air raid shelter?”

Dabir nodded. “Come this way. We do not want to tempt fate any more than necessary.” He handed out flashlights.

As Dabir led them through a doorway and down a flight of stairs into the basement, the whistling of falling munitions filled the air.

Ka-Boom! Ka-Boom!

“Hurry, everyone!” Dabir shined his light on the steps.

They joined the four locals huddled inside a room reinforced with steel girders as the building continued to shake.

Smash! Crunch! Crack! Tinkle!

Hotel windows broke under the concussion from the nearby explosions.

Why can’t I get a mission to a peaceful country?  Sear shook his head. Perhaps somewhere in the mountains, like a chalet overlooking Lake Lucerne, Switzerland?

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 2023 Randall Krzak. All rights reserved

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Randall’s Ramblings, August 27, 2023

Randall Krzak

It’s been a drier week–at last! While the temperatures have struggled to reach into the upper 60s F (20C), there’s been a good amount of sunshine.  We’ve had cooler temperatures during the evenings and some of the leaves are already falling. I did manage to get some of the grass cut, which really needed it as it was getting pretty long.

Over the past week, the price of gasoline (petrol) increased another two pence, bringing it up to 1.53 a liter. With the current exchange rate, this kept an equivalent U.S. gallon at $7.26. Meanwhile, the price of a liter of diesel rose to £1.54.

“Read, read, read. Read everything – trash, classics, good and bad, and see how they do it. Just like a carpenter who works as an apprentice and studies the master. Read! You’ll absorb it. Then write. If it’s good, you’ll find out. If it’s not, throw it out of the window.” — William Faulkner. Compliments of https://selfpublishing.com/writing-quotes/.

So who was born on this date in history? Let’s find out who in the writing world was born on 27 August, the fourth and final Sunday of the month. (Compliments of https://www.onthisday.com/birthdays/):

Johann Georg Hamann, German counter-enlightenment philosopher (“Reason is language”); Herman Muntinghe, Dutch theologist (History of Mankind); Edward Beecher, American theologian; Albijn van de Abeele, Flemish author and painter; Gustave J Waffelaert, Flemish theologist and bishop of Bridge; Manuel Acuña, Mexican poet (Nocturno); Iwan Franko, Ukrainian writer and political activist; Amado Nervo [Juan Crisóstomo Ruiz de Nervo], Mexican writer and poet; Theodore Dreiser, merican novelist (Sister Carie, American Tragedy); Lloyd C. Douglas, American novelist (The Big Fisherman); C. S. Forester, English historical novelist (Horatio Hornblower); Xavier Villaurrutia, Mexican poet (Nocturno de los Angeles); Norah Lofts, British author (The Town House); Catherine Marshall, American editor and writer; Walter Heller, economist (Old Myths & New Realities); David Rowbotham, Australian poet and journalist; Ira Levin, American author (Rosemary Baby, Boys From Brazil, This Perfect Day); Antonia Fraser, British author and biographer (Mary Queen of Scots); Frank Yablans, American writer (North Dallas Forty); Michael Holroyd, author; Don Miguel Ruiz, Mexican spiritual teacher and author (The Four Agreements); and Tom Lanoye, Belgian author.

Any names familiar to you? there was one for me this week: C. S. Forester. 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

Mission- YemenThis week, I completed chapter ten  of Mission: Yemen, Xavier Sear Thriller Book 2. As always, it’s been posted to the two online writing sites I use. A further eighteen reviews came in this week, bringing the total to 177. As always, there are plenty of recommendations for me to consider, and I’m always appreciative of the time and effort people put into reviewing my work.

Here’s another snippet. Please keep in mind that since these are first-draft chapters, things will likely be changed once I get to the editing phase. In the meantime, if you have any suggestions, please let me know.

Shatara stumbled.

The brothers yanked her to her feet. Without a word, they kept marching her along.

What’s that noise? Shatara struggled to keep pace with the brothers as they climbed a flight of stairs.

A door banged open, and the sounds increased.

We’re outside. But where are we?

Wazir and Yusuf marched her to the rear of a dilapidated vehicle.

While Yusuf fumbled in a pocket for the keys, Wazir held on tight to Shatara’s arm.

She winced. “You’re hurting me.”

