Peasant Cuisine: Eat like a Peasant to live like a Lord, Series #1

Live to One Hundred and One – Eat like a Peasant to live like a Lord.

Eat like a peasant in Sardinia, Russia or Japan, people who are the healthiest around the world.

Peasant Cuise

What is peasant cuisine? One definition is those dishes specific to a particular culture made from accessible and inexpensive ingredients. Focusing on ‘living only off what you can grow’, the traditional peasant diet was therefore predominantly plant-based, with wholegrains (rice, barley, oats, rye) and vegetables such as potatoes being the main source of nutrition, and legumes providing the primary source of protein.

My first foray into this subject is food from Russia and Ukraine. I want to start with a traditional Russian appetizer called zakushi. The plural form of the word for appetizers is zakuski, which loosely translates as “little bites” and they are meant to soften the effects of the iced vodka or other strong potables they are served with.

The selection can be simple or it can be a real spread of salads and small plates and the tradition dates back to the czars’ tables of the 18th century. These Russian hors d’oeuvres were often served to standing guests outside the main dining room, usually buffet style or passed by waiters.

Zakuski are often described as Russia’s answer to tapas. Zakuski are often described as Russia’s answer to tapas — a little bite to have with your drink. Traditionally, when you welcome guests in from the cold (whether from the Moscow streets, or from the hundreds of miles it takes to travel to a country estate), you give them a warming shot of vodka. And to protect your stomach and palate from the harsh vodka, you quickly follow it with a bite of zakuski.

Drink vodka, eat pickles, repeat. Here is an interesting article

Salads, caviars, mushrooms, as well as various kinds of vodkas were standards . While this remains unchanged, a more modern approach is take some hearty dark sour rye bread (much more on that later), add some a mix of purchased smoked fish, caviar, hard cheeses and salamis, and a homemade bean salad, eggplant caviar, brined mushrooms, beets, tomatoes, watermelon, and bread or pastry pockets filled with meat, potato or cabbage.

This website has a nice list of some of them.

But you say, this is about peasant food, not kings.
(more…)

The Truth About the CIA, Series #2

This is from an article on the Truman Library.gov
https://www.trumanlibrary.gov/education/presidential-inquiries/establishment-cia

The CIA evokes images of clandestine activity, spies hiding in corners and covert overthrow of unfriendly government regimes. However, when Truman established the organization in 1947, he envisioned something much different — a sort of daily newspaper, informing him of developments around the world that could impact American policy. Yet even during Truman’s own presidency, the CIA did evolve to become much more than a news agency for the President as covert operations began in earnest early in the agency’s history.


The CIA grew out of a wartime agency, the Office of Strategic Services (OSS), which was established to help win World War II. From the onset, the OSS was intended to be a temporary agency with plans to dissolve it upon the end of the War. However, as tensions grew with the Soviet Union, many within the OSS were determined to keep it intact. By the end of the war, it was clear a Cold War was emerging, and Americans were “behind the game” with intelligence gathering, unlike the Russians, who’d been engaging in covert operations for years. (more…)

Why Easter Bunnies and Pretty Eggs?

 

Most people know that there are no stories in the Bible about bunnies. No long-eared, short-tailed creatures who deliver decorated eggs to well-behaved children on Easter Sunday. Or is there mention of Easter eggs and Easter baskets filled with candy.

However, I came across some intriguing stories. 

One of my Own

Interestingly, my mother was not religious, and we had very limited resources (we were very poor). However, she always ensured that my two little sisters and I had new Easter outfits. No matter what. The same at Christmas. A tree and gifts. No matter what. 

Now my memory of the outfits really tickle me. I have photos of the three of us lined up and showing off our new little patent baby Jane shoes and white socks with frilly cuffs. Silky gloves, new dresses and coats, and our special Easter bonnets. 

We got our Easter basket, and she dressed us up, and she took us for a walk in the town to show off her daughters. 

Yeah, I certainly have a lot of mixed emotions about my mother only celebrating consumption instead of a day embracing the expansion of the human spirit. 

But we sure looked cute.

Mary Magdalene  (more…)

Why is the Date of Easter Tied to the Moon?

In 2022, Easter Sunday falls on Apr. 17.  

In 2021 it was Apr. 4; in 2020, it was Apr. 12, and in 2019 it was Apr. 21.  

I don’t know about you, but that is quite a range for a special day. It seems Easter’s date fluctuates wildly. 

So I wanted to know why Easter moves around.

Well, believe it or not, it found it all has to do with the Moon.

Easter occurs on the first Sunday after the “Paschal Full Moon.” In simple terms, that is the first full Moon immediately following the Spring Equinox. 

However, that’s not the whole story because Easter isn’t based on the actual Moon or equinox date! 

Confused yet? (more…)

The Truth About the CIA, Series #1

President Truman created the CIA. He explained that it was solely an attempt to consolidate intelligence from many different intelligence agencies.

But in the 1970s, he told his biographer, Merle Miller:

“I needed … the President needed at that time a central organization that would bring all the various intelligence reports we were getting in those days, and there must have been a dozen of them, maybe more, bring them all into one organization so that the President would get one report on what was going on in various parts of the world. Now that made sense, and that’s why I went ahead and set up what they called the Central Intelligence Agency. (more…)

Moonstruck

Hello, Fans.

There was not a clear winner with the last raffle. So to everyone who opens this newsletter——the first ten people who email me will win a prize. Find out what you have won. read@booksbyphoenix.com

I will have a new contest with new prizes shortly.

Now, you all are going to think I’m stuck on the moon. Well, yes I am, but Earthlings, don’t you also want to know how many phases of the moon there are?

Hah! I knew it! 

The answer is eight: New moon, Waxing Crescent, First Quarter, Waxing Gibbous, Full moon, Waning Gibbous, Last Quarter, and finally Waning Crescent. The moon wanes and waxes, and so much so that we sometimes we can’t even see it.

In the evening of Thursday, June 24—just after sunset—look towards the southeast to watch the full Moon rise gently above the horizon. There, it will appear large and golden hued.  It is the last full Moon of spring and the first of summer and is called the Strawberry Moon. (more…)

Your Next Good Read

What is a good read? Great question, but there’s no easy answer! Which is true for most great questions.

The simplest answer is “are they engaged enough to want to know what happens next instead of doing one of the 100 other interesting things in their lives they don’t have enough time for.”  good book is one that makes the reader feel. It takes the reader on a compelling journey.

SHAKTI and THE PRINCE

Aliens on Earth?

Sumerian clay tablets say they came from space, inhabited Earth & reigned as gods. The tablets tell who they were, how they lived & their exploits in ruling the planet.

Who did they rule over?

If aliens lived here, did they ever leave?

https://geni.us/xatw

A WHISPER FROM EDEN

Clayton risks his life & reputation searching for the fabled Mandan tribe. What he finds is:

A strange culture

Adventure

A beautiful girl

Magic

And a promise from the gods in ancient times to return if the people are ever in peril.

Will it be kept?

tps://geni.us/8ZU9B

TAKE ME WITH YOU

Ally’s life is boring until she falls hopelessly in love with the hero in a novel. That’s bad enough, but he gets into trouble and she is desperate to warn him.

Don’t be silly, Ally. To travel in time to 1277 Medieval England isn’t possible.

Forget it.

https://geni.us/fz6Z

LEON’S LAIR

Who is Leon? What is he?

“You will get very attached to the characters. I am not ready to let them go!”

“A Paranormal Thrill Ride! If you are looking for an adventure in the palm of your hand this book is a MUST read.”

“A fun and lighthearted read.”

https://geni.us/LFfZdGp

RANDOM AMUSEMENTS

SHORT IS SWEET: “A Drink of Water” Meet Truman, a black man slaving on the railroad. Will he get free of this backbreaking work?

And read:

“My Beloved Ghost in the Amazon”

“Snowbank”

“Our Frozen World”

“Proof That Fairies Exist”

And more

https://geni.us/7KhF

 

 

Silliness

Is this cat silly or what? So I guess my message to you is to not take life or yourself too seriously. There is a child within us all and it is so important to let fun and frivolity have a place even if we are adults with adult responsibilities. Life is far too short to take things too seriously.

One time I was fussing about some problem to a friend and he said just start laughing.

“Laugh! You are kidding. I can’t do that. I’m too upset. ”

He said no, just laugh.Force it and it will come. So, I tried and tried and finally just the goofiness of it made me laugh.

He said, “There. Always do that when you have an upset or problem. And watch what happens to the problem.

AND it’s time for a new raffle.And I found some silly prizes (and serious ones, too).

SWEEPSTAKES PAGE – Prizes and Free Stuff

WINNERS OF THE FEBRUARY CONTEST:
Grand Prize: Lysette L.
Don’t forget everyone won a free ebook, Random Amusements. Email me and I will have the ebook sent to you. read@booksbyphoenix.com
(If you don’t have a Kindle, you can get a free app for your device.)

