Ewa Lowe: Chapter 2

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Below is Chapter 2 from the sci-fi, triller book Fear is in the Air by Eva Newermann


 

Star Gaze Airlines (SGA)

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We work for an airline named Star Gaze Airlines. I used to work for a big airline, but got an offer I couldn’t refuse. 

SGA offered me more money and longer layovers and we have only first-class passengers. When we fly to Europe we usually have a three-day layover. That means plenty of good shopping and restaurants and of course, for me sometimes, a kill.

I’m slim, with one blue and one green eye, my waist length hair is naturally blonde, I have a light skin tone. I usually blend right in with the rest of the population of the Scandinavian counties.

My uniform is red and white, with a red short jacket and white slacks. It also has a white silk blouse with tiny red stars, red shoes with straps and a little red pillbox hat – the one Jacqueline Kennedy made famous in the ‘60s, designed by Oleg Cassini. The hat has SGA’s star on it and a little wing. My red shoes with straps are special made. All my life I’ve had problems with static electricity so my shoes have crepe rubber soles. This prevents all my handshakes from being a shocking experience. I also have a static shock eliminator that fits on my key chain.

I always wear my little gold airplane necklace around my neck when working.

It’s all topped off with white gloves and “Voila!” 

When I get outside, the rest of the crew is waiting in the limo. This is far better than the buses we had to ride in when working for the big airlines.

Everybody is happy and chatting up a storm.

Suddenly the purser puts his hand under my chin and moves his face close to mine.

“Ewa, let me look in your eyes. You have one green and one blue eye!” he exclaims.

Now everybody is staring at me.

“Yes, yes. I was born with something called full heterochromia. My Dad had green eyes and Mom blue, so here I am with one of each.”

Lovise is nodding. “I once had a cat with different colored eyes.”

“Well,” I grin, “it’s relatively rare in humans, but common in some animals, like cats, horses and dogs. I’m in good company though. David Bowie, Jane Seymour and Keifer Sutherland have different colored eyes, too.”

“Oh,” Lovise says, “I just read an article in a magazine. The scientists say that in 200 years there will be no more blue-eyed people in the world, because brown eyes are so dominant.” She looks around at the other people. No one picks up on her conversational gambit, so she looks back at me.

“Ewa always has so many exciting stories. Why don’t you tell us one of your crazy stories, Ewa?” Lovise asks.

Too bad I can’t tell you what happened this morning, killing my Pharaoh.

“Yes,” I say, “I do have an exciting and scary story to tell. Maybe it will even save your lives one day. 

“This happened when I was in flight training in Kansas City. I had rented a small apartment just ten minutes from the training center. I also had an old car that I used in the evenings to explore the area.

“One day in training the teacher was telling us security procedures and how to get out of difficult situations.

“She said, ‘If you are assaulted or kidnapped, it is very important to keep calm. Try to start a dialogue with your attacker. Tell him your name and other personal things about yourself. Sometimes this can be enough to stop him from hurting you or even killing you. If, on the other hand, you start fighting back, screaming or crying, this will trigger his aggressiveness. So try to stay calm, be inventive, smart and stay safe!’” 

I continue, “Two weeks later, I’m coming home to my apartment very late at night. I park at the curb next to my front door and get out of the car. There are no streetlights, so I don’t see the person jumping me before I feel the cold blade of the knife against my throat. 

“‘Get back into your car,’ he whispers in my ear.

“I feel his breath and long beard against my cheek. I can see he is wearing a black sweater, black slacks and black sneakers. He is not easy to spot in the dark. His skin is light, though and we are the same height. I get back inside the car and my heart and brain are working overtime. 

“My mind starts to race. I need to stay calm and try to remember what the teacher told us. The guy starts pushing my body between the bucket seats. He puts the knife on the console, and with one hand on my throat and the other pulling my dress up, he is trying to get my panties off. This is not easy because he doesn’t have a lot of room to do so. He is panting and the perspiration is running into his dark eyes down his face dripping off his face onto mine. His sweat has a bitter, acrid smell. 

“Finally I find my voice. ‘OK! OK! Take it easy. I will help you get the panties off.’ I’m trying to catch his eyes. My brain is racing. I’m thinking, ‘If I can sit up I might be able to open the door and scream (to hell with my teacher’s advice).’ 