Yusuf opened the trunk of the vehicle.

They scooted her to the edge. Without warning, they lifted her and shoved her inside the trunk.

“Aaaaaaaah”

Shatara screamed as the lid was slammed shut. She pulled off the hood.

Darkness.

The men climbed in the front seats. With jerking movements, the vehicle moved forward, as one of them maneuvered into the almost-deserted street.

Shatara became ill with the bouncing of the vehicle as the trunk filled with exhaust fumes. She screamed again and coughed, the acrid fumes burning her throat.

About fifteen minutes later, although she didn’t know for sure, the car came to a halt. The car doors opened and were slammed shut.

Shatara worked the hood back over her chador. What’s going to happen now?

One of the men opened the trunk, and together they yanked her out and helped her stand.

“Do not make a sound, or you will regret it.” Yusuf squeezed her arm. “Do you understand? No one will come to your rescue.”

“Y-Yes. Don’t hurt me.”

“We are going to go down a flight of stairs and take you through a door. Once inside the building, we will take you to your new home.”

Both men laughed.

Shatara slipped on the steps as they descended, banging a knee against the railing.

After they were inside the building and the exterior door was shut, Wazir removed her hood. “Do not attempt to run. There is no place for you to go.” He pointed down a dimly lit corridor. “You will be staying in a room on the right. Follow me.”

Wazir led the way, and Shatara followed, with Yusuf pushing her on a shoulder from behind.

After unlocking the third door on the right, Wazir entered.

Yusuf shoved her inside.

Shatara glanced around. Against the right wall, there was a bed with two blankets folded on the end of the mattress, and a pillow. Next to the bed was a small rickety table with a lamp, and beside it, a small chest of drawers. Next to the lamp was a full bottle of water. Basic but much better than the cell where they held me.

Wazir pointed to a closed door. “Your toilet is in there. There is no way to escape, so make yourself comfortable.

Both men chuckled.

“What about food? I’m hungry.”

“You will have to wait until the morning.” Yusuf marched to the door and held it open. “Time to go, Wazir.”

“Give me a minute.” He turned to Shatara. “Prince al Mishari will visit you in the morning.” Wazir shrugged. “He will decide whether you eat or starve to death.”

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 2023 Randall Krzak. All rights reserved

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Randall’s Ramblings, August 20, 2023

Randall Krzak

It’s been another week of topsy-turvy weather, in part from Storm Betty, which is lashing the UK with strong winds, lightening, and as much as a month’s worth of rain. In our area, we did manage to get some decent weather for a couple of days, although for the most part it’s been below par. At least there were some brights spots which allowed me to cut the grass before it got any longer.

Over the past week, the price of gasoline (petrol) increased another three pence, bringing it up to 1.51 a liter. With the current exchange rate, this increases an equivalent U.S. gallon up to $7.26. Meanwhile, the price of a liter of diesel rose to £1.52.

“Write while the heat is in you. The writer who postpones the recording of his thoughts uses an iron which has cooled to burn a hole with.” — Henry David Thoreau. Compliments of https://selfpublishing.com/writing-quotes/.

So who was born on this date in history? Let’s find out who in the writing world was born on 20 August, the third Sunday of the month. (Compliments of https://www.onthisday.com/birthdays/):

Peter Opmeer, Dutch church historian and humanist (Historia Martyrum); Thomas Corneille, French playwright (Timocrates); Bolesław Prus, Polish writer (The Outpost); Innokenti F Annenski, Russian poet and interpreter (Laodania); Jakub Bart-Ćišinski, Sorbian writer; Edgar Albert Guest, English-American poet and newspaperman; Dino Campana, Italian poet (Canti orfici); Paul Tillich, German-American theologist (Die sozial Entscheidung); H. P. Lovecraft, American horror writer (At the Mountains of Madness, Weird Tales); Tarjei Vesaas, Norwegian poet and author (Det Store Spelet); Vilhelm Moberg, Swedish author (The Emigrants) and historian; Salvatore Quasimodo, Italian poet, critic and translator (Nobel 1959); Jean Gebser, German-born author, linguist, and poet; Jeanne Stern, German screenwriter (The Condemned Village); Jacqueline Susann, American author (Valley of the Dolls); Vasily Aksyonov, Soviet-Russian novelist (The Burn); Greg Bear, American sci-fi author (2 Hugos, Eon, Eternity); Greg Egan, Australian science fiction and hard science author; and Marcus Mastin, American author.