For the runners up, I chose five.
Lisa P.
Judy C.
Sherry S.
Alan A.
Clemencio
Choose your gift at https://fictionbyphoenix.com/sweepstakes-prizes-and-free-stuff/ 

and email me at read@booksbyphoenix.com with your choice and address. I will have Amazon send it to you.
Good Luck,
Love,
Lee Jordan

Some New Data About Covid

 

 

 

Hello lovely people!  This is my favorite time of the year. I hope it finds you all well and looking forward to a much better year. (This one was pretty icky .. right?

I found this poem:

Help Wanted

Timothy Tocher

Santa needs new reindeer.
The first bunch has grown old.
Dasher has arthritis;
Comet hates the cold.
Prancer’s sick of staring
at Dancer’s big behind.
Cupid married Blitzen
and Donder lost his mind.
Dancer’s mad at Vixen
for stepping on his toes.
Vixen’s being thrown out—
she laughed at Rudolph’s nose.
If you are a reindeer
we hope you will apply.
There is just one tricky part:
You must know how to fly.

However, at this usual time of joy and festivities, the Covid situation is clouding the life of so many people. Here is some hopeful information:
The CDC said that the survival rate of the virus is 99 plus %. Not only that, but the death rates are inflated to keep us all in fear.  Google this: fraudulent death claims for Covid, The entire page and the next page – articles and so-called fact checkers that say these claims are false – the death tolls are accurate.

Really? The truth is the claims are true: CDC REPORTS Covid is RARELY the cause of death. Check this link out and don’t believe what Big Tech and the Media are telling you.

CDC Reveals Hospitals Counted Heart Attacks as COVID 19 Deaths Oct 27th, 2020

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WjX1pfFxjmc&feature=emb_logo

Stay Well,

Love,

Lee

Blue Zones

What are Blue Zones?

“Blue Zone” is a  term given to geographic regions that are home to some of the world’s oldest people.

It is by the author Dan Buettner, who was studying areas of the world in which people live exceptionally long lives.

They are called Blue Zones because when Buettner and his colleagues were searching for these areas, they drew blue circles around them on a map.

In his book called The Blue Zones, Buettner described five known Blue Zones:

https://amzn.to/3jZuQGm

I have become fascinated with the food from at least two of these areas: Icaria and Sardinia.

  • Icaria (Greece): Icaria is an island in Greece where people eat a Mediterranean diet rich in olive oil, red wine and homegrown vegetables.
  • Ogliastra, Sardinia (Italy): The Ogliastra region of Sardinia is home to some of the oldest men in the world. They live in mountainous regions where they typically work on farms and drink lots of red wine.
  • Okinawa (Japan): Okinawa is home to the world’s oldest women, who eat a lot of soy-based foods and practice tai chi, a meditative form of exercise.
  • Nicoya Peninsula (Costa Rica): The Nicoyan diet is based around beans and corn tortillas. The people of this area regularly perform physical jobs into old age and have a sense of life purpose known as “plan de vida.”
  • The Seventh-day Adventists in Loma Linda, California (USA): The Seventh-day Adventists are a very religious group of people. They’re strict vegetarians and live in tight-knit communities.

https://www.bluezones.com/2015/04/the-blue-zones-solution-secrets-of-the-worlds-healthiest-people-9-questions-for-dan-buettner/

How to Make Soup from Scratch

I LOVE SOUP! It’s so creative to make soup from scratch, like building something. I love the taste so much I rarely get canned soup anymore.

The thing is: No recipes needed. Just take what miscellaneous vegetables you have in the crisper or in the freezer. Nearly any vegetables will make tasty soup: sweet potato, zucchini, squash, turnip, tomato, carrots, celery, mushrooms, onions, leeks, cabbage, kale, chard, potatoes, rutabaga, celeriac, cauliflower, broccoli, peas, green bean, you name it..

However, the secret for most soups and stews, even many sauces, is to  start with what is called Aromatics. An Aromatic is any food item that enhances the flavor or aroma of a dish. Under this definition, Aromatics would include, herbs, spices, vegetables, citrus fruit, wine, and vinegar, anything that helps boost flavor.

However, the term Aromatics also has a more specific definition. When a cook says “Aromatics,” they usually mean a mix of vegetables, herbs and spices added to stock, soup or a sauce, cooked in a bit of fat or oil. These veggie, herbs, and spices gives the dish a foundation, taking it from boring to fantastic.

image of miripoix

The Fresh have mirepoix: onion, carrot and celery. The Germans have suppengrun: carrot celeriac (a weird looking root) and leeks.

Celeriac

Celeriac Root

The Spanish have sofrito: onion, garlic and tomatoes. The Italian version is sofritto and might include garlic, parsley, and it might be cooked in butter instead of olive oil. Many Latin American countries often include garlic, bell peppers, tomatoes, paprika, and other ingredients. The Cajun version is onion, celery and green peppers.

I start with Start with a large stew pot. I love my stainless steel Cuisinart Chef’s Classic 12-Quart Stockpot with Cover

For my purpose of making soup or stew, I chop the onion, carrot and celery and garlic, sauté under low heat right in the stew pot, add some herbs or spices. Mainstay spices are bay leaf, thyme, basil. Then if you want some meat or poultry, chop it up and add it. Cook until almost done. Add some other vegetables and add some broth. I usually cheat and buy ready-made boxes of broth, vegetable, beef, or chicken.

Want a creamed soup? Check out this website article: How to Make Homemade Cream of Anything Soup.

How to Make Homemade Cream of Anything Soup

 

How about a yummy Cabbage, Sausage and Potato soup?

Cabbage, Sausage, Potato Soup

I made this tonight and Gary just loved it!

You can copy and paste this to a Word doc and print it.

Start with a lb of ground sweet Italian sausage. If your meat market does not have that, then get the links of sweet Italian sausage and take off the skins

Sauté the sausage in a couple tbs. of olive oil on medium heat until it is in chunks and cooked through (no pink). You don’t want it browned, just cooked. Put on a plate and set aside.

While the meat was cooking, I slices two stalks of leeks, just the white and light green parts. Put in a bowl. Scrub and take off the ends of 3 carrots and dice. (Sometimes recipes say peel the carrots, but I think there are a lot of vitamins in the peel. Just scrub them) Put those in the bowl. Dice up two stalks of celery and add to the bowl.

After you have removed the sausage, you may have to add a little more olive oil. Dump the bowl of vegetables in the pot. Sauté medium heat for about 5 minutes, stirring occasionally. You just want to sweat the vegetables, which means gentle heating of vegetables in a little oil or butter, with frequent stirring and turning to ensure that any emitted liquid will evaporate. Sweating usually results in tender, sometimes translucent, pieces.

While that is cooking, slice up a little over half of a head of cabbage. Then chop that up into bite sized pieces. Dice up about 3 cloves of garlic. (I love garlic, so I used 5)

Add that to the pot and sauté for another five minutes, stirring occasionally.

Now add 2 cartons of chicken broth, 32 fl. oz. each. That comes to 8 cups.

Scrub three large russet potatoes and chop with the skin into bite size pieces. (Again, I like the peels for added vitamins.) Add to the pot.

Add 1 tbs of Italian seasoning, and two bay leaves.

Add the cooked sausage.

Stir it all around and simmer with a cover until the potatoes are done. About 15 to 20 minutes.

Take out the bay leaf. Add salt and ground black pepper to taste. Depending on how seasoned your sausage is, feel free to stir in extra tbs. of Italian seasoning if you think it needs some extra flavor.

Add a pinch of crushed red pepper flakes. It helps bring out the flavors.

I served this in big bowls with large hunks of a whole wheat round of rosemary and olive oil bread.

Serve warm. Or refrigerate in sealed containers for up to 3 days, or freeze for up to 3 months.

 

What is Art?

Gary and I do a lot of beta reading, which is reading a novel manuscript and giving feedback. However nice it for an author get the comment, “I really like it,” that is not really very helpful. The best beta readers also give advice on how to improve the story.

You can find us at this link: https://www.fiverr.com/leejordan413/pro-beta-read-your-fiction-manuscript-with-lots-of-love

One of the comments I make often in my analysis has to to do with emotional impact. So many times the story fails to do this. So I usually explain what could be done to do that.

Before doing that I usually say this:

What is Art?

This is the best definition of art I have ever seen. It is by L. Ron Hubbard from a Book Called What is Art?

He says it is: sufficient technical expertise to create an emotional impact.

A painting can be technically perfect and yet not elicit a response from the viewer. Whereas, another may have technical flaws, but have people wanting to gaze at it for hours.

A reader wants to be moved in some way, drawn in, engaged. That defines why a person likes to read a story.

Here is an example: Show don’t tell. Yeah. That’s a good rule. If your character is about to enter a forbidden forest, one he has been told is enchanted and dangerous, you should not say: Peter was scared. That does not do it. Instead you describe the setting and hero’s reaction in a way that creates in the reader tension and feeling of terror. Remember the mines of Moria?

However, you don’t want to wear your reader out by keeping him in terror for pages! Peter has a win and beats the monster and thinks maybe he may find and save the damsel. Then he finds her, saves her (Yay!) and then has to battle another monster. He makes progress toward his goal of … saving Middle Earth … or something. (Yay!)

In other words, you are manipulating the emotions of the reader. The reader wants that. However, the reader also wants you to get him/her willing to go along for the ride.