“I have some nosy neighbors, always peeking through the shades. Maybe they will hear me. If they don’t, he will probably kill me. Should I maybe try to kill him with the knife? If I just hurt him and don’t manage to kill him, I’m a dead duck. 

“Anyway, no matter how I look at it, I’m in deep shit! But first of all, I have to be able to sit up. 

“’Listen,’ I say. ‘I’ve got my period and I’m using a tampon. If you are going to have sex with me I have to take out the tampon. Please let me sit up so I can take my panties off. Don’t worry, everything will be OK’

“He stops what he is doing leans back and wipes the sweat off his forehead. ‘OK,’ he says, ‘sit up, but no funny business!’

“’No! No! No funny business.’ I say, pushing myself up. ‘Just fun business and by the way, my name is Ewa.’ He looks startled and in one swipe I grab the knife, open the door and drop the knife under the car, screaming my head off.

“He grabs my neck and starts squeezing, soon we are both purple in the face. Suddenly my neighbor’s face appears inside the car. ‘Get off that girl,’ he yells. ‘I’ve called 911, the police will be here soon. Let her go!’

“My attacker lets go of his grip and scrambles out of the car. He punches my neighbor in the stomach and disappears into the darkness.” 

Just as I say, ‘darkness,’ the lights come on inside the limo. We are at the airport.

“Final destination!” I say.

“Heavens to Betsy!” Lovise blurts out, “Did they ever catch the guy?”

“No,” I shake my head, “I tried picking him out from mug shots, but the guy I said looked like him turned out to be Charles Manson, but he was already in jail.”

We all scramble out of the limo and the captain taps me on the shoulder.

“I’m sure glad it turned out OK for you, Ewa.”

I nod. “Just call me lucky and I hope I’ll never get in a situation like that again.”

“OK, gang.” The purser does a little shuffle, “Are we ready to take on the passengers? And here’s hoping there will be no violence on the plane.” 

Finally we are on the plane and everyone gets busy. I’m in the galley, checking on the food supply.

Only the best is good enough. We have Norwegian salmon, Russian caviar, Caesar salad, filet mignon and lobster (Surf and Turf). For dessert there is cantaloupe with fresh strawberries and whipped cream.

Before takeoff, we serve drinks: Mojitos, Mimosas, or whatever the passengers want.

We are of course using silverware, fine crystal and white linen. No plastic in this house!

The passengers start boarding.

One of the passengers catches my eye. He has beautiful grizzled hair. Unusual, since he is in his late 30s. He’s got big brown eyes and a handsome tanned face.

When he stores his bag, I notice he is wearing a wedding band on his right hand.

We – Americans – wear it on the left hand.

His ugly brown eyes keep following me all the time, when I finally get around to serving him, his wedding band is gone.

OK, so he has removed his ring. The guy is very interested. This could be my next prey.

“Hi, Ewa, my name is Erik.” (He has read my name tag.)

I smile and hold his gaze, just long enough so he knows I’m interested, too.

Later I go over to my gray-haired Viking. I sit on his armrest and get some info.

He lives in Stavanger and next week he is going for an interview as a coach for the local men’s soccer team, called The Vikings.

He loves the outdoors, fishing and hunting.

Interesting…. I’m the one who’s going to hunt you.

“Did you know, tomorrow, the 17th of May, is our national holiday?” he asks.

“Yes,” I smile. 

I always Google the cities and countries we are flying to. I even try to learn some of the language. 

Alt for Norge!” (Everything for Norway) I say, with my American accent.

Erik laughs out loud.

Oh, yeah, I think he’s hooked.

“You know, you look very Scandinavian,” he says.

“Yes, I hear that a lot. My ancestors immigrated from Selbu, Norway, in the 1850s. I think their last name was Storset. One of these days, when I get some free time, I should go there and try to find them.” 

Later, when I serve him, I say, “Skaal! 

He slips me a piece of paper and makes the ‘call me’ gesture with his hand.

Lovise and I are sitting in our seats ready for landing. As usual, when we are flying together she wants me to tell her wacky stories. Things I have experienced on a flight or in different cities.

“Did I ever tell you about the flight with all the priests?”

