The Rabbi's Books, Page 2

  The wolf-like dogs know an “alpha” wolf stares them down one at a time, but because of the size of their group, they see him as a challenge and grow daring: they have to kill this big leader before they can feed on Angela, a human delicacy, then when the others arrive, they can feed on him. One coyote snaps at him yet withdraws. Moonshiner’s demeanor shifts from expectation to annihilation: his rigid back expands, head held high cocks to one side, paws stand wide apart, and leaning on his back legs, he’s ready to spring. Dangerously outnumbered, Angela fears for his life and hers. At once, they all leap toward him and latch on with their fangs like hawks with their talons. Not quick enough, he struggles to break necks with his brute-force jaws. As the coyotes squirm, he slams them into petrified ground, and while emaciated bodies bounce up for more abuse, they suffer being split in half. All along, Moonshiner’s nervous eyes detect when Angela shifts position. She remains near. The boldest coyote approaches her; Moonshiner drops the limp one from his mouth, lunges toward the one encroaching into his jaws and hurls him several yards. Moments later she tries to distract the fresh coyotes from closing in by pitching her pillow toward them. Salivating, which started acres ago, they act oblivious of her for the moment and nosedive into the aggression, holding firm to Moonshiner. Money from the cash bag scatters in the breeze. Coyotes usually eat anything, but Angela’s food is now unsavory, strewn about by riled coyotes. With palms pressing her temples, she stands behind him while watching the wild viciousness in him—that has to be. Oh, how she yearns for the Winchester!”

  RANKED AND FEATURED FORTY-FIVE TIMES IN ITUNES TOP CHARTS THROUGHOUT THE WORLD/THIRTEEN COUNTRIES

  **** Monster at My Window ~ Sci-Fi Thriller ~ Novella

  (A sequel Night Invaders will release 2014)

  Synopsis: Fiends created by man achieve man’s detestable covert scheme under the auspices of two megacorporations. Terrorized residents on Picasso Lane know that three of their girls are kidnapped by escaped grotesque, blood thirsty beasts. Brave, loving fathers on Picasso Lane band together to war with them that interact inside ominous storm drain tunnels underneath the city of Brownsville, Texas.

  EXCERPT: With ax in hand, Ortiz makes chase as Tony follows. They turn at the same moment to see the beasts shuffling between the cement transporter and the driveway fence. Ortiz hurdles up the transporter bumper, onto the hood and swiftly jerks the ax up but cannot swing for fear of harming his daughter. Cursing and angry, he shuffles onto the windshield, onto the cab roof while grasping the ax erect. Tony and Ortiz nervously listen to Mary’s agonizing screams and the beasts’ lethal quills that scrape and thump against “the big daddy.” In moments, once free from the narrow passage, their unsurpassed momentum offers no hint to the direction of escape, apart from her screams. Ortiz and Tony scale fences, run down driveways, race down streets; however, as night stills, they slow the pace and finally stop in the middle of Dulce Street to slouch under the bright beam of a city light pole, for they are unable to tell the direction from which her tiny scream echoes, seeming to fill the moonlit sky.

  EXCERPT: Every officer on the Brownsville police force awaits Lt. Hardin who swiftly walks with conviction as he enters the police station meeting room. “Alright gentlemen, let’s calm down. The forensic team diligently works on this one. This makes the third missing person on Picasso Lane, a woman and now two children. According to Ortiz, these “beasts” are about the size of a twelve year old child, but are extremely strong. They were carrying Mary when running across the kids’ beds in the back yard and left some hard evidence behind, their prints and their blood. No, No, hold it right there! Not all of you can go at once. Now, sit down and let me finish this meeting! There’s one more thing . . . Ortiz said they had a real strong sulfur odor,” reports Police Lieutenant Hardin.

  EXCERPT: Suddenly beasts slow, keeping their distance while encircling the men. Having heard of their odd, savage attacks, the men freeze and frown at hideousness. Silent, they aim .44 Magnums and stand strong, waiting… waiting for the right moment. Created from dogs and insects, instinctively the intelligent beasts sense the fortitude of the men and realize this confrontation may not compare to others when defenseless, shocked animals and humans do not defend themselves. As if these beasts are not frightening enough, the antagonized, larger Master flies his beefy body out of the eerie tunnel, immediately stops at an upright stance, dropping spike-like wings at his sides.