That is your job. That’s where the technical expertise comes in. Decide how you want your reader to respond emotionally to your story.

Here is an example: Show don’t tell. Yeah. That’s a good rule. If your character is about to enter a forbidden forest, one he has been told is enchanted and dangerous, you should not say: Peter was scared. That does not do it. Instead you describe the setting and hero’s reaction in a way that creates in the reader tension and feeling of terror. Remember the mines of Moria?

However, you don’t want to wear your reader out by keeping him in terror for pages! Peter has a win and beats the monster and thinks maybe he may find and save the damsel. Then he finds her, saves her (Yay!) and then has to battle another monster. He makes progress toward his goal of … saving Middle Earth … or something. (Yay!)

In other words, you are manipulating the emotions of the reader. The reader wants that. However, the reader also wants you to get him/her willing to go along for the ride.

That is your job. That’s where the technical expertise comes in. Decide how you want your reader to respond emotionally to your story.

Here a link to the book:

What is Art on Amazon.com

Pantsing vs. Outlining

This can be called Plotter vs. Pantser. Basically, it means writing by the seat of your pants, flying along, and letting the muse lead you. For many writers, this can be the creative part where you discover your story. You are in your natural writing state, letting the ideas and words flow out of you. Wonderful feeling UNTIL … you get stuck. That is when you wonder – A writer is thinking about her writing - pants vs. outlining

One time some years ago, I had no idea what to write. So I said to heck with it and put my fingers on the keys and typed the first thing that came to my head. “The young boy entered the general store carrying a pail of water.” 

Okay, now what?

A shot rang out, and he slid across the floor, lying in a pool of blood.

Good grief. Who would shoot a boy?

I kept asking myself what if such and such. And then asked why? Well, what if … Soon I had over one hundred pages. 

Well into ten chapters, I hit the wall. I had NO IDEA where this story was going or even what it was about. 

So I learned the hard lesson of pantsing vs. outlining. I did an outline and had to rewrite many, many pages. 

The book turned into the very complex plot of A Whisper from Eden. So complex that it would have been impossible to write it without a very careful outline and what I called a thread map. 

Outlining is about making sure that each scene works to keep the plot moving forward. That takes planning. 

What does that mean, moving the story forward

Move the Plot = Change the Plot

Sometimes writers get hung up believing they’re moving the plot when they’re not. That is because, ironically, moving the plot doesn’t necessarily require movement. Just because characters are running around doing lots of stuff in any given scene does not automatically mean that scene is moving the plot.

Moving the plot simply means changing the plot.

A scene that moves the plot is a scene that creates forward momentum by leaving the story different at its end than it was at the beginning.

Here’s a great article. 

https://www.helpingwritersbecomeauthors.com/mean-move-plot/

 But remember this: whether you pants or outline, you have to end up with a good story that goes beyond a bunch of stuff that happened to your interesting characters. The main thing is to keep it simple. Forget about the three-act method. The purpose of an outline is to make sure you keep all the events of the story on track and moving it forward, scene by scene.

Here is a good article: 8 Steps to Writing a Perfect Scene—Every Time

“If you can’t identify the purpose for your scene, throw it out and come up with one that works.”

https://jerryjenkins.com/8-steps-writing-perfect-scene-every-time/

Found Some Great Books Lately – Several Book Reviews


How many  reasons are there that a person likes a book enough to blog about it? Excitement, thrills? Yes.
The hero is an American intelligence operative who, despite wanting to retire to a “normal” life, stumbles upon the biggest case of his career. Great protagonist? Check. He eventually comes to call himself Pilgrim. as he is quickly in the middle of an international manhunt moving through the United Kingdom, France, Saudi Arabia, and Afghanistan and a biological threat against the U.S. The characters are skillfully brought to life in this action-packed worldwide adventure, and Pilgrim is a quick-witted and thoroughly fascinating protagonist.

SEE IT HERE ON AMAZON

“I Am Pilgrim is simply one of the best suspense novels I’ve read in a long time.” —David Baldacci, #1 New York Times bestselling author

“A big, breathless tale of nonstop suspense.” —Janet Maslin, The New York Times

“The pages fly by ferociously fast. Simply unputdownable.” —Booklist

This is 180 degrees of I am Pilgrim.

When Kendra first visits her ailing grandmother, Ella has only one request: that Kendra writes her story down, before she forgets. It is more than a memoir of Kendra’s grandmother. The breathtaking prose takes you on a journey that you will cherish.

In 1937, seventeen-year-old Ella’s life changes forever when she is sent to spend the summer on the beautiful Île de Ré and meets the charismatic, creative Christophe. They spend the summer together, exploring the island’s sandy beaches and crystal-clear waters, and, for the first time in her life, Ella feels truly free.

But the outbreak of war casts everything in a new light. Ella is forced to return to Scotland, where she volunteers for the war effort alongside the dashing Angus. In this new world, Ella feels herself drifting further and further from who she was on the Île de Ré. Can she ever find her way back? And does she want to?

From the windswept Île de Ré to the rugged hills of Scotland, Sea of Memories is a spellbinding journey about the power of memory, love and second chances.

SEE IT HERE ON AMAZON

From the first book, Then She Was Gone, a prequel to the whole series, I fell in love with the prose, the characters, and the interesting plotting. I WAS HOOKED! And am now on Jack The Giant Killer

Best Mystery-Thriller eBook of the Year — Independent Publisher Book Awards 2018
Winner Best Thriller — National Indie Excellence Awards 2018
Winner Best Thriller — Silver Falchion Award 2018
Finalist eBook Fiction — Indie Book Awards 2018
Silver Medal Suspense — Reader’s Favorite Book Awards 2018
Voted Most Loved Cover — NetGalley Readers

Christopher Greyson’s novels weave tales full of mystery, action and suspense with laugh-out-loud humor and sizzling romance. His unique stories and no-nonsense style of writing will take you on a page-turning roller coaster ride of emotions right to the very end.

Ten years ago, four people were brutally murdered—one girl lived. No one believes her story. The police think she’s crazy. Her therapist thinks she’s suicidal. Everyone else thinks she’s a dangerous drunk. They’re all right—but did she see the killer?As the anniversary of the murders approaches, Faith Winters is released from the psychiatric hospital and yanked back to the last spot on earth she wants to be—her hometown where the slayings took place. Wracked by the lingering echoes of survivor’s guilt, Faith spirals into a black hole of alcoholism and wanton self-destruction. Finding no solace at the bottom of a bottle, Faith decides to track down her sister’s killer—only to discover that she’s the one being hunted.

And Then She Was Gone (Prequel)
Girl Jacked
Jack Knifed
Jacks Are Wild
Jack and the Giant Killer
Data Jack
Jack of Hearts
Jack Frost 

SEE IT ON AMAZON HERE

 

 

 

Our Frozen World – Flash Fiction

OUR FROZEN WORLD

Image for flash fiction story Our Frozen World

I KNEW ABOUT ICE. I saw the giant glaciers moving slowly forward, destroying anything in their paths.

I knew about snow. It had covered our northern forest home, this time not leaving much alive except us. Not even wolves now. I gazed ahead at the frozen land. White flowed to the horizon, only the tops of trees showed. The freezing air and whipping wind burned my eyes, my nose, and my throat as I tried to breathe. Frost hung on my eyelids.

Our group of one hundred frozen souls trudged through it on our way east.

So many animals had disappeared. The mastodon, most birds, small rodents, rabbits, and some of the larger cats. Where did they all go? Did they die, or did they find a better place, a place without ice and snow? (more…)

A Short Story for You

MY BELOVED GHOST IN THE AMAZON

A Short Story

by Phoenix

A modern take on Green Mansions: A Romance of the Tropical Forest by William Henry Hudson, (1904)

“My Beloved Ghost in the Amazon” has a haunting new twist and a very different ending.

****

 

I was hopelessly lost.

Each way I turned, it all looked the same. I was sure the jungle was out to get me; I was certain it finally had me in its clutches. The rainforest was wet and oozy, smelling of decayed leaves and who knew what else. Every second it got thicker and more humid. Could it get any worse? Well, it did; it started to rain, lightly at first, and then within minutes, lightning struck. Thunder boomed and rain fell as if I was under Niagara Falls. I was soaked instantly and blinded by the downpour. It sounded like drums as it hit the wide leaves of plants, beating a raucous throb. I knew I had to get my wits about me because I was lost and starving and probably not the only hungry creature roaming in this hell. What I needed first was shelter. I crawled under a clump of broad philodendrons, wrapped my arms around myself, and huddled.

And waited.

What happened next, I didn’t see coming. Even if I had, would I have done anything differently? I can only say now, in retrospect, no.

How did I become lost in the rainforest, shivering and wet, waiting to be a meal for some wild predator? It started with a frantic call on my satellite phone from the owner of the company, Mr. Richards.

My name is Jake Priestly. The reason I was here in the middle of the Amazon was not because I was a nature lover, far from it. I’m the foreman for a logging company. The work is hard and long and filled with spreadsheets and quotas. My company was clearing this parcel of land in the Amazon basin by clear-cutting the trees, with the plan to sell the timber and then sell the land at a monstrous premium to a company for raising cattle.

