Randall Krzak's Blog, page 5

Randall’s Ramblings, November 24, 2024

Forty years ago, Sylvia and I were married in the Hilton Hotel, Nairobi, Kenya. Where has the time gone? After all the years, we can safely say, “We’ve done it!”  We’ll be having a low-keyed day, but received a phone call from our son, which meant the world to us.

Last week, I mentioned that my two favorite college football teams, the University of Michigan Wolverines and the Michigan State Spartans, were having subpar seasons. However, both teams won their games yesterday, with Michigan improving to 6-5, while State is now 5-6.

I made a mistake last week when I said the Kansas City Chiefs were 10-0.  In fact, they were 9-0 and were beaten last Sunday. Meanwhile, the Detroit Lions improved their record to 9-1, rolling over Jacksonville 52-6. Fingers crossed the Lions improve to 10-1 today!

“All good books are alike in that they are truer than if they had really happened and after you are finished reading one you will feel that all that happened to you and afterwards it all belongs to you: the good and the bad, the ecstasy, the remorse and sorrow, the people and the places and how the weather was. If you can get so that you can give that to people, then you are a writer.” – Ernest Hemingway.Compliments of https://getfreewrite.com/blogs/writing-success/32-inspirational-hemingway-quotes-to-get-you-writing.

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

Charles, Duke of Orléans, French poet; Juan de Jáuregui, Spanish poet, scholar and painter of the Spanish Golden Age; Laurence Sterne, Anglo-Irish novelist and satirist (Tristram Shandy); Thomas Dick, Scottish scientific teacher and writer; Ludwig Bechstein, German poet; Carlo Collodi, Italian author (The Adventures of Pinocchio); Frances Hodgson Burnett, British-American playwright and children’s author (“The Secret Garden”; “Little Lord Fauntleroy”); João da Cruz, Brazilian poet; Margaret Caroline Anderson, American publisher; Dale Carnegie, American writer and public speaker (How to Win Friends & Influence People); Cissy van Marxfield [Setske Beek-de Haan], Dutch author of children’s books; Paul Faucher, French author and pioneering children’s publisher (Père Castor); Ward Morehouse, American theater critic and newspaper columnist; Harry Kemelman, American detective author (rabbi-omnibus); Hotze de Roos, Dutch youth book author (Chameleon); Forrest J. Ackerman, American literary agent and writer who invented the term “sci-fi” (Famous Monsters of Filmland); Captain Stubby [Tom Fouts], American author and comedian (Captain Stubby and the Buccaneers); John Silverlight, British journalist (The Observer); Alun Owen, Welsh playwright and screenwriter (The Rise Affair, A Hard Day’s Night); William F. Buckley Jr, American conservative author and commentator (National Review, Firing Line); Ahmadou Kourouma, Ivorian writer; Spencer Johnson, American author (Who Moved My Cheese?); Eric Wilson, Canadian children’s author; Claudia Dreifus, interviewer/author; Jules Deelder, Dutch poet (T of Vondel); Spider Robinson, Canadian sci-fi author (3 Hugo, Callahan’s Secret); Gregory Pardlo, American poet (“Digest” – Pulitzer Prize for Poetry 2015); Marlon James, Jamaican writer (A Brief History of Seven Killings); and Thomas Kohnstamm, American writer.

Any names familiar to you? There were two for me this week: Dale Carnegie and William F. Buckley, Jr. 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

Editing of Mission: Yemen, Xavier Sear Thriller Book 2  is now underway. Chapters forty and forty-one were completed and posted to the two online subscription writing sites I use. Since my last blog post,  the story has received another thirty-one chapter reviews, bringing the total to 630. Now the fun continues as I work through the reviews and pick out what I want to use to improve the story.

Here’s another snippet:

When Sear returned to the Rashid residence, Qasim and Malik sat in the kitchen. They dipped pieces of malawach into a bowl of shakshouka.

Qasim waved a soaked piece of bread at a platter holding mandi, pieces of grilled chicken with fragrant basmati rice. “Help yourself, Sear.”

He sat and studied the food. “Who made it?”

“Parvez, of course. But we supervised to ensure he didn’t add anything he shouldn’t.”

“In that case, pass over a plate.”

Malik filled a dish with the mandi and slid it across the table to Sear.

He followed the brothers, using some malawach as a spoon to scoop up the rice. He picked up a chicken leg and chewed. “Tasty. Has a slight tandoori flavor.”

The brothers nodded. Wasim picked up a leg and tasted it. “Yes, Parvez used a light coating of the seasoning.” He patted his stomach.

“So, how did your meeting with Tarik go?”

Qasim glanced at Malik.

He nodded, indicating he wanted Qasim to answer.

“Well, it was one of our normal hush-hush meetings with him. We met in a burned- out building, so no one he knew would recognize him or us. Tarik is trying to track down subversives who want to weaken or destroy the government. In particular, he’s searching for foreign operators.”

Sear nodded. “Makes sense. Does he think I’m one?”

“No.” Malik shook his head. “At least for now, he’s accepting our vouching for you. We explained you’re here to search for Sayyid Bashari’s missing daughter. He said as long as you stick to that and stay clear of anything which might be construed as subversive, you are free to remain in Yemen.”

“Good. The next time you speak with him, you can reassure him I want nothing to do with the strife between the Houthis and the Saudis.  Once I recover Bashari’s daughter, I plan to leave on the first available flight.”

Malik grinned. “We shall make sure you find the daughter and leave, Sear. We would hate to have you in a Yemeni prison—no telling what you might say about us.”

“You guys are safe with me.” Sear spooned more rice into his mouth and chewed. “Anything to drink?”

Qasim passed over a jug and a glass. “Just almond milk. But, at least it’s cold.”

“Okay.” Sear poured a glass and downed it in a single gulp. “Excellent. So, what else do you have planned for today?”

Qasim took over. “We will join Tarik and some of his colleagues to search some properties in the Bir-al-Azab area of Old Town. He received information some foreigners are living in the area against the law.”