Any names familiar to you? Once again,  there weren’t any for me. 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

Mission- YemenThis week, I completed chapter nine  of Mission: Yemen, Xavier Sear Thriller Book 2. As always, it’s been posted to the two online writing sites I use. A further twenty-six reviews came in this week, bringing the total to 159. Once again there are plenty of recommendations for me to consider, and I’m always appreciative of the time and effort people put into my work.

Here’s another snippet. Please keep in mind that since these are first-draft chapters, things will likely be changed once I get to the editing phase. In the meantime, if you have any suggestions, please let me know.

After al Mishari departed, Shatara ripped the chador from her body and tossed it on the blanket. She leaned against the wall, sliding down to a sitting position with her knees up and her arms around them. What is to become of me? How will Baba ever find me?

As tears threatened to spill once again, a look of steely determination caressed her face. I will never betray Baba, but if I pretend to change my mind about marriage, will al Mishara allow me more freedom?

Shatara closed her eyes, thinking about the day she was whisked from her home. I was enjoying tea by the pool with Omm, sharing a dish of fasolia and khubz. I dipped the bread into the spicy pepper sauce and scooped the beans and tomatoes into my mouth.

Without warning, two men rushed around the pool, one on either side. They shoved Omm out of the way and grabbed me. One yanked my head back to stop me from escaping,  and the other pushed a needle into my arm.

Oh, I hope Omm wasn’t hurt.

Shatara opened her eyes and began to pray, the only sane part of her captivity.

The lightbulb popped on, signaling the paltry rations would be delivered soon.

Despite losing weight on the simple diet, her stomach rumbled in anticipation of her daily meal.

Moments later, the hatch slid open, and two small pieces of bread and a banana fell to the floor.

Allah be praised! My first banana since I was kidnapped. Shatara pushed the bread aside and peeled the banana, savoring every bite of the bruised fruit. After she finished, she broke the crust off the bread. No fresh water tonight. She dunked the bread in the remains of yesterday’s scummy water and shoved it in her mouth, gagging at the stench from the water.

Still hungry, she crawled onto the blanket and used the chador as a pillow. She cried herself to sleep.

She eventually woke. The light was no longer on, but there was moonlight filtering through the bars on the window. She spotted a shining star and focused on it. Oh, Baba. I hope this is you keeping watch over me.

Measured footsteps thudded along the corridor.

Shatara struggled into the chador seconds before the door was shoved open.

Two men stepped inside the cell, both gangly, with dark hair and scraggly beards.

One was slightly taller than the other and addressed Shatara. “I am Wazir and this is my brother, Yusuf. We are to take you to a new location.”

Yusuf pinched the end of his nose. “This place stinks. You are a mess.” He held out a black hood. “Put this on.”

“I have no control over the smell.” She pointed toward the waste bucket. “It is only emptied every two or three days.”

Yusuf shook his hand holding the hood. “I said, put this on.”

“Why? I have already seen your faces.”

“Do you always talk back?” Yusuf sighed. “If you must know, we do not want you to see where you’ve been held or where we are taking you.”

“It is for your own protection, should you be released.” Wazir pointed to the hood. “Take it—now.”

Shatara took the hood and pulled it over her chador. “I can’t see.”

“Good. That is the purpose of the hood.”

“How will I be able to walk?”

Yusuf grabbed one of her arms. “We will guide you.”

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 2023 Randall Krzak. All rights reserved

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Randall’s Ramblings, August 13, 2023

Randall Krzak

Not much change over the past week with our local weather patterns. We still have below normal temperatures and rain/showers on most days. We did have a brief reprieve for about forty-eight hours when the temperature hit 72F (22C) with only one shower. Right now, we have overcast skies with more showers in the forecast, and the temperature is 59F (15C).

It took several months for the price of gasoline (petrol) to drop from a high of £1.67 a liter which we experienced in October 2022 to £1.41. Over the past three weeks, the price began increasing again, and is now up to £1.48 liter. With the current exchange rate, this make an equivalent U.S. gallon $7.10. The price is expected to  increase further.