The project to log and clear this area was way behind schedule. We had to first deal with the local tribes who lived on the land, force them to relocate (I don’t even want to go into how difficult that was), create a road through the dense jungle, and clear an area for our machines and camp. Getting the permits had taken months, and the local tribes had blocked us at every turn. Unfortunately for them, they didn’t have any political power, so they were displaced in favor of cattle grazing. The politicians made a show of caring, dragging their feet, and looking for a little graft.

I’m a big man physically and have always taken tough jobs in stride. Have all my life. I usually take pride in that, but this one made me want to quit and find something else to do. It was a nightmare.

Every step of the way, we hit problems and delays. And my assistant foreman, Carl, gave me grief all along the way. I hated all of his smirks and eye rolls and his reminders that Richards was pissed with me. Also, with his apparent lack of concern with the delays, it was obvious to me he was happy that the job was not going well at all. He wanted my job, and he most likely would get it.

Richards yelled all of the time, saying I was wasting time and I was costing him a fortune. In no uncertain terms he told me I was about to be fired if the work didn’t start immediately. He needed those trees cut and cut now.

Of course, from his office desk in Denver, he had no idea what was involved. We had gotten the savages off the land. We had made a road through nasty, thick jungle. We finally had a campsite. Our equipment had just arrived. We were ready to clear-cut.

Clear-cutting is not selective. Loggers are interested in all types of wood and therefore cut all of the trees down, thus clearing the forest. Sale of the timber is a gold mine. But more so the sale of the land itself. In some parts of the Brazilian Amazon, cleared rainforest land can be worth more than eight times that of land with standing forest. Clearing a forest for cattle pasture is the cheapest and easiest way to establish an informal claim to land, which gives a company the right to sell it.

To clear the land quickly, we were going to make use of some wild-looking machines that would give trees nightmares—a walking machine. Over the past decades, the use of the walking machine leaped from the imagination of science fiction to the world of practical reality.

My company had leased three of the six-legged Timberjack walking machines that can negotiate any raw territory, using a computer to control the timing and the rhythm needed to work the legs to keep the machine balanced. It could not only cut down a tree in seconds but also had a stripper on the logging head that cleaned all the branches and bark of the tree. It could even cut the logs to size for easy loading.

The walking machine adapts automatically to the forest floor. Moving on two to six articulated legs, the harvester advances forward and backward, sideways and diagonally. It can also turn in place and step over obstacles.

It looks like a monstrous spider. Or a scorpion. This is a real machine rented to movie sets.

Well, gone were the days of hard-earned lumber, where felling a tree took sweat and grit. Now, thanks to advances in technology, a single Timberjack, all from a comfortable, air-conditioned seated position, could harvest large swaths of forest in a fraction of the time.

The walking machines had just arrived along with huge logging trucks and log loaders. We had the men and we had the machines to create a near continuous flow of logs being sent to mills. This assembly line was all set in place.

Today was Friday. Work would begin on Monday. Finally.

I was sweating so hard my shirt was wet as I listened to Mr. Richards yell at me. I was tired. It was so damned hot. When he finally hung up, I turned it off, set it down and pushed it away from me. I was rejecting the stupid machine with its ringing that tormented my life. Just leave me alone.

I walked to the edge of the clearing.

Why was I doing this? It felt like some kind of torture, all for the need of a buck.

As I stood there, not seeing anything and thinking, So fire me. Fine. Then I can go home and forget this disgusting place, when a flash of color got my attention. A tiny bird’s iridescent feathers caught the sunlight as it darted right, left, up, down and then stopped in midair, looking straight at me. It hovered, as if sizing me up, as if it was curious about the human watching it, its wings humming and fluttering one hundred times a second.

I felt drawn to it. I held out my hand. It landed on my thumb and tilted its head, studying me. I felt huge and clumsy, like a big lumbering ox compared to the beautiful, fragile creature. I had a feeling of wonder that this little bird was taking a few moments to notice me and acknowledge that I was there. Crazy, really, but I wanted it to like me and felt a small loss when it lost interest and darted off again to work on another blossom.

I was suddenly aware of all my pain and worry, my exhaustion, and the complete uselessness of my work, the only purpose being to make a dollar. There was a creature who didn’t find it a chore to find its daily meal. It made me feel as if I could be free of the yoke I wore. And why not? Well, I answered myself right away; I had to make a living just like everyone else. If only life were as simple as it seemed to be for that tiny beautiful bird. It was bursting with joy in its work, competent in knowing exactly where it would find its reward in the sweet juice of flowers, an exactness and playfulness as it dipped its needlelike bill quickly into each blossom one at a time, rapid fire, instantly drawing nectar and moving on to the next. Wouldn’t it be terrific to feel like that?

And then, without a second of hesitation, it flew into the forest. I felt such disappointment to have it go. I stood at the edge of the rainforest in the Amazon, wanting to watch it a little longer. What I really needed instead of tracking a bird into the forest was sleep. We had a makeshift camp set up with trailers run by generators. So we had some comforts, but we had no running water. Showers were nonexistent. My shirt was plastered to my body with sweat, and I actually would have killed for a cold shower. I felt itchy all over and had a case of mild diarrhea causing stomach cramps. I was exhausted from all the tension of getting everything ready for the job to begin.

Well, we were ready, but I was not. My nerves were frayed. I could not make myself turn around and go back to the camp. The hummingbird had my attention. I needed to find my cot and take a nap. Yet I stared at the spot in the darkness of the forest where it flew. I needed to recheck that everything was ready to go for our job; nothing could be left to chance. If anything went wrong again, I was unemployed. That was for sure, but on an impulse, instead I followed the bird.

I pushed my way into the dense forest, watching it flit from one flowering shrub to another. It was amazing how much energy it must have been expending, but never tiring. It moved into shadow and I lost sight of it. I followed toward the shadows, moving slowly into the trees, trees that would be gone in a few weeks, land flattened and cleared, ready to be plowed. Not a limb would be left.

There it was again, busy and industrious. A stray beam from the sun caught its feathers and changed them from blue to red and to green, shimmering and flickering in a display of beauty that I sensed it was aware of, which made me smile. It was probably the first smile I wore in months.

The delightful little creature was drawing me into the forest. Crazy thought, but it enjoyed my admiration. Could that be? It was an enchanting thought, really, even though it was just a dumb creature, a bird busy with whatever birds are busy with. It stopped feeding and perched, looking at me—the human who did not belong here.

It flew away.

I was suddenly more aware of the jungle. I looked down at my feet and up toward the sky. The sun filtered from the canopy in soft rays, unseen monkeys chattered, and the smell of the forest filled my senses with its deep musty scent. Shades of greens and browns with flickering shadows played on my eyes. My sense of smell was overpowered by pungent sudden scents, heady and strong. I heard the forest floor under my feet and became self-conscious of the noise I was making. My senses were extra sensitive, and it felt as if I was disturbing a world that did not welcome humans.

I tried to walk more quietly, but did not turn to go back. The forest was working some kind of magic on me, and my tired body was relaxing a little. I swung my head in a circle, trying to relieve my stiff neck, and rounded my shoulders, letting the muscles stretch from months of worrying. I had entered into another realm. The tedious world I lived in was gone, my normal life just a figment of my imagination, because this was the only one that existed, this jungle with all its colors, textures, sounds and scents there just to amaze me. This was the only world that was awake and real, and the other one was a sham of reality.

I thought I might as well enjoy this forest while it was here. In a couple of weeks it would be gone.

I felt a stab of guilt.

Gone?

I reminded myself that I had no choice. No, I did not.

I had a job to do. According to Richards, it needed to be done yesterday. Or I would lose my job. Yes, I had been thinking I didn’t care if I got fired, but how would that look on a résumé? I needed to stop fooling around and get back. More workers were due to arrive, and I needed to make sure each was trained and ready for Monday. If not, there would be more delays.

I stopped in the shadows and looked around me. This jungle had hundreds of species of animals, insects and plants, explosions of life clamoring for my attention.

I wandered farther in, mesmerized, the smells assaulting me, a small breeze pulling me in deeper. I reached out and felt the leaves of some of the plants. They were tough with resins. Some of the plants—such as ferns, orchids, cacti, and mosses, which seemed to have the ability to live virtually in midair—had evolved to the point that they simply didn’t need to grow on the forest floor, instead living on other plants. They trapped the little soil they needed, which was carried by the wind, and this helped them develop roots and a litter base on tree branches.

I looked closer at one of the trees, home to snails and tree frogs of marvelous colors. Leafy vines began life on the ground and threw tendrils up the tree trunk, wrapping themselves around it.

Light and shadow put on a show for me. I stood still. A chill ran down my spine. I had the sensation that the forest was aware of me.

No, I had lost it; I was just overly tired.

No, I felt it.

The rainforest seemed to breathe.

I listened. It was breathing. And watching me.

That was when I was sure the jungle was out to get me. It was wet and humid and then started to rain, lightly at first, and then within minutes was coming down hard, with thunder and lightning. I was hungry. I was getting drenched. I needed shelter.