“Okay. After we finish, I’ll head back to the Bashari residence. I’m supposed to meet some of Bashari’s relatives later. They want to be involved in the search for Shatara. Since there are only the two of you and myself, I think we might need their help.”

“You can count on us, Sear. We will do whatever we can.” Malik glanced at his brother.

Qasim nodded. “I agree. Someone took her, and we must find them.”

Sear tightened his jaw. “Yes. And we must bring her back—alive.”

More next time.

My next novel will be Vendetta, the sixth story in my Bedlam series. The first chapter was completed and posted to the two subscription writing sites I use. In the short time since it was posted, there have been eight reviews.  The cover is a filler, as the final cover won’t be done until the entire first draft is completed.

Here’s what Vendetta is about:

The Bedlam organization proceeded with their plans to create a fourth operational team, based in Pretoria, South Africa. The existing team leaders, Craig Cameron, Col Trevor Franklin ®, and Lady Evelyn Evinrude are sent to assist the designated advisor with team member selections.

What should be a routine deployment is anything but as they’re targeted by unknown assailants. Who or what organization is after them, and why?

While assisting with the creation of the new team and searching for those trying to eliminate them, Craig, Trevor, and Evelyn are given a new operational mission.

The Council of Vengeance, an extremist militant group seeks to overthrow the government of a country sympathetic to Western cultures and values. Extortion, bribery, kidnapping, and murder are part of the group’s modus operandi as they surge forward toward their objectives.

How will the Bedlam teams fare in the face of adversity? Or will the militants’ efforts be rewarded?

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

Randall’s Ramblings, November 17, 2024

While my two favorite college football teams, the University of Michigan Wolverines and the Michigan State Spartans, are having subpar seasons, the same can’t be said for my favorite NFL team, the Detroit Lions. The Lions have the second-best record in the NFL at this point, 8-1. Only the Kansas City Chiefs have a better record at 10-0. All being well, the Lions will improve today to 9-1. Fingers crossed!

The exodus of leaves from the trees has continued. Fortunately, since we hired someone this year to maintain our lawn, I didn’t have to spend hours raking them up.  Yesterday was a sunny and dry day when he came, and he made short order of the leaves, using one of his machines to mulch them.

The deer, squirrels, birds, and wild turkeys continue to feast on the offerings we put out for them. I saw a young buck yesterday evening, and yesterday morning eleven turkeys dropped by. Of course, the squirrels and birds visit throughout every day. It’s great to see the wildlife!

“You know that fiction, prose rather, is possibly the roughest trade of all in writing. You do not have the reference, the old important reference. You have the sheet of blank paper, the pencil, and the obligation to invent truer than things can be true. You have to take what is not palpable and make it completely palpable and also have it seem normal and so that it can become a part of experience of the person who reads it.” – Ernest Hemingway.  Compliments of https://getfreewrite.com/blogs/writing-success/32-inspirational-hemingway-quotes-to-get-you-writing.

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

George Grote, British historian (History of Greece); August Wilhelm Ambros, Austrian Czech musicologist (History of Music); Petko Slaveykov, Bulgarian revolutionary writer, poet and politician; Voltairine de Cleyre, American anarchist, writer and speaker; Crane Wilbur, American director and writer (Bat, Canon City, Yellow Cargo); Gregorio López y Fuentes, Mexican author of the Mexican Revolution known for “El Indio”; Roger Vitrac, French poet and dramatist (Coup of Trafalgar); Adam Ważyk [Adam Wagman], Polish poet and author (Eyes & Mouth); Gerald Savory, British actor playwright and TV producer (Heart of the Matter); Ellis Hillman, British Labour party politician, lecturer, and writer (London Under London); Dahlia Ravikovitch, Israeli poet and translator; Auberon Waugh, British author and journalist (Private Eye); Steven E. de Souza, American scriptwriter and producer (Die Hard, Commando); Mark “Chopper” Read, Australian criminal and crime author (Chopper: From the Inside); and Christopher Paolini, American novelist known for “The Inheritance Cycle”.

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

The first draft of Mission: Yemen, Xavier Sear Thriller Book 2  is now finished. Chapters forty and forty-one were completed and posted to the two online subscription writing sites I use. Since my last blog post,  the story has received another twenty-one chapter reviews, bringing the total to 599. Now the fun begins–going through the reviews and picking out what I want to use to improve the story.

Here’s another snippet:

As Prince Sami stopped to study the small village, Wazir nudged him. “Prince Sami, we must return to the vehicle—now!”

“Why so soon? I want to stretch my legs more before we continue.”

“Did you not see the four men with AK-47s?”

“Yes, but I thought it was a common sight given the situation in Yemen.”

Wazir sighed. “They were Houthis. You are well-dressed for this part of Yemen, and therefore, you might be kidnapped for ransom. Hurry, we must go.”

“Oh.”

They rushed to the vehicle and climbed inside.

Yusuf glanced at them from behind the steering wheel. “Houthis?”

“Yes.” Wazir gestured over his shoulder. “Four of them.”

Yusuf put the SUV into gear and pulled out on the highway. “Keep an eye out for them following us.” As he drove, he reached under his seat and pulled out his AK-47.

Wazir did the same. “Prince Sami, there is a weapon under your seat. I assume you know how to use one?”

“Of course.” He scoffed. “One doesn’t grow up in Saudi Arabia without learning to protect oneself—even if they are forbidden.”

Yusuf glanced in the rearview mirror. “So far, no one is following us.” He continued following the road, now crumbling in parts. “So, did you find something to eat?”

“Just a minute, and I will give you something.” Wazir scooped a portion of the food into a smaller bag and handed it to Yusuf. “Here is yours. Do you think we should stop to eat?”

Yusuf shook his head. “Perhaps in a few miles. I want more distance from Al Milah before pulling over.” As he rounded a bend, he slowed.