“Writing a book is a horrible, exhausting struggle, like a long bout of some painful illness. One would never undertake such a thing if one were not driven on by some demon whom one can neither resist nor understand.” — George Orwell. Compliments of https://selfpublishing.com/writing-quotes/.

So who was born on this date in history? Let’s find out who in the writing world was born on 13 August, the second Sunday of the month. (Compliments of https://www.onthisday.com/birthdays/):

William Caxton, English printer and translator, 1st to print in the English language (Histories of Troy); William Wotton, English theologian and scholar; John Dyer, Welsh painter and poet, (Grongar Hill); Nikolaus Lenau, Hungarian-German poet (Faust, Die Albigenser); Vladimir Odoevsky, Russian philosopher & writer; Joseph Alberdingk Thijm, Dutch poet (Dietsche Warande); Goldwin Smith, English historian and journalist; Rodolphe Bresdin, French visionary engraver and lithographer (Le Bon Samaritain); Rudolf Georg Binding, German songwriter and writer (Legenden Der Zeit); William Alexander Craigie, Scottish lexicographer (Skotlands Rimur); Jacqueline Reyneke van Stuwe, Dutch author; Howard Marks, British drug dealer and author (Mr Nice); Tom Perrotta, American novelist (Little Children); Amélie Nothomb, Belgian writer (Fear and Trembling); Will Clarke, American novelist (The Neon Palm of Madame Melançon); Kamila Shamsie, Pakistani British writer (Home Fire); and Ibram X. Kendi, American author and anti-racist activist.

Any names familiar to you? There weren’t any for me this time. Whether you recognize anyone on the list or not, if today’s your special day I hope you have a great one!

My Published Work

Frozen-Conquest-eBook-Cover-HRThis week, Frozen Conquest received its second Amazon review–another five star!  Here it is:

Awesome Cold Thriller

From his Antarctica-based outpost an arrogant billionaire, whose real motivation is power, hacks into the world’s banking systems and threatens anarchy. I’m on my second reading; great book.

Many thanks, Des, for taking the time to leave a review.

My Work In Progress

Mission- YemenThis week, I completed chapter eight  of Mission: Yemen, Xavier Sear Thriller Book 2. As always, it’s been posted to the two online writing sites I use. A further nineteen reviews came in this week, bringing the total to 133. As always, plenty of recommendations for me to consider.

Here’s another snippet. Please keep in mind that since these are first-draft chapters, things will likely be changed once I get to the editing phase. In the meantime, if you have any suggestions, please let me know.

Prince Hussein Khan al Mishari, a minor member of the House of Saud, crossed his arms as he stared at Shatara. “So, what is your answer?”

She stared at him before lowering her head. “Sir, I … I cannot marry you—at least not yet. I am only sixteen. I had hoped to wait until I was more than eighteen like my mother did.”

“Nonsense.” He waved a hand to dismiss her response before recrossing his arms. “Most females in Yemen marry before they are eighteen, some as young as eight or nine. Why should you be any different?”

She glanced at the dirty stone walls and floor of her prison before pointing to the waste bucket in a corner. “Sir, it is hard for me to contemplate my future with anyone when I’m kept in such horrible conditions. Even the rats refuse to eat the food I am given.”

“Sabberny ya rabb.” al Mishari shook his head. “I definitely need Allah to give me the patience to deal with you.”

“Someone kidnapped me off the street at least three weeks ago. I’m  the one who needs the fortitude to handle this situation.” She wiped her hand down the chador. “As you can see, this is dirty, and so are my clothes underneath. This never happened at my home. I’m also bored—there’s nothing to do but pray. Can’t I have a book or two?”

“You are a very impertinent, young lady.” He glared at her. “It is clear you were not taught proper manners by your parents.”

“They did so—they just believe in allowing my brother and me to express ourselves. Although they are Muslim, they’ve experienced life in other cultures and have an open mind to how things should be.”

He frowned. “Well, if you were my daughter or one of my wives, you would be taught to show proper respect.” He shook his head again. “It might be easier for both of us if you sign the document.”

