Ewa Lowe: Chapter 9


The chapter below is from the sci-fi, triller book Fear is in the Air by Eva Newermann


Sunny Gets What He Deserves

After picking up my rental, I still have one hour before my meeting with Sunny. I park the car in the back of the shack and go inside. There is plywood and some rocks on the floor. I pick up a heavy rock. Yes, this will do. I’ll smash his ugly head.

The wind is really strong now and it has started raining.

I’m wearing my dark wig and some red gloves. My blazer is red too, so the gloves don’t look out of place. 

I sit down on a concrete wall and wait for the crackbrain Sunny to show.

He finally comes stumbling through the door, 15 minutes late. It’s obvious he’s high as a kite already.

“Hey, mon,” he says, with his slurry voice, “it’s raining cats and dogs out there. So you are my little new courier to the mainland?”

More like your burier, moron.

“Could be,” I say, “but we have a lot to discuss. First things first. Do you have some goodies for me?” 

I wave a hundred-dollar bill in front of his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, sure do, baby.” He plummets down next to me while he is taking a plastic bag out of his pocket.

“I got some real good stuff. Just try one of these babies and you will feel like you are on top of the world.” He gives me a little bag containing some pink pills.

“You know what?” I say. “I think I’ll take one right now, just to celebrate this meeting.”

I open my bag and take out the two wine bottles.

“Why don’t you join me?” I say, and hand him a pill and the red wine.

“My, oh my!” He’s laughing. The bottle nearly disappears in his huge hands. “This is the teeny-weeny bottle they serve you on the planes. It’s hardly enough to quench the thirst of a grown man.” He starts unscrewing the red cap. 

“Well, you just have to suffer,” I say, pretending to put a pill in my mouth. I take a swig of my white wine while he is watching. 

“Better than Devil’s piss.” I say.

He shrugs, pops the pink pill in his mouth and then starts drinking his wine, and before you can spell R-O-H-Y-P-N-O-L, it’s all gone.

We are sitting and making small talk. I’m looking into his gritty, ugly brown eyes. 

There is some kind of peace inside me now. Finally, I’m going to get my revenge after all these years.

Slowly he starts tipping over.

“Hey, Sunny, don’t you pass out on me yet!”

I’m on my knees, my face close to his. He is breathing heavily, it looks as if he’s paralyzed.

“Listen, you son of a bitch,” I whisper into his ear, “this is payback for raping me when I was ten years old.”

I put my hands on his head and start to shake it. His eyes are open and I can see a flicker of light.

“Remember back in Little Haiti, where you killed my parents and raped me while my cat was watching!” I’m screaming now.

He is trying to say something but it is all a gurgle, and he starts to vomit.

Good, I hope you choke on your own puke!

I pick up a large rock and hold it in front of his face.

“See this rock? I’m going to smash your sick head with it!”

I hope he still can hear me.

Lifting the rock high over my head and with all the rage, fury and hate inside me, I plunge it into his skull.

There is a cracking noise and blood splatters around him and on me. 

Oh crap!

I’m breathing hard, my nerves raging like the wind tearing the palm trees apart outside. Suddenly it feels as if a low-voltage current is going up and down my spine. It doesn’t hurt. I roll over on my back and stretch my arms out, while I’m staring wide-eyed up at the ceiling –it feels good my body shakes into a dark, strange sensation I’ve never felt before. It’s like I’m being electrocuted from the inside, spinning into an erotic sexual fantasy world. 

I collapse next to him, staring at him, for what seems like forever. 

Will I ever see a brown-eyed man and not remember these dead, dark eyes?

Finally, I can relax. Sunny looks like something out of a bad horror movie, and he is definitely dead. 

This could look like a mugging though, so I empty all his pockets and take his watch. He has a gold chain around his neck and I rip it off.

Then all the plywood goes on top of him, so he is completely covered.

I remove my jacket and slacks and get into my jumpsuit. I’ll change the shoes in the car. Wine bottles, wig, shoes, gloves and clothes will be thrown in different trash bins on my way back to the hotel.

I have stopped shaking now, and feel happy. No regrets. Just damn happy!

The next day, on September 5, 2001, the hurricane Erin hits Bermuda and the impact is devastating. 

As far as I know, Sunny was never found.



The chapter “Sunny Gets What He Deserves” is from the book “Fear is in the Air” by Eva Newermann. Available on Amazon Kindle and Apple Books


Ewa Lowe: Chapter 8


The chapter below is from the sci-fi, triller book Fear is in the Air by Eva Newermann


Sunny: Killer and Rapist

Thank heaven Sunny was no Einstein. He had left his DNA and prints all over the house. It took the police only a short time before he was arrested. His rap sheet was as long as from here to the Moon. It was mostly car thefts and misdemeanors.

Born in Bermuda, he came to the U.S. as a teen. He joined one of the local criminal gangs. They went by the cute name “Piss on You,” which they all had tattooed in red from the navel down.

He told the police he had kicked our dog out of the house. Later we learned Killer had been hit by a car and killed.

After he was arrested everything went wrong. Sunny got a brilliant young lawyer.  

He used all the tricks in the book to get his client off easy. It must have been a mock court. To make a long story short, after two years in and out of court, Sunny was sentenced to only 12 years in prison. When he had served his sentence he was deported to Bermuda.

 I kept close tabs on him all this time. 

He was not getting away that easy.