Ahead, four Houthi men brandished weapons as they manned a checkpoint. Dressed in civilian clothes, signs behind them held Houthi slogans: God is Greater, Death to America, Death to Israel, Curse on the Jews, Victory to Islam.

Yusuf inched forward, coming to a halt beside one of the men.

“Salam alaikum.”

Yusuf nodded. “Wa alaykum as-salam.”

“Why are you on this road?”

“We are returning to Sana’a from Aden.”

The terrorist frowned. “Who is with you?”

“My cousin.” Yusuf gestured toward Wazir. “And a friend of ours who just returned from overseas.”

The man grunted. “There is now a tax for using this road. You must pay two hundred rials per person.” He reached out a hand.

“Just a minute.” Yusuf pulled out the envelope, counted the money, and handed it over.

After counting the notes, the terrorist nodded. “You are short. I said two hundred per person, but there is also a tax for the vehicle—another two hundred.”

“But …” Yusuf sighed as he counted out another two hundred rials. “May we go now?”

“Yes. There are other checkpoints as you drive north. Some of our friends might not be so generous as I have been and will want to inspect your vehicle.”

“Yusuf nodded. “Shukran.”

The man waved them forward.

Yusuf drove ahead, gathering speed as they left the checkpoint behind. “Keep your weapons handy. I have a bad feeling.”

An hour later, they continued climbing in elevation as they approached Ad Dali.

Prince Sami wrapped his thobe tighter around his body. “It is getting cold.”

“Yes. Ad Dali is at about one thousand five hundred meters.”  Wazir gestured behind the prince. “If you are too cold, there should be a blanket in the rear.”

The prince turned around and rummaged in the back. “Yes, I found one. Shukran.”

They passed through Ad Dali without incident, although they had to drive slower due to the myriad of animals and people on the road.

North of the city, Yusuf once again picked up speed. “We will be in Sana’a within two hours.”

Prince Sami yawned. “Good. I am tired from this long and boring drive.”

“At least we made it through the check—”

Three bullets smashed through the windshield, with shards of glass peppering Yusuf and Wazir.

Prince Sami slumped in his seat, blood spreading across his left shoulder, staining his thobe a bright red.

Perhaps 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

Randall’s Ramblings, November 10, 2024

As the days pass, the number of leaves turning color and falling have gone from a trickle, to a mass exodus from trees. Unlike in Scotland, where the fallen leaves almost immediately begin to decay, we’re seeing them remain crisp and crunchy, ready to be raked up. What a difference!

I’ve been recording and watching numerous college football games. One of my favorite teams is the Michigan Wolverines, who aren’t doing too good. Last year at this time they were 10-0. Right now, they’re 5-5. Oh well!  At least the Lions are roaring through the opposition in the National Football League. Right now, they’re top of their division with a 7-1 record. Long may it last!

“I learned never to empty the well of my writing, but always to stop when there was still something there in the deep part of the well, and let it refill at night from the springs that fed it.” Ernest Hemingway. Compliments of https://getfreewrite.com/blogs/writing-success/32-inspirational-hemingway-quotes-to-get-you-writing.

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

Martin Luther, German theologian and key figure in the Protestant Reformation; Laurentius Paulinus Gothus, Swedish theologian and astronomer; acob Cats [Father Cats], Dutch grand pensionary and poet (Houwelyck); Anne “Ninon” de l’Enclos, French patron of the arts, courtesan and writer; Oliver Goldsmith, Irish novelist and dramatist (She Stoops to Conquer); Frederich von Schiller, German poet and lyricist (Ode to Joy); Vladimir Dal, Russian lexicographer (Explanatory Dictionary of the Living Great Russian Language); Dobri Voynikov, Bulgarian teacher, playwright and journalist (The Phoney Civilization); Jose Hernandez, Argentine poet (MartinFierro); Henry Eyster Jacobs, American Lutheran theologian; Winston Churchill, American author (Crisis, Crossing); Nicholas Vachel Lindsay, American poet (Gen William Booth enters Heaven); Patrick Pearse, Irish poet, nationalist and political activist; Aart A. van Schelven, Dutch church historian (Willem of Orange); Jan van Nijlen, Flemish poet and author (Bird Phoenix); Arnold Zweig, German Jewish anti-fascist and author (Erziehung vor Verdun; Der große Krieg der weißen Männer); ohn P. Marquand, American writer (The Late George Apley); Murk Daniel Ozinga, Dutch art historian (Monuments of Curacao); John Moore, English author (Portrait of Elmbury, Brensham Village and The Blue Field); Paweł Jasienica, Polish historian; Álvaro Cunhal, Portuguese writer and politician (Communist Party Secretary-General, 1961-92; Assembly Member, 1976-87); Oda Blinder [Yolanda Corsen], Curaçao-Dutch poet (Doorstep); Russell Means, Native American activist, actor, writer, and musician; Debra Hill, American screenwriter and film producer (Escape from New York); James Chapman, American novelist (Stet); Neil Gaiman, English writer of graphic novels, films and fiction (American Gods, The Graveyard Book, The Ocean at the End of the Lane); Magnús Scheving, Icelandic athlete, writer and producer (LazyTown); and Sean Hughes, Irish stand-up comedian, writer and actor.

Any names familiar to you? There was one for me this week: Martin Luther. 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

Work is moving along on Mission: Yemen, Xavier Sear Thriller Book 2  Chapter thirty-nine was completed and 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 578.

Here’s another snippet:

Yusuf sat behind the wheel of the late model Toyota Landcruiser. White with black trim, it blended in well with other vehicles on the road.

“When will we arrive?” Prince Sami stared out the backseat window, studying the sparse vehicles and pedestrians as they rushed along the highway. He was a thin, short man with a high-pitched, reedy voice. As with most Saudis, he wore a white thobe. A ghutra, a white and red checked headdress with a double black cord known as an agal, covered his head.

Yusuf glanced at Wazir, sitting in the front passenger seat.