  He inflates a massive torso, holds a big head high, lashes out and squirms a long, forked tongue, and with –bulging–half–shut–bloodshot–eyes that swiftly shift from one man’s eyes to the next, he disappointedly reads their low level of fear.

  The moment Ortiz reaches the men, his trailing wind falls upon the Master that instantly demonstrates disgust by spewing saliva in all directions then turns toward his small battalion and lifts his head like a howling dog to scream a shriek that can rattle glass, for he realizes not only that Ortiz is their leader but possesses the strongest urge for battle, a big fighting heart searching for its young.

  EXCERPT: Back in the tunnel, Martha awakens sore nevertheless manages to climb down the iron handles then finds solace as she slowly backs up against the wet tunnel wall. After that shocking experience, it's hard to think, think about . . . Mary, where is she? Martha loses her sense of direction - which way should she walk to get out of this hell hole? As if able to see in the dark, she reaches out and suddenly peaks in a fit of anger, jerking around in a frenzy soon tripping over Mary’s prison door which Martha had flung just before the flood waters. But how could that be, she thinks, the flood waters would have washed it down the tunnel. Martha feels along the makeshift wire door, "Oh, no, no!" she cries out when she feels a body jammed between the door and the wire housing. She stumbles back, falling on her backside. Now she knows the direction to travel and starts to mumble, reassuring herself that she can get out, just keep moving, don't stop, don't stop. But she stops at the sound of footsteps, many footsteps that splash the tunnel floor.

  EXCERPT: Leading his first group, the enraged lionhearted Master advances on claw to rip, to stab, to annihilate the foe. The men instantly react, blaring rounds toward the rush of beasts. Late in the battle, the Master drops out against the wall, and with tongue in a nervous wag, he raises his claw to signal the remainder of the battalions to advance in succession. Each refreshed group of beasts proves trying on the men who tire as well as suffer injury after injury, and yet pieces of beasts form carpets on which the men walk. King of defiance, the finally exhausted Master remains the last one standing amidst his butchered army. Bold, audacious eyes alive with boundless scorn glare at Ortiz’s face. The monstrousness of this man who has taken down his kingdom will be the last thing the Master sees. He throws out his muscular chest and tilts his head back to release a wail that pains the men’s ears before Ortiz fires two bullets directly between the Master’s eyes.

  **** The Rabbi’s Books

  (Non-Fiction ~ Novelette)

  RANKED AND FEATURED THIRTY-FOUR TIMES IN ITUNES TOP CHARTS THROUGHOUT THE WORLD / TWENTY-FIVE COUNTRIES:

  #1 IN HUNGARY

  Synopsis: Rare books in the Rabbi’s office reveal Holocaust truths not taught in schools, and thirty years later I live to see it happen.

  EXCERPT: “As I was greatly intrigued by the facts of the Holocaust for so many years, I waited weeks, hoping for the right opportunity to ask the Rabbi my question, which surely he could satisfy. On this hot summer morning, bright sun shined thru his tall office window as he stood in the warmth of sun rays. With hands behind his back, he stared out at the meticulously maintained lawn.

  “Rabbi Stadt, I have a question for you,” I said.

  He turned to look at me, “What is it?”

  “Why did the Holocaust happen?”

  The Rabbi’s demeanor changed, folding his arms at his chest and lifting his glasses to rub his nose where they had rested. Moments were passing like minutes as I
patiently sat at my desk waiting.

  He looked out the window once again and responded, “I do not know. . . . I have two books here in my office that I would like for you to read, but please do not remove them from the temple. Return the books when you’re done.”

  Words could not express how disappointed I was with his answer, for was he not one who could best articulate that phenomenon, which undoubtedly touched him deeply, that phenomenon of (40) forty million deaths? When he walked toward his shelves of books that spanned the entire wall from top to bottom, he knew exactly where they were; then, while locking eyes with mine, he placed them on my desk. That was almost eerie. I believed he had his opinions, but chose not to share them. Why? At that moment, I knew the Holocaust subject would intrigue me until death.