I crawled under a clump of plants for some shelter, wrapped my arms around myself, and huddled.

I waited.

After about an hour it stopped and I stepped out from the bushes. I realized at that moment the birds had stopped their incessant racket, and the monkeys were mute. There was dead quiet. An ant marching across a leaf would have been deafening. A frond fluttered against the bark of a tree and I jumped. My imagination was playing tricks on me, because I thought I saw someone through the large palm fronds. I had better be getting back to the camp. I needed sleep. I had a lot of work to do tomorrow. I reminded myself that everything was in place, and the newly hired help would arrive tomorrow. I had the weekend to—

A strange song. A melody. A birdsong. Exotic and beautiful. I spun around. Which direction? It was up, then down. To the left. I spun again; it was to the right. What kind of bird made such a sound? None that I had ever heard, but then there were millions of species in the rainforest that humans had never even seen or heard of. No, not a bird. The birdsong was almost human. Now with warbling and then with long sustained notes, first like a beautiful mysterious instrument and then like an innocent child with a highly pitched and melodious voice, pure, expressive and almost angelic. Then it sang a melody for almost a whole minute, a melody that I recognized yet could not quite recall.

It stopped.

Along with my heart.

I sucked in my breath. I needed to get it back.

My emotions hit deep into despair and soared to joy as it started again right over my shoulder. Close to my ear. I turned. Nothing was there.

“What the hell?”

A shadow, then a shimmer ten feet away and a slight movement making the large ferns sway.

“Hey! Who are you?”

A rustle and the song began again.

“What are you?”

I ran to where the foliage had moved. A figure was walking away from me. A female with long black hair to her waist, maybe a native girl. There were no natives on this land anymore. Our company had made sure they were all moved off.

She had on something strange. A long dress. Some kind of fabric that shimmered like that hummingbird.

“Wait.” But she started walking faster. I sped up. I was getting out of breath. “Wait, I want to talk with you.”

What was I doing? What an idiot. I was chasing her and frightening her. I stopped.

She also stopped and turned, and I saw her face. It made my heart skip a beat. She smiled at me. That was not the face of a frightened woman. It was the face of the most beautiful female creature I had ever seen.

She started walking again.

“Wait!”

She was walking so fast now that I was running to catch up with her. I chased her for fifteen minutes or more, all the while wondering what I was doing. Then she was gone.

Such a feeling of loss. Almost as if I had lost someone near and dear.

I turned to leave. Enough. I was just too tired and stressed, and that was the reason for this strange emotional state. Foolishness. So what if some native had wandered in here?

I walked for about an hour and didn’t recognize anything. Not that I expected to. In this jungle, everything was new to me and nothing seemed to repeat itself. There was not one thing that could be used as a guide to where I was or where I had been. I panicked and looked up; the sun was now over to the west. The camp was west, so I calmed down. I just needed to go west, get back and get some sleep.

I was so tired.

Hungry.

Thirsty.

I felt nauseous and dizzy.

I walked for another half hour. What the hell? That didn’t make sense. I had walked for about an hour into the jungle going east, and now I had been heading west. I should have reached the edge of the jungle.

Maybe I had walked in circles, or lost track of time and gone in farther than I thought.

Or, a terrifying thought, I was way north or south of the area we had cleared for camp.

I walked faster. Another half hour and I still hadn’t reached the edge of the forest and the beginning of our camp area. My breath was coming faster now. Not from physical exertion but from anxiety.

Should I go north or south? My gut said to go south. It was getting darker, and it dawned on me that this rainforest was a dangerous place, beautiful but deadly to a human.

I was exhausted, panting, and my heart was beating too hard, but I walked faster. I had to arrive at the work area soon. I turned a little to the west again.

Then I saw it. In the shadows.

Crouched as still as an onyx carving, not two yards in front of me, was a black panther. Its yellow eyes were unblinking. Its breath was slow and controlled. Its muscles were tight as compressed springs.

We stood and stared at one another. So it was bizarre that at that moment I admired the rare and beautiful animal steeped in mystery and referred to by some as the ghost of the forest.

I had been told that there was no such cat as a panther. It is actually a black form of a leopard or, in this case, probably a rare black jaguar. Worshiped by the natives. I was in mortal danger.

It was a reflex to back up, but I fought the urge to run. That would have been stupid. The muscular animal could be on me in one dive. It let out a low growl and I saw its white fangs, teeth that were about to make me into a meal.

Should I hide, flee, or what? I reached down very slowly and grabbed some leaves to throw into its face. My heart hammered in my chest as I panted. A ray of sun broke from the canopy, and the big cat’s black coat shimmered. Its powerful muscles rippled and contracted—ready to pounce.

But it didn’t.

It turned its head to the right.

That song again. The birdsong. Soft and high-pitched, first warbling and then holding a note.

The panther suddenly turned and disappeared into the jungle.

I caught a glimpse of the girl again. I could only see her face. She looked straight at me before she walked away.

“Wait! Help me!”

I ran to where she had been. I heard the rustle of foliage and ran to the sound. And kept running, following the sounds of a person walking through the forest.

The forest started to thin out, but she wasn’t there. Then about twenty feet ahead of me, I thought I saw her again. With what little energy I had left, I ran to catch up with her.

Gone. I stood still, looking around. I didn’t feel as frightened of the jungle as I had, but there was that strange feeling it was watching me again. This time more benign.

I walked for a while, no longer concerned that I was lost. That was shocking! Where was my hunger and thirst? My fatigue? All my discomforts were there, but I was being fascinated with each unique tree, leaf, bug and caterpillar. All manner of moss and delicate flowers. It was a beautiful place, really. Orchids in a blaze of different colors, passionflowers, and a strange flower like a furry orange and yellow caterpillar.

Wherever there was sun, there was a bush with poinsettias in red, white, pink and bicolor. All different species of the flowers were growing on trees, rocks and other plants. Bright colors of red, orange, purple and blue. I looked closer at them and they were the homes to tree frogs, snails and salamanders.

I had been told that eleven thousand varieties of Amazonia’s trees were very rare. It seemed that no two were alike. I did recognize the kapok, their open umbrellas towering over all of the others. The straight trunks were smooth, gray and some had a diameter of nine feet. Large spines protruded to discourage damage, and plank-like buttresses protruded out, some to thirty feet.

Good luck with that old Timberjack!

When I had that thought, I again felt that the jungle might be breathing. At which point the monkeys started to frolic and carry on louder. And the birds seemed to suddenly be having quite a party. That started me laughing for no reason at all. I had to sit down, laughing so hard tears were running down my face.

Then I noticed the sun was gone. Just like that. The weather changed from one moment to another, there in the rainforest, like a temperamental woman. That was what this tropical paradise was like. A woman. Paradise? Yes, I actually thought that word. Before I felt I was living in hell and wanted to go home more than anything. Now it felt different, sort of welcoming. And I liked the feeling.

It started to rain again. I tried to shelter myself under a clump of plants with large leaves, and huddled there through the night as the rain poured with a vengeance. I finally fell asleep in spite of all my discomfort.

When I woke in the early morning, I was terribly hungry. I didn’t know which of the plants were edible; I could poison myself if I tried any of them. I was feeling despondent and sick. Then I noticed it—food arranged on a large leaf in front of me, tropical fruit, berries, and what I hoped were edible flowers.

A gift? From whom?

I didn’t care at the moment and devoured it all.

Crawling out of my hiding place, I headed west again. Strange that I no longer felt frantic to get out of the jungle, just tired. Very, very tired.

I heard the singing again and followed it. The sound filled me with joy.

“I just want to talk with you. Can’t you stop?”

That was when I realized that I was out of the forest and in the clearing with the equipment and the camp.

She had led me out of the jungle.

She had protected me from the jaguar, brought me food, and led me to safety.

I stood there blinking in the bright sunlight. When my vision cleared, I saw that workers were standing around idle, probably waiting for the foreman to direct them, which was me.

Me. The big boss man. I must have been a real sight, panting, dirty, ragged, and smiling stupidly.

Two of them ran to me as my knees buckled and I passed out.

I was out for about twenty-four hours. We were many miles from a hospital, so my assistant, Carl, was doing the best he could to nurse me back to health. Humidity can lead to dehydration and serious medical emergencies. When the humidity is high, that interferes with the body’s ability to get rid of heat by sweat evaporating off your skin’s surface. So you sweat a lot, but you don’t get rid of the heat as easily. However, that I had actually stopped sweating and had a fever was not the only side effect of the mess I was in. My legs and fingers were badly swollen. I was extremely thirsty, had dry itchy skin, and had not urinated in twelve hours, not to mention my heart was jumping and pounding; and I was extremely fatigued and dizzy.

Carl was reprimanding me as he put cool cloths on me, going on about how it was totally necessary when living in the Amazon to stay hydrated. I knew unchecked dehydration could lead to delirium, confusion, shock, stroke and death, but I was afraid I hadn’t paid enough attention to my health because I had been under so much pressure with the job going so slowly and so many delays. And the boss in Denver yelling, always yelling.

Carl handed me another bottle of water with sugar and salt added, and pushed a bunch of bananas at me. “Potassium.” He had me rub salt onto my hands and rub it all over to alleviate the horrible itching, and he continued to apply cool wet cloths to my thin-skinned areas.