Both men rolled their eyes but remained silent.

“Yusuf—when will we get to Sana’a?”

“Sorry, Prince Sami. I didn’t hear you. It will take about five hours—longer if you want to stop and eat on the way. Of course, it will depend on how many checkpoints we come across. Our first stop for food and fuel will be in Lahej if you are hungry. It is only forty-five kilometers from Aden. Otherwise, I suggest we wait until we reach Al Milah, about ninety kilometers.”

“How long will it take before we arrive in Al Milah?”

“About two hours, Prince Sami. But it would be a better place to refuel and eat.”

“Do it.” He closed his eyes.

“Of course, Prince Sami.”

Yusuf gripped the steering wheel tighter as he accelerated around two slow-moving trucks.

When they headed out of Aden, the number of dwellings and shops diminished. The occasional business with farm machinery and broken-down vehicles lined some of the road, while sparse vegetation and vast swathes of sand became the prominent sights.

They continued along the road, with the men apparently lost in their own thoughts.

As they approached Lahej, Yusuf stomped on the brakes, bringing the vehicle to a halt.

Prince Sami grabbed the back of Yusuf’s seat. “What—what is the problem?”

“Ahead—checkpoint.”

“Can we go around it?”

“No, Prince Sami. Any deviation from the road will be suspicious. Most of the guards at the checkpoints just ask questions.” Yusuf yanked an envelope stuffed with money from above the visor. “Let us see what they want.”

Yusuf changed gears as the vehicle in front of them moved forward. With a lurch, the Landcruiser rocked as Yusuf drove over some rocks placed on the road as an impediment.

When their turn came, Yusuf stopped near two soldiers.

One of them stepped to the window while the other remained in position, his AK-47 pointed at Yusuf.

The one who stepped forward stared at Yusuf. “Where you come from?”

“Aden.”

“Where you go?”

“Sana’a.” He gestured over his shoulder at Prince Sami. “We are taking this important visitor to meet with his brother.”

The man frowned before holding out a hand.

Yusuf smiled as he slid several Yemeni rial notes from the envelope and handed them over.

The man counted the money and smiled. “You may go.”

Yusuf nodded. Once again, the vehicle lurched as he put it in gear, and they continued their journey.

Once they gained some space from the checkpoint, Yusuf slowed. “See, Prince Sami? No problem.” Yusuf picked up speed. “We should be near Al Milah in about forty-five minutes.”

“Good. I am ready to eat.”

More next time.

During the past week, I also finished editing chapters 8-10 of The Great Rebellion, and sent them to my co-author for review. I won’t be posting the cover or any of the chapters here, per the desires of my co-author.

Once the first draft of Mission: Yemen is completed, I’ll begin work on Vendetta, the sixth novel in my Bedlam series. More of this later.

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

Randall’s Ramblings, November 3, 2024

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

Randall’s Ramblings, October 27,2024

There’s been progress regarding the issues that hit our area with Hurricane Helene. The bridge that has been out on a road I use is now back in service. Also, the internet outage in the area is over–that’s the good news. We still don’t have internet service despite rebooting the router multiple times as recommended, and the soonest a technician will be able to make a house call is the  5th of November. At least the mobile hotspot we purchased is giving us the connectivity we need.

On a separate note, the leaves are changing as we go through autumn. We see deer on a regular basis coming for the shelled corn we put out, and a couple of days ago we were visited by eleven wild turkeys. Meanwhile, the squirrels are harvesting the nuts from the walnut and acorn trees and preparing for winter.

“For your born writer, nothing is so healing as the realization that he has come upon the right word.”—Catherine Drinker Bowen.  Compliments of http://www.nicolemgulotta.com/blog-25-inspirational-quotes.

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

Christopher Columbus Andres, American diplomat, newspaperman, author, and Brevet Major General (Union Army); Emily Post, American authority on social behaviour and writer (Etiquette); Henry Tate, Australian composer and poet; Enid Bagnold, British novelist (Chalk Garden, 1956 Award of Merit); Graciliano Ramos, Brazilian author (Vidas Secas); Victor E. van Vriesland, Dutch poet (Mirror of Dutch Poetry); Joseph Medicine Crow, Native American chief and historian; Dylan Thomas, Welsh poet and writer (Child’s Christmas in Wales); Kazimierz Brandys, Polish essayist and writer; Babs Gonzales [Lee Brown], American be-bop jazz vocalist, poet, and songwriter (“Oop-Pop-A-Da”); Warren Allen Smith, American gay rights activist and writer; Nawal el-Saadawi, Egyptian feminist writer and activist; Sylvia Plath, American poet (The Colossus; Three Women), novelist (The Bell Jar), and posthumous Pulitzer Prize winner (Poetry, 1982); Maxine Hong Kingston, American author (The Woman Warrior); Terry Anderson, American journalist, US hostage held in Lebanon (1985-91); Robin Miller, American motorsports journalist (Indianapolis Star, Autoweek, Car and Driver, ESPN, Speed, NBCSN); Fran Lebowitz, American author and actress (Resident Alien); aq D. Hawkins, British author, occultist and lecturer; and Anthony Doerr, American writer (All the Light We Cannot See – Pulitzer Prize for Fiction 2015).

Any names familiar to you? There were three for me this week: Emily Post, Sylvia Plath, and Terry Anderson. 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 are almost ready to post 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 554.

Here’s another snippet:

“But his love for both fields led to his selection as Yemen’s cultural attaché and our eventual move to Europe.” Yasmin’s face beamed.

Bashari glanced at his wife and smiled. “Our tenure in Europe resulted in changes in the family. We picked up several Western ideas and values. Our children learned them as well, which is why Shatara is more outspoken than most Yemeni women.”

“It is good for her to have an open mind. Likewise, it will help Zahid to blend into other cultures.”

Bashari nodded. “As always, you’re wisdom speaks volumes, Yasmin.” He frowned. “However, the current situation in Yemen is not one used to people speaking their minds.”