  My father’s recollection of the Holocaust victims was horrific enough. Yet, while reading and turning the pages of these two shocking books, I realized the innocent were slaughtered, slaughtered, and then even more were slaughtered. Although I knew none of them, there was a firm sense of why deep-heated anger and heartache would unveil in any person of any race, particularly the relatives of the victims and the surviving victims themselves. It may have been strange to some, but I walked into the Rabbi’s office tightly hugging those books then gently set them on his desk. He glanced up then returned to placing the refill into his pen. He quickly looked up again and made a facial expression as if he wanted to say something, but withdrew.

  He tipped his head, “Thank you,” said the Rabbi.

  Feeling relieved, I replied, “No, thank you, Rabbi Stadt.”

  **** Visiting Mary (Fiction ~ Short Story)

  RANKED AND FEATURED TWENTY TIMES IN ITUNES TOP CHARTS THROUGHOUT THE WORLD

  Synopsis: A true story ~ (Chosen by four editors in Texas) Days before Christmas in 1959, a daughter and distraught mother walk to visit the mother’s best friend Mary. The mother tells Mary that she’s leaving her husband. The saddened daughter listens then finds a photo of her once happy parents in Mary’s parlor. Mary convinces the mother to . . . .

  EXCERPT: “No one ever embraced Mother quite like Mary, long and meaningfully. Once we removed our coats and their eyes really met, it was as if I was not there. In just moments, I felt that was okay; then Mother started to cry. Quickly, Mary caressed Mother’s shoulder and escorted her into the kitchen. I could hear Mother softly telling the story in Spanish of the bad argument she and father had had the night before. During their conversation, Mother reiterated that she was not happy living with Father. Understanding English and Spanish, I had no choice but to listen as sadness burrowed into my chest. With hands together behind my back, slowly, I stepped into Mary’s parlor to further my mind from Mother’s pain. Step by step, I made my way to the far side of the parlor. Proudly displayed, her photos of loved ones’ faces were bordered with fine lace behind beveled glass frames. In rows of half circles, they huddled on top of her organ. Among the countless grand frames, one suddenly reached out to me . . . a picture of Father and Mother cheek to cheek, smiling and hugging each other. So thrilled, my heart started pounding! I brought my hands slowly forward from behind my back and carefully reached over and between the others to grasp my parents. I felt they took me to another time and place while I stood staring into their faces. . . . . I was wishing . . . . and hoping.”

  ****Flood of 1965 (Fiction ~ A True Novelette)

  RANKED AND FEATURED THIRTY-THREE TIMES IN ITUNES TOP CHARTS IN ELEVEN COUNTRIES THROUGHOUT THE WORLD

  Synopsis: During wee hours of morn, a panicked family tries to escape from home where violent flood waters engulf the entire subdivision. While struggling for their lives, the realization of how much they mean to each other dominates terror.

  EXCERPT: “Soon the water level rises even higher, and the heavy car suddenly shifts and rocks side to side, side to side. It rams against our home, vibrating the walls. As it rocks, it hits . . . . rocks then hits. While riding the tumultuous water toward the back yard, the titanic car cracks a bedroom window on the last ram. Water seeps in at first; then with thin glass unable to hold back tremendous weight . . . . flood waters burst in! Mom evolves into a frantic mess, rattling off Spanish I have never heard while Rusty and I run from window to window, all the way to our back bedroom to watch the car bob and shift, seeming like a mile down the driveway. But then I cringe more, as the water’s force spins the car in front of the garage which siphons the garage doors open and sucks our beautiful bikes out. For what seems like a long while, they all gyrate in a whirlpool and s-c-r-e-e-c-h each time they collide – like a horror movie – all three head for my window! I grab Rusty by the collar and throw him up into my arms while I remain focused on the threatening trio that tread nearer and nearer. I walk backward until bumping into my brother’s bed. My mouth opens to scream when I clearly see the front license plate numbers through the glass. As if the car is truly running, it wobbles to an about-face, floors the gas pedal, speeds over the club house with our bikes following suit, and heads for the back fence, knocking it over. The demolition ball and our mangled bikes will surely settle down wherever it suits them.

