Author's Other Works
Click here to read excerpt from the sequel to The Grayling: Wild Grasses
The Shadow of Death (By Martin Freier)
The Shadow of Death
Keeps following us
Wherever
We wander
Ever day,
Making our future
Far too uncertain,
Spoiling things for us
In every way.
In vain
Do we keep on searching
For that Garden of Eden,
That place Adam abandoned
Long ago,
Where instead of rain
There was sun;
Where instead of pain
There was fun.
In this world of uncertainty
We can only live for today.
Tomorrow may never be
‘cause the Shadow of Death
is never too far away.
Unexpectedly,
Death may knock at our door.
Like an uninvited stranger,
It would walk right in.
Without much warning
Of impending danger,
It comes to take away
Our today
And tomorrow,
Leaving the world
With nothing
But endless memories
And sorrow.
A Speck of Truth (By Martin Freier)
The world is like a desert,
Filled with sand.
Dust, smoke, and garbage
Cover our beautiful land.
So many of us
Scurry about in despair
As they fuss and fuss.
In this world of chaos
They’re making it much harder
For us
To find someone we can trust,
Though we know we must.
Truth is now buried beneath
The earth’s deepest crust,
Residing in a secret cave,
Where only the brave dare to
Seek truth’s advice
Once or twice.
Though truth’s treasures
Offer rare pleasures,
There for all to see,
Our search for truth takes more
Courage
Than any of us can muster.
Instead, we give up and suffer
The sting of deceit,
Unexpected defeat,
The lies that poison our
Atmosphere
And cause us humiliation and
Fear.
Wild Grasses
By Cheryl Freier
Second Sequel Novel To: The Grayling
Within the eternities of our present time, while traveling through the many miles of the pristine perimeter of the great Slovakian forest, which is part of the Tatra Mountains, there are sounds that we hear. These are the sounds of freedom like natural sounds: laughing, singing, praying; but not crying, not gasping for breath. Many times echoing, reverberating, repeating sounds of good are welcoming sounds; and often these sounds are like an opera to our ears and to our psyche.
If we close our eyes, we could hear sounds that we are familiar with: the sounds of the horses and the wagons, dogs barking, cats purring; we could hear the sounds of the newfangled cars sputtering as they passed by the houses. We could hear the hustle and bustle of people going to work to their trades, to their offices, to their businesses, to their shops, and to their jobs, people running in and out of the grocery store. We could hear the sounds of children laughing and talking as they walked to school. We could hear the sounds of prayer from the local synagogue and from the local churches. The sounds of prayer were always heartwarming. All the sounds were always welcome and indeed a respite from the other side of the mountains where the sounds were from cannon balls, rifles’ bullets, grenades landing in the middle of fields and exploding, taking with them untold numbers of soldiers lives. These were hateful sounds, which were indicative, of course, of bitterness and hate; but they were also an indication of subliminal maladjustments: a fear of the new inventions in the world, triggered by the so-called ‘key fitting into an ignition syndrome’: a mechanical world, and this prompted questions in the minds of the deranged, which most of the Nazis were, where do I, me, myself, and I again fit in? When do I make use of my commands? How far does my power extend? Nazism had a broader context of underlying fears which were hidden under the context of the bright shining context of the words of speeches, promises and promises for the best future possible.
Wild grasses grew spontaneously as they had magically grown for centuries; there was a peacefulness within them and on their outside they flowed so gracefully; they were a sheltering and provided safety. The wild grasses provided Joseph Freier’s family nourishment. Many times the family ate the wild grasses with the raw grayling fish that they had just caught, and they savored the fish with the wild grasses.
Once and a while the sounds from the wild would become dauntless and shockingly loud; and the pace of falling rocks from the surface crests of the mountains would steadily increase and there would be a landslide. From this landslide of falling rocks, a very loud overwhelming bang sound could be heard, dulling the hearing sense for moments until the eardrum and its brain connections had its moments to reignite, recoup its natural connections. In the mountain chain of Slovakia; even the tall grasses caught their breath and stopped shaking dizzily after a landslide and bent softly with the winds.