“No. I told you before I would not lie about my father and sign your false statement condemning him. Nor do I want to marry you.”

al Mishari glanced around the cell. “Perhaps you would have a different opinion of me if you were kept in better surroundings. I do admit this is rather bleak.”

Shatara smiled. “At least you are showing some common sense. But I would rather be back in Haddah, enjoying my family’s mansion.”

He tapped a finger against his lips. “When I first came to Sana’a, I acquired a number of properties. I shall arrange for two of my men to move you late this evening when the streets are quiet.”

“Where will they take me?”

“It is not important where you will be as you will still be under guard at all times. We will speak later” He turned and opened the door. After locking it, he marched away.

More next time.

My Published Work – Promotions

The Kurdish Connection, Dangerous Alliance, Colombian Betrayal, Mission: Angola, and Frozen Conquest are participating in a Thrillers and Suspense promotion through the end of August. There are seventy-eight Mystery & Suspense, Mystery & Suspense / Thriller, and Romance / Suspense novels to choose from, so when you have a moment or two, please check it out.

Frozen Conquest and Colombian Betrayal are participating in an August ebook sales, deals & steals for mystery, suspense, thrillers and mayhem. Only two titles were allowed per author. There are fifty-eight books to check out in this one.

https://books.bookfunnel.com/mystery-romance2/6e3yxv7hc5

Here’s another promotion, called Vengeance. The Kurdish Connection and Dangerous Alliance are two of the sixty-nine participating titles.

https://books.bookfunnel.com/r…

And, finally, all of my novels are involved in a Heart-Pounding Reads promotion. There are 119 novels to choose from in this one.

https://books.bookfunnel.com/h…

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 2023 Randall Krzak. All rights reserved

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Randall’s Ramblings, July 23, 2023

Randall Krzak

It’s been another wet week, with rain five of the past seven days. Sometimes there were light showers while at other times there were heavy downpours. The temperatures are also lower than normal. Right now, it’s 54F (13C) but feels like 44F/7C. Of course, the wind coming from the north is keeping the temperatures down.

We’ve had a great week despite the weather as our son, who lives in Washington, D.C., arrived on Monday for a ten-day visit. On Thursday, one of the dry days, we went to Linlithgow Palace, the birthplace of Mary, Queen of Scots. The palace was one of the principal residences of the monarchs of Scotland in the 15th and 16th centuries, but was burned out in 1746. However, it’s still worth a visit if you’re in the area.

“Read, read, read. Read everything – trash, classics, good and bad, and see how they do it. Just like a carpenter who works as an apprentice and studies the master. Read! You’ll absorb it. Then write. If it’s good, you’ll find out. If it’s not, throw it out of the window.” – William Faulkner. Compliments of https://www.inc.com/glenn-leibowitz/50-quotes-from-famous-authors-that-will-inspire-yo.html.

So who was born on this date in history? Let’s find out who in the writing world was born on 23 July, the fourth and final Sunday of the month. (Compliments of https://www.onthisday.com/birthdays/):

Francis Blomefield, English topographer (History of Norfolk); Coventry Patmore, English poet and critic (The Angel in the House); Edmund John Armstrong, Irish poet; Salvador de Madariaga y Rojo, Spanish diplomat and writer (Englishmen, Frenchmen, Spaniards); Gluyas Williams, American cartoonist (Fellows Citizen); Raymond Chandler, American-British mystery novelist and screenwriter (Farewell My Lovely; The Long Goodbye; The Big Sleep); Elspeth Huxley, English author (The Flame Trees of Thika and The Mottled Lizard); Michael Foot, British politician (L) and writer, Leader of the Opposition (1980-83); Ronald Ridout, English school textbook author (English Today); Cyril M. Kornbluth, American sci-fi writer (Space Merchants); Gavin Lambert, British-American screenwriter (Inside Daisy Clover); Ludvik Vaculik, Czech writer (Two Thousand Words); Hubert Selby Jr., American author (Last Exit to Brooklyn); Guy Fournier, French Canadian author and screenwriter; Nicholas Barrington, British high commissioner (Pakistan) and author (A passage to Nuristan: exploring the mysterious Afghan hinterland); and Carl Phillips, American poet (“Then the War” – 2023 Pulitzer Prize for Poetry).