  I turn around. Still not fully awake from peaceful dreams, my frightened brothers stand in their pajamas and face this nightmarish reality. Not knowing what to do, we scatter throughout the house, terror-stricken, while watching the floodwater seep under the front and back doors.

  Mother yells, “Put on your shoes and shirts right now!”

  While trying to catch our shoes floating at our ankles, we are too young to realize the ramifications of this harrowing event. In unison we jerk our heads toward the splash and clearly see the swaying water half fill the other side of the window glass. When they all seep, not another minute passes before each window takes its turn to burst open, the next step to devouring our home.

  None of us has ever moved so fast, as we rush to save some possessions. After shoving the antique table and buffet against the wall, Andrew and Father toss furniture on top: living room sofa, formal chairs, portable stereo, radio, blankets, bedding, and clothing. From the bookcase, Mother and I yank out all family photo albums, music albums, my Beatle scrapbooks, my newspaper clippings of the Warren Commission Report then throw them on top of the stacked pile. But, we soon see our efforts prove a waste of time, precious time we need to get out alive!”

  RANKED AND FEATURED SIXTY-THREE TIMES IN ITUNES TOP CHARTS IN 24 COUNTRIES: to name a few - #14 in U.K. / #6 in Poland / #36 in Ireland / #13 in Portugal / #13 in Sweden / #28 in Austria / #41 in Mexico / #43 in Denmark / #44 Germany / #47 in Canada / #61 in U.S. / #90 in Switzerland / #66 in France

  **** Hannibal ~ Inspired by a True Story (Thriller ~ Novelette)

  Synopsis: A man craves revenge against a young woman and uses his enormous canine that, in the end, yearns to kill her. Which one survives?

  EXCERPT: “I look out the window as the bright sun half blocks the ability to see Dale holding my scarf to Hannibal’s nostrils. While yelling in Hannibal’s ear, Dale suddenly repeatedly slugs his snout. Even from a long distance, I see fear and anger in Hannibal’s eyes. What I suspect, I simply do not want to believe; not enough courage to share that with anyone.”

  EXCERPT: “When Hannibal peers down from the Caterpillar roof, his thick chain flops over the edge and dangles in front of Sampson’s face. Sampson continues to bark while he tries to climb, but his large size causes him to topple back down to the ground. He constantly jumps up against the side of the Caterpillar and ultimately clenches, between his teeth, the chain from Hannibal’s collar. Sampson tugs like a plow, anchors his big front paws into soft earth, and yanks and yanks while watching Hannibal’s head jerk again and again. Hannibal resists, claws the metal roof, and incessantly tries to heave Sampson’s weight until the groaning body loses balance at the edge, drags off the Caterpillar roof, and lands with a loud thud into the dirt below.”

  **** Steven (Non-Fiction ~ Novelette)

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p; RANKED IN ITUNES TOP CHARTS IN TWO COUNTRIES

  Synopsis: After the Priest gives Steven his last rites, he continues to live, and not until decades later, we understand why.

  EXCERPT: “The day after Steven’s accident, Mother snapped her fingers.

  ‘Get down on your knees,’ she said while pointing to the floor. We knew she meant it by the stern look on her face. In her bedroom, we gathered close together in front of the Virgin Mary and quickly kneeled. She lit the candle beside the statue, performed the sign of the cross, immediately knelt next to us, and said, ‘Keep in mind what I told you: each time you remember a person who has passed on, their spirit reads your thoughts. He’s close to death, but to help save him, we want God to hear our loud prayers . . . . and that will shower us with hope.’ ”

  EXCERPT: The nurses continually whispered about Steven: the fact that he miraculously lived on after the Priest gave him his last rites was mind boggling. He suffered massive internal injuries, broken bones throughout his body, including a broken leg, a skull fracture, and punctured lungs. We kneeled in front of the Virgin Mary many times during his ordeal. With the help of our mother and reports of his improvement, I began to believe in the power of prayer.