“No, no, you haven’t,” she’s glowing with anticipation.

“Well, we’re flying from Shannon, Ireland, to New York and the plane is packed with Irish priests. White collars, robes and all. They start ordering Irish whisky and bellowing things like, ‘Guid forder’ (good luck) and ‘Bottoms up!’

“And drink up, they sure did. They were drinking the glasses dry. What I didn’t know, until later, was that many of them had brought their own Devil’s whisky on board. This was before the September 11 attacks, so it was open season to bring almost anything onto the plane. I guess nobody was going to pat down a priest.”

“Oh, my,” Lovise is giggling, “this is going to be good.”

“Right,” I shake my head, “and it gets better.”

“After six hours of heavy drinking, I had a whole plane full of crazy, boozehound priests on my hands. I’ve talked to the captain, but since we are flying over the Atlantic Ocean, there is really nothing he can do. We are just hoping they will all calm down, maybe even pass out.

“Finally the plane lands and the passengers are disembarking. I’m standing in the doorway together with the purser. Suddenly, this enormous priest, his white collar now on top of his red hair, locks his arms around my neck and declares, ‘I’m in love! I’m in love!’

“Now the purser is trying to pry open his hands, but he is not strong enough. He runs to the cockpit shouting, ‘We have a situation here!’

“The captain radios for help. The copilot and purser finally manage to get the priest off me. My face is nearly blue.

“The security guys arrive and handcuff him. They have to carry the priest off the plane. 

“We can hear him babbling, ’I want to marry this angel. No more celibacy for me! Please! Please! Don’t take me away from my angel!’”

Lovise and I are still chuckling when we say goodbye to our passengers. 

When Erik, my Viking, passes me in the doorway, he hands me a postcard “This is one of the things you should see in Stavanger. The giant swords of Hafrsfjord, it’s a monument of three large swords commemorating the battle of Hafrsfjord in the late eight-hundreds where Harald Hårfagre became the first king of Norway.”

“I sure will,” I give him my best smile. 

When we get off the plane it’s evening in Norway and we have landed at Sola airport.

02-L

 


 

Second chapter “Star Gaze Airlines (SGA)” from the book “Fear is in the Air” by Eva Newermann. available on Amazon Kindle and Apple Books

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Ewa Lowe: Chapter 1

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Below is Chapter 1; Egypt, from the sci-fi, triller book Fear is in the Air by Eva Newermann


 

Egypt – May 16, 2003

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The corpse is still nice and warm. His eyes are wide open. 

Actually, he is a nice-looking guy. Too bad he had brown eyes. I hate brown eyes!

My name is Ewa Lowe. I work as a flight attendant. Today is my 25th birthday; of course, I had to celebrate it with a kill. 

It sounds like machine guns letting off several bursts of gun fire, but it’s only the thundering sound of the rain drops hitting my rental car. 

A rainy day is a good time for a kill. Then most of the evidence is washed away, making it difficult for the forensics people.

He is lying on his back in the sand all wet from our skinny-dip. The ocean and rain feel warm on my bare body. The temperature is 26 degrees Celsius. To me, it’s a perfect day in Egypt.

I met the now-dead Pharaoh serving him on my flight last night. He made an easy prey with his black hair, ugly brown eyes and tall, slim body. He told me he was in the middle of a bad divorce. 

That was fine with me. Then he would not tell anybody he is fooling around. Too bad he didn’t know that any brown-eyed guy hitting on me ends up dead.

We agreed that I would pick him up the next day at 11 in the morning, two blocks from my hotel.

I took him to a remote beach I discovered driving around earlier that day.

Amazing how easy it is to lure these men. Even to a beach in pouring rain. Just promise them sex and they follow like lambs to the slaughter.

I gave him Rohypnol, the date rape drug. After the September 11 attacks, the security checks at the airports are tight. I have to hide the drug in my birth-control kit. The pills fit perfectly into the little wheel. Usually the only comment I get from the security guys when they look at it is: ‘Better to be safe than sorry,’ said with a smirk.

I put three pills in the Pharaoh’s wine before our swim. I know exactly how long it will take before he’s paralyzed. The first sign is that he gets groggy, so I get him onshore. He collapses and then I am free to do whatever I want.