“What are your plans now?” Sear tapped the side of his head. “ I mean once we recover Shatara?”

“I shall return to work. I’ve been asked to spend more time preserving Yemen’s heritage. Many of the locations are now identified as UNESCO world cultural sites, although the fighting stops everyone except those who are the bravest to visit them. I am hoping Zahid will work with me. There are many spots which haven’t received the UNESCO linkage but are still of importance to the country.”

Sear nodded. “Who do you think is holding Shatara, and where?”

“As with many Yemenis who do not agree with the fighting between the Saudis and the Houthis, I have made enemies. It is possible some of the Houthis, especially those embedded with Ansar Allah, might have taken her to teach me a lesson. I refuse to aid them in their cause, which I believe is counter-productive as they are pro-Iranian. They want to take over all of Yemen and attack the United States, Israel, and Saudi Arabia. While I do not subscribe to the tenets followed by the Saudis and Israel, we need to learn to live together in peace, not aggression. Moderation is the key to living together, not just here but everywhere.”

Sear pursed his lips. “Do you find your opinions in the minority?”

“Yes, I do. However, this is something I believe in, and I shall do my best to assist my country in becoming a prosperous nation where people with differing opinions can still share viewpoints without killing one another.”

“I hope I don’t offend you, Bashari, but don’t you think you have a rather simplistic viewpoint of the world?”

Bashari glanced at his wife and laughed. “Yes, I support I do. However, living in Europe taught both of us it is better to live together with mutual respect rather than always fighting.”

Sear nodded. “I suppose you’re right. So where do you think those who kidnapped Shatara are holding her?”

“I have given this some thought, and I believe they will be found in the more remote areas. Of course, I could be mistaken.” He studied Sear’s face. “I hope you will do whatever you can to bring our daughter back to us. “He glanced at Yasmin. “Alive.”

Sear nodded. “I will do everything possible to bring her back to you.” But I’m not sure what I can do by myself, and Vincent said no foreign support given the current situation in-country. He rubbed his stubble. “I might need some assistance. Do you know where I can find some guys experienced with fighting?”

Bashari and Yasmin glanced at each other and smiled.

“My late husband’s family wants revenge for his death. He had four brothers, and they have some grown-up sons who will want to help.”

“Okay.” Would prefer qualified fighters, but I can’t be choosy. He glanced at Bashari. “How about you?”

“I have two older brothers. They both have two sons, and all are experienced fighters.” He put up a hand and counted fingers as he stared at the ceiling. “I can also count on eight cousins.”

“Where do they live?”

“They are all in the Aden area—they’re fishermen. But I know they will help.”

At least eighteen. Will it be enough? Sear studied Bashari and Yasmin’s faces. “Should it be necessary for you and your family to leave Yemen once I find Shatara, will you be able to do so?”

“Yes. I shall do whatever is necessary to keep my family together. I made many friends in Europe, and I am sure they will help us begin a new life.” Bashari sighed. “Compared to most Yemenis, we are considered wealthy. But wealth brings its own dangers. I also know a secret that might be useful as a bargaining chip.” He stared at Sear. “But it might be dangerous.”

“What is that?”

“There is a Saudi faction living in Yemen. They are trying to keep a damaging secret from the rest of Saudi Arabia and moderates in Yemen. If their secret is revealed, the truth will pit family against family, brother against brother, until the sands are colored with blood.”

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

Randall’s Ramblings, October 20, 2024

We’re finally back on the internet via a mobile hotspot after Hurricane Helene passed through our area. We were fortunate as we only had numerous branches fall and no rain/water damage.

One neighbor had a near-miss when an oak tree split in two and just missed the back of their house. Another neighbor lucked out when an uprooted evergreen land just a few feet from the front of their house. Throughout the area, numerous trees and power lines crisscrossed multiple roads, making them impassible until crews could clear the debris. One bridge is still out and two other roads had to be repaired before traffic could use them. Crews are still hard at work to restore things.

“I love writing. I love the swirl and swing of words as they tangle with human emotions.” — James Michener. Compliments of nicolemgulotta.com/blog-25-inspiratio....

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

Giovanni Rucellai, Italian humanist and poet (The Bees – one of the 1st famous poems in blank verse); Belle van Zuylen, Dutch-Swiss writer (Three Women); Karl Andree, German geographer and journalist (founded journal Globus); Thomas Hughes, English politician and author (Tom Brown’s School Days); Alphonse Allais, French humorist and author (Pass the Bile); Arthur Rimbaud, French poet and adventurer (The Drunken Boat, Illuminations); John Dewey, American philosopher, educational theorist and writer (learn by doing); Robert Lochner, German journalist (help JFK with “Ich bin ein Berliner” speech); Dov Noy, Polish-born Jewish scholar of Jewish folklore; Pierre Laporte, Canadian journalist and politician (kidnapped and murdered while Vice-Premier of Quebec); Joe Minogue, British journalist (Guardian); Robert Craft, American conductor, writer and friend of Stravinsky; Art Buchwald, American columnist and author (Have I Ever Lied to You); Oskar Pastior, Romanian-born German writer (Oulipo); Emma Tennant, English writer (Pemberley: or, Pride and Prejudice Continued); Robert Pinsky, American poet and Poet Laureate of the United States; Elfriede Jelinek, Austrian novelist, poet, and playwright (Nobel Prize for Literature, 2004 -The Piano Teacher); David Profumo, English novelist (Bringing the House Down); and Lynn Flewelling, American fantasy author (Nightrunner series).

Any names familiar to you? There were three for me this week: John Dewey, Art Buchwald, and Emma Tennant. 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. Just before Hurricane Helen came through I posted chapter thirty-five to the two online subscription writing sites I use, and yesterday I posted chapter thirty-six. Since my last blog post  story has received another seventeen chapter reviews, bringing the total to 542.