I remembered the feeling of confusion when I started my little walk into the forest following that hummingbird; I hadn’t been careful to take lots of electrolytes and drink gallons of water.

So the bird girl was just a hallucination. I sat up, the cloths falling off. “No! She was real!”

“What? Who was real?”

“Never mind.”

“Boss?”

I lay back down and tried to put the cloths back. “Just feeling kind of goofy. Never mind.”

“You got lucky. You could’ve died in that jungle.”

“Yeah, whatever. I have to tell you something. Someone lives in there. A tribe or something.”

“What do you mean?”

I was telling him about the girl when his cell phone rang. He answered. It was obviously our boss, Mr. Richards, from Denver. Carl told him I had been found and the project would go ahead today, even though I was laid up. He would run the show until I was better. Which I was sure he liked, as I knew he wanted my job.

I waited until he left for lunch and put together a backpack with emergency items like a flashlight, compass, a weapon, food and some water, all just in case of what, I didn’t know. I didn’t plan on being gone long and didn’t plan on getting lost this time. I knew Carl would be pissed and tell the boss I had left, but I needed to find her. I needed to know I was not imagining her.

I still felt dizzy and was really too sick, but managed to get a ways into the jungle and started calling for her.

“It’s me. My name is Jake. Jake Priestly. I want to talk to you. Hello? I need to talk to you.”

It was weird because I had only gotten a few glimpses of her before, yet I felt I had connected with her. I remembered that smile, and she did, after all, lead me out of the forest.

The forest was unusually quiet, almost too quiet. Shadows and dim light, close humid air. I started to feel as if I couldn’t breathe.

“I want to talk with you. Please come out.”

Then I heard it. A soft, melancholy birdsong. There was a shimmer in a dark patch ahead of me. The vines became a glistening pale color with a face. She moved forward a bit and peered at me. High cheekbones, small mouth and large dark eyes.

My heart was pounding; I was so relieved that she was real. She was as exquisite as I remembered her. “Ehh, hello.”

“Hello.”

“What’s your name?”

“Lara.”

“Do you live around here?”

She smiled. “Sim.” Yes.

I said, “Boa tarde. Você fala inglês?” Good afternoon. Do you speak English?

“Yes.”

“Why are you here in the jungle? Where is your home?”

She moved out of the vines and ferns and stood before me. “This is my place.”

I didn’t know what to say to that, except to parrot what she said, “You live in this place? Don’t you have a village nearby?”

“No.”

“Do you have people with you here?”

“No.”

“But you can’t live in a forest by yourself.”

“I do.”

“But this area will soon be gone. The trees are going to be cut down soon. Surely you have a village or something? Can I talk with your people?”

She moved back a little. “No. No, it will not be gone.”

“What?”

“The forest will not be gone. You will not let it be gone.”

She moved back some more, and as a reflex, I reached out to her.

“Wait, don’t go. What do you mean I will not let it be gone? I’m in charge of cutting down these trees.”

I sucked in my breath as she suddenly backed into the foliage and was gone.

“Wait!”

I chased her, but there was no sign of her anymore.

The birds continued to carry on, and the monkeys went about their frolic in the branches, and again I felt the forest aware of me. I could feel it breathing. Watching me. Anticipating my actions. My thoughts. I felt naked as it peered deep into my soul.

The jungle made itself known to me, but she did not.

My heart felt heavy as I took my time leaving the jungle, watching and listening carefully for any sign of her. As I entered the camp area, the walking machines stood there, looking like outer space monsters or some comic book transformers. Spread around the small green bodies were six legs, with large pads serving as feet, all of which gave them the appearance of a crouching spider.

Before they were a thing of beauty to me: awesome, powerful, and efficient. Now they were ugly—vicious, metal killing machines.

That was when the idea came to me. I would stop the operation. There was no doubt, not even a tiny bit. I would stop it. I had to stop it.

How could I do that? Steal parts from the machines? I was an honest person. The resolute decision moments before now turned to painful doubt.

Could I live with myself if I sabotaged them?

I stood there for fifteen minutes, the uncertainty raging within me. Finally, I decided. I would do it.

I walked quickly to my small trailer, opened the door and nearly jumped out of my skin as Carl came up behind me and said, “What the hell? I just called Mr. Richards and told him you had disappeared again. Couldn’t find you anywhere around the camp. Are you completely nuts? Where the hell did … why do you have on a backpack? Did you go back into the jungle?”

“Never mind, Carl. Just needed to get some air.”

“Air? Where would you find air around here? You went in there looking for that girl!”

“Well, yes, I did. I think if there’s a native village around here we don’t know about, they should be warned.”

“Well, you explain all that to Mr. Richards. We’re starting tomorrow, that is if we can keep you out of the damn jungle and on the job.”

He stomped off. I guess he no longer had any interest in nursing me. I felt like I was going to pass out again and I was on my own.

I went into my trailer and took off my clothes. I turned on the fan and stood naked in front of it, wiping myself down with a wet rag while swigging a quart of water with electrolytes. And lay down to wait.

There would be no work tomorrow.

I would see to it.

 

In the morning, I stepped out of my trailer and walked over to the Timberjacks. Men were milling around. I didn’t see Carl.

“Max, what’s going on?”

“We have big problems.” Max was one of the Timberjack pilots.

“What?”

“The walking machines don’t work. Looks like they’ve been sabotaged. The computer boards have been removed.”

I fished out my satellite phone to call Mr. Richards. When he picked up, I told him about the problem and, of course, he went nuts.

I said, “Look, I’ll call the manufacturer and order new computer boards.”

“Well, do it fast. And call the local police.”

Now that was stupid. The police were miles and miles from this isolated spot. I knew that and he didn’t. I also knew there was no way to tell how long it would take to get the computer boards. Mail service was not exactly dependable.

“Sure,” I said and hung up.

As soon as I found Carl, I told him to go to São Luís and wait for the parts. “Call me when you have them and are on your way back.”

He looked sideways at me. I could tell he was suspicious. I did my best not to look guilty.

Stupid! I should have just damaged them instead of removing them, and then I would have had some plausible deniability. The computer parts I took out of the walking machines were hidden in the jungle. Rotting in the damp earth where I buried them.

He grabbed a Jeep and was gone.

There was nothing to do, so most of the men left for the local town twenty miles away. Not really a town, more like an outpost with a bar and a lousy place they called a hotel.

I’m normally a moral and honest guy, doing an honest day’s work, and this behavior was way over the top and stupid. The new parts would arrive, and all I had done was delay the project.

I spent the next two weeks roaming the jungle, and every once in a while she emerged from the depths and presented herself to me. The trees and vines began to feel like old friends as we sat, sometimes for nearly an hour, in silence, the conversation being only us absorbing the life in the area, the spirit of the birth, living and dying of millions of creatures large and small, a busy hive of activity in the quiet. I’m not a religious man, but the rainforest at those times felt like sitting in a glorious cathedral, with a swelling choir to stir the spirit, a place to reflect on otherworldly matters, a place that cleansed the soul.

I will never forget the setting on one day, where the sun flowed through a slight mist. Not rain, really, merely a bit of drizzle wetting our faces and clothing, but not enough to bother seeking shelter. It was almost comforting, like a gift to ease the humidity. A bit of magic made more magical as she sang for me. A lovely birdsong.

She finished the song and smiled at me. The smile warmed me inside, and I felt as if a rainbow had appeared to tantalize me with its bright exquisite hues. I wanted to reach for that rainbow and hold it and have it for my own. She was the rainforest and the rainforest was Lara, and for the first time in my life I was at peace, because I recognized that I had been at war with myself, and the sanctity of the canopy of towering trees was a shelter that ended the strife and noise, the forest bringing out the best of me.

When she looked at me with her huge eyes full of light, I melted, and then she would say, “Jake, is it you?” I didn’t know what she meant, but I always just nodded yes. I longed to touch her.

Sometimes we would just run through the rainforest together, laughing like playful children. Or dive into small lakes fed by waterfalls, and then dry in the sun and feast on things she gathered that tasted like the most wonderful food a human could possibly find in this world.

We talked a lot, but mostly it was me jabbering on about myself. I realized that she never told me how she got to the jungle or where she was from. I would ask and she would just smile at me. Then I would forget my questions and get lost in her eyes. I had fallen in love, for the first time in my life.

I longed so much to touch her, and I finally worked up the nerve. I reached out to place my hand on her shoulder.

My hand went through thin air.

I stood and gasped. “What the …? Lara!”

All she did was smile at me.

“What are you? A damned ghost? Lara! Please explain this to me.”

“No, I am a real person. I am not a ghost.”

“Then you are some kind of angel.”

She laughed. “No. Not an angel. I am alive. Flesh and blood. Just not while I am in the jungle.”

“I don’t understand. Then you’re a ghost when you’re in the jungle?”

“Yes, and I guard this forest from those who would destroy it. You are going to help me keep that from happening.”

“Lara, it is my job.”

“You need another job.”