In my purse I have some razor blades and latex gloves. After putting on the gloves, I run my fingers through his wet hair and neck. I put his arms on his stomach. Then, I take first his right then his left wrists and cut them, upwards, real deep. 

Wow! Looks like a volcano erupted!

I pull his arms out, so that he is lying in the Jesus crucifixion position. I drop the razor blade on his stomach.

Some of the blood is running down his groin. I get some blood on me, but that is going to be easy to clean, since I’m naked.

After another dip in the ocean I see that life is running out of my Jesus, my Pharaoh. 

“Exsanguination. Isn’t that a beautiful word?” I say it canorously, tunefully. 

I lie down next to him in the sand, in the same position he is in. 

“Exsanguination!” I call out in a singsong voice, “That’s the medical term for bleeding to death.”

I am drifting into something familiar…. A spine tingling desire is running through me. A shiver crawls along my skin. 

Suddenly, it turns into an electric shock, knocking me even deeper down into the sand. This is the trauma of my sordid, secret past, catching up with me. My body shakes and it feels as if I’m going into an aphrodisiac spasm. 

After a while I feel normal again. I look at my dead Pharaoh.

The rain feels good, like Holy Water on my body. Oh, this is so great; it’s giving me goose bumps, or it’s giving me cutis anserine. I like these medical terms. 

They might think it’s a suicide since he is so depressed about his divorce. With some luck he wont be found for 80 hours, then there will be no trace of Rohypnol in his body. 

Hope they have some lousy Horatio Caines here in Egypt’s C.S.I.

I peel off the bloody gloves and stuff them in a plastic bag, then I put on some new gloves. The wine bottles, paper cups and gloves will be thrown into different garbage containers on my way back to the hotel.

I toss his wallet far into the ocean and cover him with some branches; that will probably delay identifying him. 

I will be out of the country this evening. My flight is to Norway. Oh, yes, many tall, blue-eyed guys in Norway. I’m looking forward to that!

I walk 15 minutes to get back to my rental. I always park the car where other cars have been driving, even though in this rain I really don’t have to worry about my foot prints or tire tracks being found.

I’m wearing a dark brown wig it’s soaking wet and I place it in a plastic bag. Well, at least my own hair is dry. A few tosses with my hair, some brushstrokes, a little lipstick and I’m on my way.

Not that I am happy to be on the road with Cairo’s five million people, all driving like maniacs.

Remind me never to rent a car in Cairo again. Driving back to the hotel is a nightmare, I don’t think any of the drivers in Egypt have ever passed a driving test or taken any lessons. Whoever drives fastest, honks his horn the loudest, or screams highest out the car window rules!

To block out some of the noise I plop in my favorite CD and turn the music up, loud. I have had these songs specially made for me. 

Three years ago I met the Norwegian singer and musician Frode and we became friends. I asked him to record a CD containing specific songs. 

I told him the first and the last song on it should be ‘Love is in the air,’ but I had Frode sing the words ‘Fear is in the air.’ ‘Brown-eyed girl’ became ‘Blue-eyed girl.’ ‘Killing me softly with his song’ became ‘Killing you softly with my song,’ and so on. I think you get the picture…. 

So here I am, singing along, driving in crazy Cairo.

I have been in Cairo once before as a tourist. On the agenda then were sightseeing tours to the Valley of the Kings, the Temple of Karnak and the Pyramids of Giza. 

Yesterday I went to the Cairo Egyptian Museum. I wanted to see the golden mask of King Tutankhamen, popularly called King Tut. It was an English archaeologist, Howard Carter, who discovered the tomb in 1922. He had been trying to find it for five years. 

Carter’s father, Samuel, was an artist. He taught Howard to paint and draw. I think we all can be grateful that Howard started excavating instead.

King Tut was born in 1341 B.C. They think, after DNA analysis, that he was probably killed by an infection or malaria, in 1323 B.C.

The museum was packed with people. Everyone was trying to get into the room where King Tutankhamen’s mask was on display. 

We passed a life-sized ebony statue. This statue guarded the treasure room of the tomb. Many people who have been in contact with the tomb have died mysteriously. This phenomena has been called the Mummy’s Curse. Legend has it that anyone who dares to open the tomb will suffer the wrath of the mummy.