Here’s another snippet:

Sear glared at Parvez. “Who were you talking with on the phone?”

“No one—at least no one you would know, Sayyid.”

Sear turned at the sound of feet approaching.

Wasim and Malik rushed through the door onto the roof. They hurried to Parvez’s side and grabbed his arms.

“Check his phone.” Sear pointed to Parvez’s pocket. He was talking with someone and won’t say who it is.”

“Hold him, Wasim.” Malik yanked out Parvez’s phone and accessed the call list. As he scanned the numbers, he relaxed. I recognize the last number called—it’s Tarik’s.” He glanced at Parvez. “Why were you talking with him?”

Parvez jerked his arm free from Wasim as he glared at Malik. “It is not any of your business, but I talk with Tarik from time to time—letting him know when there are strangers, especially foreigners, in this area.”

“You better be telling me the truth. I will ask Tarik the next time I see him.”

Parvez nodded. “Go ahead—he will vouch for me.”

Sear glanced at Wasim and Malik. “Let him go.”

“Do you still want me to cook?” Parvez stared at Parvez.

“Perhaps later. For now, just more tea and coffee.”

“As you wish, Sayyid.”

Sear turned and stepped through the doorway, down the stairs, and returned to the divan.

After frowning at Parvez, Wasim and Malik followed Sear.

Malik sat across from the others and patted his rumbling stomach. “What about food? I am hungry.”

“Do you think we can trust Parvez not to poison us?” Sear rubbed his chin.

“Of course.” Malik grinned. “I will stand next to him in the kitchen to ensure nothing untoward happens.”

In that case, I’m hungry, too.”

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

Randall’s Ramblings, September 22, 2024

The weather has warmed up again the past few days. Even so, our gardener was able to do some pruning so the bushes look less shaggy than they have. There’s still more to do, but he’ll wait until it cools off again.  In the meantime, we were at a store yesterday checking out some new bushes that flower later in the year, so it’s possible two or three of them will find their way into the flower bed by the front porch.

The past few weeks we’ve also been getting some preventative check-ups and vaccinations to ensure we’re as healthy as can be. Thank goodness for medical insurance or they would have cost a bundle.

“A writer is a writer not because she writes well and easily, because she has amazing talent, because everything she does is golden. In my view a writer is a writer because even when there is no hope, even when nothing you do shows any sign of promise, you keep writing anyway.” – Junot Diaz. 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 22nd, the fourth Sunday of the month. (Compliments of https://www.onthisday.com/birthdays/).

Philipp Nikodemus Frischlin, German philologist and poet; Barthold Heinrich Brockes, German poet; Philip Dormer Stanhope [Lord Chesterfield], English statesman and letter writer, responsible for introducing the Gregorian calendar; John Home, Scottish writer (Douglas); Quintin Craufurd, British author (friend of Marie Antoinette); Wilhelm Wattenbach, German historian, known for his work on the Middle Ages; Lodewijk van Deyssel, Dutch writer (A Love Affair); Asser B. Kleerekoper, Dutch journalist, translator, and politician (Second Chamber of Parliament- (SDAP), 1914-32); Arnoldus JC Krafft, Dutch theologist, historian, and geographer (Atlas of Netherlands Antilles); Frank Sullivan, American humorist (NYer Magazine); Babette Deutsch, American poet (Animal vegetable mineral); F R Boschvogel [Frans Ramon], Flemish writer (War of Worlds); Phyllis Hartnoll, English writer and editor; Dannie Abse, Welsh poet and writer; Rosamunde Pilcher, English novelist (The Shell Seekers); Fay Weldon [Franklin Birkinshaw], British feminist, novelist (Praxis; The Lives and Loves of a She-Devil), playwright, and screenwriter; Jim Keith, American conspiracy theorist and author; Diogo Mainardi, Brazilian writer and journalist; Quiara Alegría Hudes, American playwright, lyricist and producer (In the Heights, Water by the Spoonful); and Misha Green, American screen writer, director and producer (Lovecraft Country).

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 my primary focus. This week, I posted chapter thirty-four to the two online subscription writing sites I use. The story received another seven chapter reviews this week, bringing the total to 525.

Here’s another snippet:

Prince Hussein sat behind the desk and pulled out an iPad from a drawer. After logging in, he checked for new emails. There was one:

Hello, brother! I will be with you in two days. I hope you are planning a good party for me.

Prince Hussein grimaced as he typed. I hope so, too. But you better start following the plan.

Someone knocked on the door.

Now what? “Come in.”

Yusuf entered. “Excuse me, Prince Hussein. I wanted to give you an update on the attendees for Prince Sami’s party.”

“Hmm.” Prince Hussein frowned. “Go ahead.”

“Many of those in the diplomatic community are afraid to attend because of your connection to the Saudi royal family. They believe their attendance will indicate approval of what Saudi Arabia is doing in Yemen.”

“As expected. Continue.”

“China, Pakistan, and Malaysia have all accepted the invitation. I expect to hear from Russia and some others soon.”

Prince Hussein nodded. “What about local dignitaries?”

“So far, only the chief of police has accepted. But I’m still waiting for word from some of the cabinet. Of course, the prime minister declined, as expected.”

“What about the entertainment?”

Yusuf grinned. “Wazir and I have secured several young people who will perform as required.”

“That should please Prince Sami.” Wish he’d get over his predilection for public orgies. “Do what is necessary to give him a pleasing show—but not too graphic.” He waved a hand in dismissal.

“As you so order, Prince Hussein.” Yusuf bowed and left the office. He walked along the corridor and joined Wazir. “Everything is going to plan. If we are fortunate, Prince Sami will be indebted to us and grant us the favor we desire.”

Wazir nodded. “To be free of the tragedies befalling Yemen would be most pleasing. However, do you think things would be better for us in Saudi Arabia?”

“No way to know for sure. But if Ansar Allah finds out we are helping Prince Hussein, they will execute us after we are flogged to within an inch of our lives.” Yusuf’s body shook. “Then our bodies will be paraded through the streets as a warning to others.”