“That’s probably what’s going to happen, because if the project doesn’t move forward soon, I’ll be fired. Then Carl will get the promotion he wants so badly and you’ll have to deal with him.”

“No, you will.”

“Will what? I don’t even want to know what you mean. I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I let out a long sigh and it all spilled out. “Lara, all I want is to be with you. That’s all I can think about. But I’ve fallen in love with a ghost. I’ll die if I can’t be with you. Do I have to die to be with you?”

“No, Jake. I told you, I am as alive as you are.”

“You’re sitting there on that rock, talking to me, and you don’t have a real body. If I put my hands on you, they go through thin air.”

“I love you, too, Jake. I know you love me, and I know you love this rainforest.”

“You say I need to stop this job. Help you stop the clear-cut. Are you with me because you need me to do something for you? Is that all this is?” The thought of that made my heart break. “Lara?”

She touched my face, but there was no flesh there. It was just a warm sensation. “I am a spirit just as you are. I have a body, just as you do. I am just not trapped in it. I am free to leave and come here to take care of my beloved jungle.”

She stood. “I love you. It will all turn out good. Do not worry. I know you will protect this rainforest. I have to go. I have another life, and I will see you in that life.”

She was so quick, I hardly saw her leave.

 

A month later, I was in the city of São Luís, a city in northeastern Brazil, on São Luís Island in the Atlantic Ocean, a pretty city with long stretches of beach for me to wander and think. And I had plenty of time to wander because I was without a job. The computer parts never did arrive. Turned out the company’s credit was bad. Did I get fired? No, I had just delayed the operation with my little sabotage. No parts, no work, and no lumber. It turned out Richards’ constant anxiety was justified, because the company was on the verge of bankruptcy, and the delays on this job sent it over the cliff. I was out of a job because the company folded.

I wasn’t upset about losing the job. That was a relief, really. What plagued me was I knew someone else would acquire the property and Lara the bird-girl still had work to do if she was going to save her rainforest.

Work? What would she do? Find another guy like me to bewitch, who would find ways to delay the clear-cutting? Would he fall in love with her as I did?

A breeze came up as I walked the streets. Street vendors hawked their wares, and car horns blared. I was only vaguely aware of the chaos of the city. Work for me? Get another job logging with another company? I just didn’t have the heart for it anymore. My life no longer made sense. There was something that had happened in the jungle that made me realize I lived a shallow, empty life. No purpose that meant anything to make a difference in the world, besides selling lumber. I was not aware of that before, really. Like that hummingbird, Lara knew exactly what she was doing and what she wanted.

And how to get it.

I was thinking that maybe I would see if Greenpeace was hiring, or some other environmental organization, when I saw a girl about a block away. She was walking out of a bank, putting the strap of her handbag on her shoulder. She had on a black skirt, white blouse and a short purple jacket. Just a regular person, but I thought I recognized the figure and the long black hair. Something about the way she walked.

Adrenaline thudded and my heart skipped a beat. When the sun hit her at a certain angle, there was just a flash of iridescence.

It was Lara. I was sure of that. I took off running toward her.

She turned right at the corner. When I got there, I stopped and looked down the street. She was gone. How?

She had to have gone into one of the many apartment buildings. Which one? I wandered up and down the street and looked up at windows, hoping to spot her. I paced the block back and forth for an hour until I finally sat down on a curb. I gave up. I realized I would never find her. She was a creature of the jungle, not a city girl. I was imagining that I saw her. How stupid could I be?

I stood and straightened my clothes, ready to find a place to eat when someone tapped me on the shoulder.

I turned and gasped.

“Lara?”

I touched her shoulder. It was solid, real, and flesh.

“Hello, Jake. You found me. I knew you would.”

I stood dumbly, staring at her, and then just blurted out, “I love you, Lara.”

She smiled as my face turned red and my eyes filled, so embarrassed at my clumsiness.

Finally, I said, “I’m sorry, so I’m confused. Who are you? What are you?”

“Jake, I am human, just as you are. I told you that before. But when I go to the jungle, I am no longer flesh and blood. I am the jungle. My soul is there, and my body lives here.”

“Will you be with me, Lara?”

“Yes, Jake.”

I gazed into those large dark eyes and I knew my life would never be the same. Taking her into my arms, I was relieved that she was real, solid, and I could feel her warmth against my body. I kissed her and she kissed me back.

I stopped and held her by the shoulders. “Lara, we’ll save the rainforest. I’ll help you. I don’t know how, but I will. We’ll do it together.”

“Yes, Jake. Together.”

Her and I. I had found that illusive thing to fill the void, found the purpose that would set my world on fire. And like the hummingbird, I could have the same ambition it had, fairly bursting with joy in work, competent in knowing exactly where I would find my reward, using the spirit of play in taking the sweet nectar of the flower.

November Interim Winners

I woke at 6:00 am the other day listening to rain and thunder. I don’t know about other Southern Californians, but I always welcome a rainy day. Makes me feel cozy and inspired. Besides, the rain washes some dirt off my neglected car.
So feeling good, I got up and started this newsletter. I realized that the month is quickly coming to an end and I have not chosen interim winners as promised. So here are a few, but stay tuned for more coming before this month’s raffle ends.
Mya Murphy
Elliot (elliotmarks06)
Emir Selimovic
Gurdeep Singh Grewal
These winners can pick from the prizes on the website (except for the Grand Prize). Email me with your choice and give me your address. I’ll have Amazon send it to you.
https://fictionbyphoenix.com/sweepstakes-prizes-and-free-stuff/

read@fictionbyphoenix.com

Love,
Lee

Maximum Nutrition Meal Plan

Just wanted to share this with you. I have tried every diet known to humankind and rarely stick to them. There are so many diets out there and they all sound great, but what if you are not doing well and losing weight is not the main focus?

I have been having some serious health problems and wanted a diet that provided MAXIMUM NUTRITION to get well. I also wanted a meal plan that I could follow and not have to think about a menu. After extensive research, I came across this.

http://www.whfoods.com/7daymealplan/whfmealplan.pdf

There is a daily meal plan and recipes. I’m on day 4 and so far they are delicious.

Here is an excerpt from the PDF:
Welcome to our World’s Healthiest Foods Meal Plan! One of the easiest and
most effective ways to boost your nourishment and potential health benefits
is by adopting a way of eating that focuses on the World’s Healthiest Foods.
And that’s exactly what you will be doing by adopting this easy-to-follow plan. Before
telling you more about our meal plan and the way it works, however, we want to
share some its highlights:
Meets or exceeds 100% of our daily nutrient
recommendations for all 29 nutrients in our rating
system
• Achieves these nutrient percentages without the use
of any dietary supplements
• Provides dietary fiber in an amount that nearly
triples the U.S. average (47 grams vs. 18 grams)
• 1,878 calories for an average day—200 calories less
than the daily U.S. average of 2,081 calories
• Averages 8 total cups of vegetables per day—far
exceeding public health recommendations including
Dietary Guidelines for Americans, My Plate, and
American Heart Association guidelines
• Averages over 2 cups of cruciferous vegetables per
day—a vegetable subgroup second to none
• Averages over 1/2 cup of allium vegetables per day—
including phytonutrient-rich garlic and onions
• Averages 3/4 cup of red/purple vegetables per
day—providing phytonutrients like lycopene and
anthocyanins
• Averages 3 grams of omega-3s per day—and once
again, without the use of dietary supplements

Let me know what you think. Other ideas about this subject? I would love to hear from you.

Love,
Lee

The Dramatic Question and The Story Problem – Writing Tips

Do you read in bed in order to fall asleep? Here is how to guarantee that happens.Man asleep with a book

Gary and I are both avid readers. Movies are nice, but a good book is what we live for (besides writing, of course.)

Have you ever opened a book or your Kindle and gotten into say the third or fourth chapter and asked yourself — is there a story here? Or become kind of bored or even impatient with it and were not sure why.

We spent some months doing Beta Reading through Fiverr. That is the service of reading a story from the viewpoint of a reader and letting the writer know what you thought of it. We added how we thought it could be improved and did a creative edit, which usually costs hundreds of dollars. Well, we didn’t do it for the money, and we learned a lot.

Nine times out of ten, I had to write in the critique: What is this story about? That is because the writer did not work out the Story Question, which is the core question to be answered in the story. That is the element that engages the reader to find out how the character/characters overcome obstacles, and that keeps the reader turning pages. This is something that should be worked out right after you have an idea for a story, and before writing it.

Dramatic Question with leads to the Story Question, also called the Story Problem:Will Scarlet win Ashley? (Gone with the wind)
Will Indy obtain the legendary Ark of the Covenant? (Raiders of the Lost Ark)
Will Clarice catch Buffalo Bill? (Silence of the Lambs)
Will McClane free the hostages? (Die Hard)
Is Odysseus going to make it home from Troy? (The Odyssey)
Will Romeo and Juliet ever be together? (Romeo and Juliet)
“Who/what is Rosebud?” (Citizen Kane)

I think it needs to start in the first chapter, and then to solve the story problem, the protagonist has to fix something, find something, prevent something, do something. Each chapter contains an element of that problem. Here is an interesting article about developing the story problem.
https://theeditorsblog.net/2016/10/15/the-story-question-is-vital/

One of the stories we read had lots of interesting characters, scenery, events, and situations, but I never did know what the story was about, except that a lady goes to Italy to get away from things, she experiences some pleasant events, has a good time, goes places, goes to the beach. At the beach, she saves a lady from drowning. While she saves her, she runs into a mermaid. And … well you see. A mermaid????