But still this sound was nowhere as fearful as the sound of children crying in the streets, abandoned, as their parents were taken to the gas chambers. The sound was nowhere as fearful as sounds that people, young children and grandparents saw with their eyes: of a truck door slamming closed, and then the bars slamming shut, and then the motor of the truck racing to a land beneath the earth, and beneath the sea level, and the smell and impermeable blasts of gasoline odors, and the startling and loud, and scary sound of the horn of the truck. Scarier was the indecent words spoken between the driver and the soldiers up front.
One of the more distinguishable, although relatively soft sounds was from the tall, wild grasses, which could be heard swooshing back and forth. The wild grasses flowed with the drift of the wind and followed the path of the mandates of Mother Natured like all of the creatures in the world created by G-d. The cold weather of the winter had arrived a few weeks sooner than expected, some of the grasses had not turned color to the typical wilted, pale tan and then sort of faded away.
It was still warm enough to easily tear the green leaves off from the top and chew on them, spit them out or swallow them, or eat them with a piece of fish. It was really quite tasty and nutritious too. An occfrom the surface crests of the mountains, there would be an avalanche undoubtedly followed by its own identifying sound of one rock falling and then another and then more falling and many other rocks falling until there was a landslide of rocks falling and a very loud eardrum overwhelming bang sound, dulling the sense down for moments until the eardrum and its brain connections had to take moments to reignite its natural connections in peopled, in bears, and in all of the animal habitat of the tall mountain chain of Slovakia; even the tall grasses caught their breath and stopped shaking dizzily and bent softly with the winds.
But still this sound was nowhere as fearful as the sound of children crying in the streets, abandoned, as there parents were taken to the gas chambers. The sound was nowhere as fearful as the perceptions and sounds that all people, young children and older grandparents conceived in their minds of a truck door slamming closed and then the bars slamming shut and then the motor of the truck racing to a land beneath the earth and beneath the sea level, and the smell and impermeable blasts of gasoline odors, and the startling and loud, and scary sound of the horn of the truck. Scarier was the indecent words spoken between the driver and the soldiers up front.
One of the more distinguishable, although relatively soft sounds was from the tall, wild grasses which be heard swooshing back and forth. The wild grasses flowed with the drift of the wind and followed the path of the mandates of Mother Nature like all of the creatures in the world created by G-d; even though the cold weather of the winter had arrived a few weeks sooner than expected, some of the grasses had not turned color as the typical wilted, pale tan and then sort of faded away.
It was still warm enough to easily tear the green leaves off from the top and chew on them, spit them out or swallow them, or eat them with a piece of fish. It was really quite tasty and nutritious too. An occasional worm was found leafing through the top soil, but that was all right too, because it showed normalcy! The worm was going through the natural process of softening up the earth so that more roots could take hold and that more plants could grow. And once in a while when there was no other food, a worm to chew on was not that bad. It was tasteless----certainly better than going hungry. Life was hard---always having to secure the food for the family----and the choices of food were not very many, but starvation was worse. The grasses, when you got used to the taste when chewing them well, they were kind of, well, they almost tasted, like dandelions. And, yes, the wild grasses, grow and grow taller and taller and spout on the very top their seeds, and this becomes their spring grains. The grains are the essence, the meaning behind so many of our important prayers. We knew we could eat the seeds from the wild grasses. We did not become sophisticated enough to learn how to make our own bread. We did not have the patience to learn how bread is made.
It was nighttime and the glare of the moon was our only light, and we were lucky because the moon lighted up our spirits as well as dissipating all of the darkness around us. . All three of us, Joseph, and Martin, and Samuel had set out to catch some of the grayling fish. It took them a while to find the lake. Joseph noticed a shadow behind some of the boulders and he said to his sons: “could be my eyes. Maybe I am mistaken. I do not hear any unusual sounds, but I am tired.