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

Randall’s Ramblings, September 15, 2024

This week was great as our son flew in for a few days from Washington, D.C. It was his first visit since we moved into our new home. Even our cats were pleased to see him. We can’t wait for his next visit!

The weather continued its cooler trend, 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, such as painting the garden shed.

“The secret of it all is to write… without waiting for a fit time or place.” – Walt Whitman. 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 15th, the third Sunday of the month. (Compliments of https://www.onthisday.com/birthdays/).

François VI, duc de La Rochefoucauld, French writer of maxims and memoirs; James Fenimore Cooper, 1st major American novelist (The Last of the Mohicans); Willem Josephus van Zeggelen, Dutch author; Heinrich von Treitschke, German historian and political writer; Frank Gannett, American newspaper publisher (Gannett); Sarat Chandra Chattopadhyay, Indian Bengali novelist (Devdas); Robert Benchley, American humorist (My 10 Years in a Quandary); Agatha Christie, English crime writer (Murder on the Orient Express, Mousetrap); Claude McKaye, Jamaican-American author (Songs of Jamaica, Banjo); J. Slauerhoff, Dutch poet, writer and ship’s doctor (El Dorado); Gerd Gaiser, German writer (Ship in the Mountain); George Kilpatrick, Canadian-British bible scholar (University of Oxford); Richard Baerlein, British horse racing journalist (Evening Standard 1947-57, Observer 1963-95, Guardian 1968-95), and author; Adolfo Bioy Casares, Argentine writer known for “The Invention of Morel” and collaborator with Borges; Nelson Gidding, American screenwriter (The Andromeda Strain); Lucebert [Jacobus Swaanswijk], Dutch poet, painter and cartoonist (Boozz, PC Hooft prize 1967); Norman [Richard] Spinrad, American sci-fi author (Child of Fortune); Chelsea Quinn Yarbro, American sci-fi author (Hotel Transylvania);Howard Waldrop, American sci-fi author (The Ugly Chickens); Oliver Stone, American Academy Award-winning screenwriter and film director (Wall Street; Born On The Fourth of July; Platoon; JFK); Hrant Dink, Turkish-Armenian journalist and newspaper editor (Agos); Rebecca Miller, American director and writer (The Ballad of Jack and Rose); Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, Nigerian writer (Half of a Yellow Sun); Sophie Dahl, English model and author; and Ingrid Bisu, Romanian-German actress and scriptwriter (Toni Erdmann).

Any names familiar to you? There were three for me this week: James Fenimore Cooper, Agatha Christie, and Oliver Stone. 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 my primary focus. This week, I posted chapter thirty-three to the two online subscription writing sites I use. The story received another sixteen chapter reviews this week, bringing the total to 518.

Here’s another snippet:

Prince Hussein peered through the branches of the date palms at the two young women. That Shatara is a feisty one. She would make someone a decent wife, but that would ruin my plans for her. He sipped from a glass of tea as he watched them.

“Excuse me, Prince Hussein.”

The prince turned and glanced at the young male servant.

The boy held a letter in a shaking hand. “This came for you a few minutes ago by a special rider.”

The prince took the envelope and waved a hand to dismiss the youth. What’s this? He tore open the letter.

My dear Prince Hussein,

Beware. There are eyes on you, which might make things difficult. Tread carefully so you keep below the National Security Bureau’s radar. Otherwise, you might face the same charge as Hamed Kamal Muhammad bin Haydara of being a destroyer of Islam, who was fortunate to avoid public execution.

My friends and I shall do our utmost to protect you and those around you but do not dally in your efforts to advance Saudi interests at the expense of Yemeni peace and prosperity.

A friend.

Prince Hussein tore the letter into small pieces before wadding them together and shoving it into his pocket. Who is this friend? What does he know about my real plans? He shook his head. I must convince Shatara to sign the document accusing her father of supporting Ansar Allah.

He poured the rest of his tea over the balcony and returned to his office.

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

Randall’s Ramblings, September 8, 2024

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

Randall’s Ramblings, September 1, 2024

Happy Labor Day to all my American and Canadian readers. Hope you have a good weekend!

We’re still dealing with temperatures just below record highs. While we did have a thunderstorm last night, there wasn’t any rain, just the thunder.

“Keep asking questions because people will always want to know the answer. Open with a question and don’t answer it until the end.” – Lee Child. 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 1st, the first Sunday of the month. (Compliments of https://www.onthisday.com/birthdays/).

Simon Fokke, Dutch book illustrator, engraver and etcher; John Nieuwenhuijzen, Dutch theologist (co-founder Foundation ‘t Nut); an Bake, Dutch linguist, literature professor, teacher, and critic; Lydia Sigourney (née Huntley), American poet and writer (How to Be Happy; Letter of Life), known as “the Sweet Singer of Hartford”; James Gordon Bennett, American newspaper publisher (New York Herald) ; Jacobus Jan Cremer, Dutch author (Overbetuwsche Novellen); Innokenty Annensky, Russian poet, critic and interpreter; Roger David Casement, Irish diplomat, nationalist (Easter uprising 1916), and poet; Henri Bourassa, French Canadian politician and publisher who opposed conscription; Ismar Elbogen, German-American rabbi and scholar (Encyclopedia Judaica); Edgar Rice Burroughs, American author (Tarzan of the Apes, Mars Saga); Blaise Cendrars [Frederic Sauser-Hall], Swiss poet and writer; Eleanor Hibbert (née Burford), British author of historical fiction, romance, and crime novels; Hubert Lampo, Flemish writer and essayist (Coming of Joachim Stiller); Willem Frederik Hermans, Dutch writer (Mandarins on Sulfuric Acid; The Darkroom of Damocles); Theo Joekes, Dutch journalist, writer, and politician (VVD); Arn Shein, American sports writer (editor The Daily Item 1949-74); Annie Ernaux (née Duchesne), French writer (Les Années (The Years); Nobel Prize in Literature, 2022); C. J. Cherryh, American sci-fi author (“Downbelow Station” “Cyteen”); Mustafa Balel, Turkish writer; Phil McGraw, American psychologist, author and TV personality (Dr. Phil, The Oprah Winfrey Show); and Timothy Zahn, American Hugo Award-winning sci-fi and fantasy author (Thrawn; Cobra Strike).