I just bought a western. I haven’t read one in a long time, so I was excited. The whole story was about the life of a mountain man and a Cherokee brave. It seemed to be about their friendship, and it was I think. But that, the gratuitous violence and sex, and the struggle of the Cherokee against the white man were just not enough to create a great story. It was this happened, then this happened, and then this happened. I started turning pages all right, but quickly just to get to the end. I supposed the Story Question was: Will the Cherokee Nation survive the expansion of the white man? Or Will the friendship between the mountain man and the brave survive the conflict around them?

In the Romance genre, the reader already knows from the beginning that the characters will live happily ever after. That is a rule of the genre. They have to pretend to not know the outcome because they want to participate in the journey to get there.

To solve the story problem, the protagonist has to fix something, find something, prevent something, do something. The story question arises out of the story problem. Will our character—let’s call her Sally—find the murderer or the kidnapped child? Will Sally fall in love with John? Will Sally prevent the overthrow of the government, find the treasure, find herself?

Story events and character thoughts and dialogue should be all about solving the story problem—from the characters’ point of view—and answering the story question—from the readers’ point of view. All the elements of the story should serve the story problem.

Take any book you really liked, and you will see right away it was because you cared about what the character/characters needed/wanted or a problem they were trying to solve.

Okay, so there is my rant.
Thanks for listening.
Lee Jordan

Interim Winners of our July Sweepstakes

Hi Everyone: Lee Jordan (the wife half of our writing team).


I see so many people sticking with our sweepstakes from June. We promised to have INTERIM WINNERS for entrants and this is our second Interim Giveaway for July.
The end of the July raffle is coming up – ends July 31 at midnight. You still have a chance to crank up your points for the Grand Prize. Especially the Refer a Friend option – possible 10 points, and Fly with Phoenix option, 10 points each (not five points) and 5 books available (possible 50 points).
You know, if you go for extra points, it would be good to email me and tell me what you did. The Rafflecopter form of entrants is really long. I might miss it.
Go to
https://www.fictionbyphoenix.com

All entrants win a copy of Random Amusements, Quick Reads Collection #1 – Short Stories and Flash Fiction – Kindle. Just email me at:
read@fictionbyphoenix.com 
I pay for it (not free to me) and arrange for Amazon to deliver it.
This is SWEET. “A Drink of Water,” “My Beloved Ghost in the Amazon,” “Snowbank,” “Our Frozen World,” and more. Quick Reads Collection #1, Short Stories and Flash Fiction by Phoenix
https://geni.us/7KhF

Don’t have a Kindle? No problem. For help with a Kindle app use this link.
https://www.amazon.com/gp/help/customer/display.html?nodeId=GZSM7D8A85WKPYYD

INTERIM WINNER LEVEL 1
Whoo Hoo! Lacy Jo Williams wins a choice of TWO of the prizes below plus a choice of ebooks. Email me with your choices. read@fictionbyphoenix.com

INTERIM WINNER LEVEL 2
The FIRST TEN PEOPLE who respond via email win a choice of the prizes below.
Now note, the final July grand prize is a $25 Amazon Gift Certificate. But there will also be a chance to win the prizes below AGAIN. So if you are not quick enough and don’t open this email in time to win, make sure you open the next one … quickly. 

Before I get to the list of winners, Big Bad Hat wants to say something.

Hello. My name is Big Bad Hat. I’m the coolest member of the Phoenix Fan Club. The co-authors, Lee and Gary, are over there happily dancing around and whooping and hollering like a couple of kids, celebrating because so many people have downloaded their books. Look at them. Whew!
Okay, someone has to act alike an adult here, know what I mean? Well, maybe that’s not fair. They work pretty hard.

They found some cool new stuff. “Novel Prizes.” Get it? Novel? They are writers? (dot dot dot) Okay, well never mind. I think they are juicy, but if you don’t like the “Novel Prizes, there are other choices.
Just email them with your choice AND let them know if you read ebooks, because you also get a choice of those. See the selection below. They pay for it, so tell them which one. I vote for Leon’s Lair, my favorite.

Phoenix, listen. That Nick? In Leon’s Lair? The spoiled, rich, Greek kid? He’s a JERK! Are you sure you want him as a character? He really pisses me off. I mean, Jane should go for Peter, not Nick. Nick is such a rat. He’ll lead Leon right to her.
That’s it! I’m going to go kick his butt, right now.
https://geni.us/LFfZdGp

EMAIL:  read@fictionbyphoenix.com

Here they are — the winners of Level 2:
Clemencio
Cat Firstman
Bryan Vice
Mikhail Rapoport Jr.
Molli Taylor
Jennifer Wohlrab
Erin Denise Moriarty
Aaron Reck
Vladimir Palyuga
Alan Wills
Jen Peak
Christopher Mason
Robyn Moxon
Jessica Connely
Delia ?
Paula ?
Christine N.
Tyla Noyes
Blake Brodjeski
Lauren ??
Beth Minyard
Lysette Lam
Katerina ??
Anna Pry
Nancy Payette
Amanda Kline
Brian Gray
Daniella Bonagura
Shawn A
Alan Wills
Calvin Fung
Katerina ??
Kamella Greene
Maria Lysa
Calvin Fung
Kamella Greene
Maria Lysa
Hieu Mach
William Dalgauer
Ashleigh Silberstein
Sierra Stackhouse
Andrea Chandler
Karen Paparella
Vasyl Palyuga
Anny Furyk
Oleg Zhurakivskiy

THE PRIZES:
Disappearing Cheshire Cat Mug – Add Coffee or Tea and The Cheshire Cat Disappears Except for its Grin – Comes in a Fun Gift Box

MyCozyCups I Before E Weird Mug – Funny Teacher Literature Grammar

Banned Book Coffee Mug – The Best Books That Were Thought to Be Too Scandalous or Subversive to Read

 

 

Shakespearean Insults Coffee Mug – Shakespeare’s Wittiest and Meanest Insults

 

First Lines Literature Coffee Mug – The Greatest Opening Lines 

Novel Tea with Literary Quotes 

Novel Teas – Modern American Classics contains 25 teabags individually tagged with literary quotes from the world over, made with the finest English Breakfast tea.

Manicure Pedicure Set Nail Clippers – 10 Piece Stainless Steel Manicure Kit – tools for nail, Cutter Kits -Perfect gift for women, men Includes Cuticle Remover with Portable Travel Case 


Hair Scalp Massager, Heeta Scalp Shampoo Brush with Soft Silicon Brush Head Tourmaline Contained (Black)

ETCBUYS, LED, Flashlight Gloves – Fingerless Work Gloves with lights 

CHOICE OF EBOOKS

A WHISPER FROM EDEN
Far From Home Series #1

A Stand Alone Novel
Genre: Metaphysical Science Fiction, Alternative History, Magical Realism, Myths and Legends
Young Clayton risks his life & reputation searching for the fabled Mandan tribe. He finds them, along with adventure, magic, beautiful Crying Wind & that in ancient times there was a battle between good and evil. The gods made a promise. Will it be kept?
http://geni.us/8ZU9B

LEON’S LAIR
The Paranormal Conspiracy
Far From Home Series #2

A Stand-Alone Novel
Genre: Romantic Suspense, Metaphysical Fiction, Alternate History, Magical Realism, Witch and Wizard Thriller
What is Leon really after? Yes, he is evil. And yes, he is will break your heart. But what does he really want? A reader: “You will get very attached to the characters and feel their ups and downs. I am just not ready to let them go!”
https://geni.us/LFfZdGp

TAKE ME WITH YOU, MY LOVE
A Time Travel Fantasy
Far From Home Series #3

A Stand-Alone Novel
Genre: Metaphysical Fiction, Alternate History, Time Travel Romance, Romantic Suspense
Ally falls hopelessly in love with the fictional hero in a novel. That’s bad enough, but he gets into trouble and she becomes desperate to warn him. Don’t be silly, Ally. To travel in time to 1277 Medieval England isn’t possible. Forget it
https://geni.us/fz6Z

SHAKTI and THE PRINCE
Enslavement of Earth
Far From Home Series #4

A Stand-Alone Novel
Genre: Metaphysical Fiction, Political Fiction, Alterative History, Magical Realism, Ancient & Controversial Knowledge, Colonization Science Fiction
Traditional history is wrong. When the Anunnaki arrived from the planet Nibiru to colonize Earth 450K years ago, Prince Enki found it was inhabited. However it was not an animal-like, stupid bunch of bi-peds, but an extremely sophisticated race who owned Earth.
Aliens on Earth? Sumerian clay tablets say they inhabited Earth and reigned as gods. The tablets tell who they were, how they lived & their exploits in ruling the planet. If aliens lived here, did they ever leave?
https://geni.us/xatw

Thank you
Love
Lee Jordan