I think it would be best if Sam went home to look after Anna and the family. Martin and I will do the fishing or we will hunt for some food. Sam said, “Are you sure Pop?” Joseph answered, “Sure Sam, you will come along next time”. “But what about bringing along a grayling fish, some wild berries, or some of the wild grasses, or wild mushrooms?” Sam asked. “You know Sam, you have a point. Why don’t you go on ahead of us; put together a fishing pole; and we will join you as soon as we can.” Joseph said. Sam nodded his head and said, “Okay Pop”. Joseph told him, “We are going to circle around and scout the area—maybe look for a rabbit or two.”
Sam hurried along, but was aware that his father had seen a shadow. He asked himself the question, “What could the shadow have been? If the shadow were Nazis, they would have shown themselves. They would have come. They would have shot us. They would have shouted at us. They would have rounded us up. If it were a pack of wolves, you would have heard some howling? It simply has to be someone or something else.
Sam rounded the bend like a wild wolf in a hurry. When he first saw the lake, he stopped with a halt of his shoes-----making his feet a little tired from the bumpy terrain. He was simply startled by the beauty of the lake----its medium blue color which was mixed in with splashes of white waves and gray and brown rocks, halting its path upwards to the main channel of the river. There in front of him was the sight of a treasure: a Jerusalem of its own----perhaps not the wonder of religion or the revelation of its spirits, but it was the essence of the phenomena of nature and creation.
Sam breathed in heavily, while thinking of the wonder for he knew that he saw with his eyes a visualization and perception, a Devine perfection in the formation of the lake-----its color, its ripples and the water rushing over rocks; the algae living under the surface; the wild grasses that thrived and seemingly understood what was going on with all the surrounding habitat. The lake was surrounded by sandy terrain where frogs hopped; grasshoppers looked for ants; and other bugs searched for their prey; beetles encroached up and down, and in and out of the top of the surface of the soil, making the soil soft, rich fodder for the distant seeds of wild flowers that blew from yonder and landed on the sandy shores of the lake. Inch worms inched their arched bodies back and forth, back and forth, making strides to their destinations which lay somewhere in the middle of the woods.
Within the spotted, sandy openings throughout the fertile fields, the tall grasses grew and surrounded, easily, the perimeters of the lake. Sam could see someone had left a box and a long fishing pole. Sam used the fishing pole and dug for his own worms, and fished for a grayling fish. It was not long before there was a jerk on the line of the fishing pole. Sam knew to outwit the grayling, but it was one thing to know how and ikt was another to actually outwit the grayling. Sam took it slow and steady. He let the grayling get tired out. When he felt it was the right time, he moved back on the sandy shore very slowly, but held onto the fishing pole with a tight grip. He knew that he would probably have to go into the water to hit the grayling over the head with the pole to stop it from fighting him; it was just a question of time; he was going to wait and see; he pulled at the line, and the fish did not show that much resistance so he knew that it was time. Sam could see the head of the grayling fish swimming close to the surface of the water. Sam could see that the fish was struggling on the hand-made hook, but then it was trying to dive back into the deep water. Sam thought, “If only I can run in and catch the grayling. A thought immediately popped into his mind: eating the fish with some mushrooms and berries for he had begun to like the taste of the food that the forest had to offer. Suddenly, he decided to jump into the water with each and every burst of strength that he had, and he did. He swam towards the weakening grayling fish. He could see the grayling fish dead straight just a few feet ahead. He pushed the waves away one hand at a time. He increased the flapping of his feet and his speed increased. He grabbed the grayling. The fish wiggled and it wiggled, but Sam knew to hurry back to the shore and he did. He flopped the fish down on the ground and he leaned his hands on his knees and shook the water from his hair a few times and then he was ready to go back to the cave. He took hold of the grayling fish. He placed the fish right under his right arm. He muttered to himself, “I cannot believe that it is still fighting, wiggling and pushing with its tail to get away, but I have a firm grip on it. Then he said to himself, “This grayling will make a fine supper for my family and me tonight”.
Sam knew he had to alert the others that he was going back to the cave so he hooted his bird call sound twice to tell the others that he was going to the cave. He was on his way to the cave with the fish. He had a meal for Anna and the children and himself. He was proud of himself. He did not know it at the time, but there were two eyes watching him.