Any names familiar to you? There were two for me this week: Michael Foot and Nicholas Barrington. Whether you recognize anyone on the list or not, if today’s your special day I hope you have a great one!

My Published Work – Promotions

The Kurdish Connection, Dangerous Alliance, Colombian Betrayal, Mission: Angola, and Frozen Conquest are participating in a Thrillers and Suspense promotion through the end of August. There are seventy-eight Mystery & Suspense, Mystery & Suspense / Thriller, and Romance / Suspense novels to choose from, so when you have a moment or two, please check it out.

My Work In Progress

Mission- YemenThis week, I completed chapter five  of Mission: Yemen, Xavier Sear Thriller Book 2. It’s been posted to the two online writing sites I use. A further twenty-two reviews came in this week, bringing the total to seventy-three. As always, plenty of recommendations for me to consider.

Here’s another snippet. Please keep in mind that since these are first-draft chapters, things will likely be changed once I get to the editing phase. In the meantime, if you have any suggestions, please let me know.

A man with salt and pepper hair and dark brown eyes sat in a window seat on the United Nations flight as it circled Sana’a International Airport as it prepared to land. Squashed into the seat by the huge man sitting in the middle, he gazed out the window as he rubbed the three-day growth on his face. He grabbed the armrests as the aircraft rocked in the slight turbulence. I hate airplanes. Why couldn’t I have driven in? Although I suppose a UN flight might be safer than one of the resumed commercial flights.

His real name long forgotten, the man now known as Xavier Sear continued to study the digital file provided by Ron Vincent. Sear received the file while attending the twentieth wedding anniversary of long-time friends, João and Catarina Regaleira. João had convinced him to help rescue an Angolan doctor who had been kidnapped by guerillas in the Democratic Republic of the Congo while working for the Christian Aid Mission. Sear met up with Vincent while in Lisbon and received his latest mission.

Once a member of the CIA’s Special Activities Division (SAD), responsible for covert and paramilitary operations, Sear now worked as a free-lance contractor. While he could accept or reject any assignment, he usually agreed to those Vincent recommended. Hope this one is as easy as the one in the DRC. Not that any of the missions Vincent gives me are easy.

He clicked a button to return to the beginning of the file. The first item was a series of photos depicting the Bashari family: Abdullah; his wife, Yasmin Rashid; sixteen-year-old daughter, Shatara; and fourteen-year-old son, Zahid. A lovely looking family. Their love for each other is apparent in their expressions throughout the pictures.

The plane rocked again as the landing wheels locked into place.

Sear closed the file, removed the thumb drive, and shut down his iPad before stowing it in his carryon bag, shoved between his legs. He inched the drive into his front pocket. Don’t want to lose this.

The aircraft bounced once as it landed before the pilot leveled off and rocketed toward the terminal.

Sear clung onto the armrests. Can’t blame the pilot for hurrying. We’re a sitting target and could be caught up in the fighting between the Saudi-led coalition and the Houthis. I hope Malik and Qasim received the message I’m arriving today. If not, I’ll have to go to ground until I can contact them.

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 2023 Randall Krzak. All rights reserved

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Randall’s Ramblings, July 16, 2023

Randall Krzak

It’s been a wet week, with rain almost every day. Sometimes there were light showers while at other times there were heavy downpours. Last night on the news during the weather segment, the announcer stated July was a wetter-than-normal month and it’s expected to continue for at least the next week.

“Close the door. Write with no one looking over your shoulder. Don’t try to figure out what other people want to hear from you; figure out what you have to say. It’s the one and only thing you have to offer.” – Barbara Kingsolver. Compliments of: https://getfreewrite.com/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 16 July, the third Sunday of the month. (Compliments of https://www.onthisday.com/birthdays/):