My dead Pharaoh suffered the wrath of Ewa. Let’s just hope I don’t get any angry mummy chasing me. 

After an hour in line I could finally gaze at the unique funerary mask of King Tutankhamen. The gold, glass and semiprecious stones glitter in the soft spotlights. It sure was worth the wait. I could probably spend days in the museum and still not be able to see everything. 

I’m staying at a hotel named Mena House Oberoi. What a beautiful place! It’s only a five-minute walk to the Great Pyramids of Giza. My room has a balcony with a breathtaking view of the pyramids. 

Back in 1869, when the hotel was built, it was called Palace Khedives Ismail. It was used as a palace for the prince and his hunting buddies. The hotel is an oasis of elegance and luxury. 

One of the restaurants, Khan El Khalili, has a view of the pyramids. In the evening when the pyramids are illuminated, it’s a sight you will never forget.

When I arrive back at the hotel I meet Lovise and the captain in the lobby. Lovise is our youngest flight attendant. She is a friend of my brother’s wife, Irene and they invited her to their wedding in Las Vegas. Lovise is a hard worker and always in a good mood. I like her a lot. 

She pulls some pictures out of her purse. “Look, Ewa, the pictures you took of me by the pool with the pyramids in the background turned out great!” 

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The captain, already in his snappy uniform, is looking at the pictures too. “Did you know there was this American who had a scam going on to sell the pyramids to the highest bidder?” 

We all start laughing.

“Oh, that’s nothing,” I say, “another American is selling off properties on the Moon, so far he has probably made millions. I thought this was such a clever and fun scam, I sent him my hundred bucks. So now I’m the proud owner of one acre, named Stargate, on the Moon, and I have the deed to prove it!”

“That could only happen in America.” The captain is grinning. “Ewa, we missed you last evening. I tried to call you before we went out for dinner, but this bird has flown, like the Beatles sang.” The captain loves the Beatles. 

I laugh, “Clever of you to quote something from ‘Norwegian Wood,’ since we are flying to Norway today.”

He beams. 

“Sorry I couldn’t join you,” I say, with a smile, “I have some friends in the city and we went out for drinks, but now I have to get dressed. See you in the limo.”

“Do you need any help?” he says, with a wink.

I tick my finger at him, “Naughty, naughty,” and run upstairs.

 


 

First chapter “Egypt May 16, 2003” from the book “Fear is in the Air” by Eva Newermann. available on Amazon Kindle and Apple Books

Drone Image: The Mountain

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Mountain

EnglishMy talented daughter Line Newermann has captured this image showing a mountain close to the end of a fjord in Norway a few hours outside of Stavanger. Do you see the little town at the bottom of the mountain? Norway has mountain ranges all the way from the south to the north of the country.


Norwegian2Min datter Line Newermann, har tatt et drone bilde av et fjell nær enden av en fjord, et par timer fra Stavanger. Ser du den lille bygda i bunnen av fjellet? Norge har fjellkjeder helt fra Sør til Nord i landet.

 

Drone: 3DR Solo, Kamera: GoPro4Black 2k resolution

Ewa Lowe & Childhood Trauma

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Ewa was only 10 years old when she had a traumatic event that would haunt her forever. Her loving cat, Nikita, was of great consolation to her the next couple of years.


 

Link: Ewa Lowe is a woman with a dark past, she is the main character, in the sci-fi thriller: Fear is in the Air.

I will regularly be posting a painting or image from the book, with some hints about what the book contains, here on my blog.

Planet of the Month: Mars

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Mars

Mars – Acrylic painting by Eva Newermann

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A long, long time ago there were volcanoes on Mars that spewed out flowing lava.

The highest volcano is called Olympus Mons and is nearly 25 km high. It has a diameter of 700 km. Denmark has a perimeter of 742 km.

 

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For lenge, lenge siden var det vulkaner på Mars som spydde ut rennende lava.

Den høyeste vulkanen heter Olympus Mons og er nesten 25 km høy. Den har en diameter på 700 km. Danmark har en omkrets på 742 km.

 

The Universe a Work of Art

Monthly facts brought to you from my eBook The Universe a Work of Art.