Any names familiar to you? There were two for me this week: Edgar Rice Burroughs and Phil McGraw. 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 received the following five-star review from Readers’ Favorite:

Everything comes at a price. And whatever eighty-year-old Walter Brown, one of the world’s richest men and the CEO of Diablo Corporation, a privately owned company, was after had a high price. Brown anonymously gives an ultimatum to the G7 from a secure Diablo Corps location in Antarctica. They either bend to his demands or he will wreak havoc in financial markets, the banking industry, and public infrastructure in the leading economies. He even launches a few attacks to demonstrate his resources’ might and the seriousness of his demands. Bedlam, a Quick Reaction Force, is tasked with tracking the mastermind behind the threats and neutralizing them before it’s too late. Armed with subtle clues from double-dealing Diablo Corps insiders, and with the help of the Scandinavian Protection Agency, will Bedlam save the world from the looming disaster? Find out in Randall Krzak’s Frozen Conquest.

If you are looking for an espionage and military thriller, check out Randall Krzak’s Frozen Conquest. Krzak slowly unfolds the storyline, treating readers to suspense, action, thrills, plot twists, and so much more. The vivid depictions of the scenes made reading this book feel like watching a Hollywood military and espionage movie. I was hurled into a world of hackers, operatives, blackmail, money, power, greed, and cold-blood murder. Krzak aggressively brings out the cast’s emotions and complex traits, allowing me to connect with them. Brown is one of those characters who quickly wins a place in your heart as a worthy villain. Business savvy, ruthless, narcissistic, daringly diabolical, and with an arrogance only rivaled by his riches, or perhaps his uncanny ability to turn the noblest of courses into a self-serving campaign, Brown does not seem to care about who he hurts along his way to grabbing more power and wealth.

My Work In Progress

My work on Mission: Yemen, Xavier Sear Thriller Book 2 is currently underway again. this week, I posted chapter thirty-one to the two online subscription writing sites I use. To date, the manuscript has received 497 chapter reviews.  In the meantime, here’s another snippet:

Bashari strode to a nearby table and lifted a set of keys before turning to Sear. “Who will be driving?”

“I will. Any problems if I add another dent or two to the Noah?” He laughed.

Bashari smiled. “If it helps you recover my daughter, you may do what you like with the vehicle.”

“As soon as we collect our belongings from the hotel, we’ll change locations.” Sear pulled a piece of paper from his pocket. “Here’s my satellite phone number. I’ll be back in touch as soon as possible.”

Bashari took the paper. “May Allah, in his infinite wisdom, guide you along the correct path.”

Sear nodded as he turned and followed the servant from the room, Malik and Wasim bringing up the rear.

Back at the vehicles, Sear toss the keys to the Hilux to Malik and unlocked the Noah’s doors. “Meet you at the hotel.”

Wasim climbed in beside Wasim. “Do you think it’s safe to move into Bashari’s brother-in-law’s home?”

“Yeah.” Sear started the engine and engaged the clutch. With a lurch, the Noah edged forward behind the Hilux. “We don’t have a choice. While Dabir seems nice enough on the surface, I’m picking something up about him I don’t like.” Sear shook his head. “I might be wrong, but I always trust my gut feelings.”

The servant waved the vehicles into the street.

Sear traced their route back to the hotel, following Malik.

They parked behind the hotel and entered through a rear door.

Dabir stood in his customary position behind the check-in counter. “Good day, Sayyid. Did you meet with Sayyid Bashari?”

“Yeah.” Sear nodded. “He’s offered us a place to stay, so we’re going to move. I’ll be spending more time with Bashari so this’ll cut down travel time.”

“I … see.” Dabir frowned. “But the hotel isn’t far away, so why not remain here?”

“Doesn’t matter—this is my choice.” Sear’s voice hardened. “I always prefer remaining in more private surroundings. Even though there aren’t many occupants in the hotel at the moment, this could change.”

“Oh, okay.” Dabir replaced his frown with a smile. “Do you require any assistance in packing?”

Sear shook his head. “No, since I didn’t bring much with me. Keep my room for me in case I change my mind.”

“Yes, Sayyid.”

Sear, Malik, and Wasim headed up the stairs and collected their meager belongings. Before he left the room, Sear threaded his belt through the holster holding the  SIG Sauer and pulled his shirttail over it. He shoved the two spare magazines into a back pocket. Picking up his bag, he headed back to reception.

Wasim and Malik hovered near the check-in desk, each holding a small duffle bag.

Sear nodded and continued toward the back door with the brothers following and Dabir traipsing along.

Sear, Wasim, and Malik climbed into the Noah, with Sear once again driving. They waved to Dabir as they departed.

A heavyset man dressed in a black thobe and wearing a white dishdasha on his head stepped out of the shadows. Wiping the perspiration from his head, he stopped by Dabir. “So, the infidel has departed. When will he return?”

Dabir turned to the man. “Salam alaikum, Badr. He is moving to a property controlled by Bashari but asked me to keep his room.”

Badr nodded. “Wa alaykum as-salam. Have you notified the others yet?”

“I shall do that now.” Dabir pulled out his cell phone and punched in a text. Infidel relocating. Will have someone keep an eye on him as he can’t get too close to the truth.

He showed the text to Badr before hitting send.

Badr grunted. “When we were with the infidel during the air attack, he never gave an indication he recognized any of us. Let us hope it remains that way.”

“Agreed.” Dabir grinned. “If he gets in the way, he will join his brethren.”

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