Marc René, Marquis de Montalembert, French military engineer and writer; da B. Wells (-Barnett), American journalist, civil rights activist, and co-founder of the NAACP; George A. Birmingham, Irish clergyman and novelist; Lambert McKenna, Irish editor and lexicographer; Larry Semon, American silent film actor, director, producer, and screenwriter (The Wizard of Oz (1925)); Maurits Dekker, Dutch novelist and playwright (Merkteken; Boots In Jail); Edward Miller, British historian and Master (Fitzwilliam College Cambridge); Trevor Illtyd Williams, scientific writer; Shirley Hughes, English author and illustrator (Dogger); Anita Brookner, English novelist (Hotel du Lac) and art historian; Robert Sheckley, American sci-fi author (10th Victim, Mindswap); Lady Caroline Blackwood, British journalist and writer (The Last of the Duchess); Tom Rosenthal, British publisher and broadcaster; Marion Pitt, social worker/writer; Reinaldo Arenas, Cuban poet and novelist (Pentagonia); Esther Friesner, American sci-fi author (Witchwood Cradle); Tony Kushner, American playwright and screenwriter (Angels in America: A Gay Fantasia on National Themes); Alexandra Marinina, Russian writer (Igra Na Chuzhom Pole); Johnny Vaughan, English writer and broadcaster (Capital Breakfast); and Will Ferrell, American Emmy and Raspberry Award-winning comic actor and writer (SNL, 1995-2002; Anchorman; Elf; Step Brothers); Larry Sanger, American co-founder of Wikipedia.

Any names familiar to you? There were three for me this week: Will Ferrell. Whether you recognize anyone on the list or not, if today’s your special day I hope you have a great one!

My Published Work – Promotions

The Kurdish Connection, Dangerous Alliance, Colombian Betrayal, Mission: Angola, and Frozen Conquest are participating in a Thrillers and Suspense promotion through the end of August. There are seventy-eight Mystery & Suspense, Mystery & Suspense / Thriller, and Romance / Suspense novels to choose from, so when you have a moment or two, please check it out.

My Work In Progress

Mission- YemenThis week, I completed chapters three and four of Mission: Yemen, Xavier Sear Thriller Book 2. Both chapters have been posted to the two online writing sites I use. A further thirty-one reviews, bringing the total to fifty-one. As always, plenty of recommendations for me to consider.

Here’s another snippet. Please keep in mind that since these are first-draft chapters, things will likely be changed once I get to the editing phase. In the meantime, if you have any suggestions, please let me know.

Shatara scurried forward as a chunk of bread and an apple dropped through a slot. Moments later, the door inched open, and a fresh bucket of water was shoved inside before the door slammed shut.

She studied the stale bread. Larger than normal. Makes up for the bruised apple. Oh well. She broke off several small pieces of the crust and put them in the corner. Here, Bushra, you may eat when you are ready.

Shatara scooped dead flies from the top of the new water bucket. Stomach rumbling, she broke off pieces of the bread and dunked them in the tepid water before shoving them into her mouth. After finishing the bread, she bit into the apple. She shook her head at the bitter flavors while she savored the juice trickling down her parched throat.

After finishing her meager meal, Shatara leaned against the wall opposite the window. She could make out a few stars appearing, as well as a sliver of a new moon. They were soon blotted out. The sounds of the wind picking up whistled through the bars as sand splattered the outside of the building, as noisy as if it were a tropical storm.

She crept back to the water bucket and dipped her hand into the tepid liquid, cupping her fingers as she brought a small handful towards her mouth. After wetting her lips, she spat it out and returned to her blanket.

With the cooler breezes because of the approaching storm, she spread the chador across the blanket to give greater warmth. Before long, she fell asleep.

***

Shatara tossed and turned for hours. At one point, she reflected on her family. Tears formed as she thought of her parents and her brother, Zahid. I miss them so much. Will I ever see them again?

At long last, she drifted into a troubled sleep, the blanket and chador tight around her body.

***

The morning call to prayer woke her from a restless night. Body aching, she stretched to work out some of the kinks. What will today bring? Will Baba find me and take me home? She began her preparations for the Fajr, or the first prayer of the day.

“Aaaaaaaah!”

An ear-piecing screech filled the air, which was abruptly cut off.

What is happening? She dashed to the blanket and tugged on her chador.

Rather than the clip-clop sounds of the jailer, the measured footsteps of someone else echoed in the corridor.

Shatara hurried to don the chador.

The key turned in the lock, squealing as normal.

The door opened, and a man dressed in a white full-length loose-fitting garment with long sleeves known as a thobe and a red and white checkered kaffiyeh stepped inside. “Well? Are you ready? I demand your answer—now. Speak with great care, or it could be your undoing.”

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 2023 Randall Krzak. All rights reserved