James and I are now living with Lillian and Dexter, on Galt Ocean Drive, Fort Lauderdale, Florida. 

We had been in therapy for years. My brother and I did as well as could be expected after the traumatic event. We had made a pact: if we ever were in any danger and couldn’t speak freely, we would use the names Evita and Jimmy for ourselves. That would raise a “red flag,” alerting that something was very, very wrong.

Lillian was a wonderful person. She reminded me so much of my mom. The only sad thing, she had gatophobia, a fear of cats, so I had to find a new home for Pussy Galore.

I was still mad and unhappy. Sunny had to get what he deserved. 

Every night I would lie in my bed fantasizing how to kill him.

I’ve had many years to plan Sunny’s death. Still, I didn’t know how I’d do it. I only knew he should suffer, and that before his last breath he should know who I am.

I had been keeping track of him in Bermuda. He was now a drug dealer living in a shack in the capital city Hamilton. When I started working for Star Gaze Airline we also had layovers in Hamilton.

Flying to Bermuda four times already, I had been very busy. Every time I was in Hamilton, I would put on my dark wig and some shabby clothes, then I would drive to the area where Sunny was working. 

I had befriended a prostitute named Venus. She was heavily into drugs and was one of Sunny’s best customers.

I pretended I was a user, too, so Venus would get me drugs. That way I avoided meeting Sunny face to face.

Last time I saw Venus she told me Sunny was looking for a courier for the mainland. I told her I might be interested because I was deeply in debt and was getting desperate. I told her my lie with tears in my eyes.

“Give me Sunny’s phone number and tell him I will call him. I’m going back to Miami tomorrow but maybe next time I can talk to him.”

Venus promised to deliver the message.

I went back to the car and drove around for an hour. I was looking for an abandoned house or some remote place where I could lure Sunny to meet me later.

Finally I found a shack not far from his house.

It was an abandoned house close to the beach, nobody was living next to it. Outside there was a sign in red and white saying, ‘Beer and Liquor,’ so it probably had been a shop.

Farther down on Front Street, there was a Rent-a-Boat company. It should be easy enough for me to explain to Sunny where to meet.

I also have to figure out how I am going to kill him. He was a hefty guy. How would I immobilize him? Of course, getting caught was not an option, so I had to have a good plan.

If it was up to me I would like to knock his block off with a sledgehammer!

Cut his dick off and feed it to the fishes!

I could make him an invalid and bedridden for life.

Gouge his eyes out.

Drive over him with a car, the way my dog, Killer, died.

I could slit his throat, like he did with my parents.

The list goes on and on. Nothing is good enough for that son of a bitch (pardon my French).

After returning my rental, I was very exhausted. 

There was a bar close to the hotel, and a drink was just what this doctor ordered.

“Give me the craziest, weirdest drink you’ve got,” I say to the bartender, and jump onto one of the high chairs.

“Oh, mon, you be very difficult customer,” he says in his unique Bermudian accent.

He disappears through the back door and I can hear some yelling and screaming. Finally he returns with a big grin on his face. In a small glass are two cockroaches crawling. He takes a whiskey bottle and water bottle and pours both simultaneously into the glass.


“Now see, that is an unusual drink for you, blond flicka,” he says loudly.

The other guy in the back, a young boy, is staring big-eyed at us.

I pick up the glass, the bartender and the boy start yelling: “No! No! No!

“Yes, Yes, Yes!” I’m laughing, and my lower lip just touches the rim of the glass. I put the glass down.

“OK, OK, ten points to you. Just give me a Cuba Libre, easy on the Coke!” I put my elbows on the bar disk, cupping my head in my hands.

The bartender takes the cockroaches glass and gives it to the boy. He disappears fast. 

I feel pretty good when I leave the bar with the amusing name, Robin Hood. Is the bartender giving free drinks to the poor?

I’m dreaming that the phone is ringing and I’m hitting it over Sunny’s head to make it stop.

Suddenly I’m awake, the phone is ringing.

“Yes, and what time is it?”

“Sorry to wake you this early, Ewa, it’s seven.” I hear the familiar voice of the captain.

“We have a problem. There is a storm coming in fast. It’s already a tropical storm named Erin and it will be a hurricane soon. So it looks like we’ll not be able to go back to Miami today. I will keep you posted, but if you don’t hear anything from me by noon, we’re stuck here.”

I look out the window. The palm trees are swaying and I can see clouds building up on the horizon.

On TV the weather channel is showing the predicted path of the hurricane, and it’s coming straight at us. They are telling us it will make a direct hit in two or three days.

The hurricanes are rated from one to five, five being the strongest. Erin could become a three or four, something very devastating for Bermuda. Most of the houses are not built to withstand strong winds. The hotel, on the other hand, is built solid and should be safe enough.

Outside there is debris starting to fly all over the place.

The anchor on TV has been telling everybody to stock up on food and water for days now. The stores are already getting low on bottled water.

I go back to bed and lie staring up at the ceiling.

Could this be a sign showing me how to kill Sunny?

If I could meet him in the abandoned house on Front Street, the one with the Beer and Liquor sign, then, immobilize him, I could kill him in a way that would look like an accident. Maybe it would look like the hurricane was the killer? A hurricane, category three or four, would destroy everything around here and he probably wouldn’t be found for a long time, if ever.

My head is spinning.

I always have my Rohypnol pills with me. If I put some in a wine bottle, and he drinks it, he will collapse soon after.

It is midday and there is still no call from the captain.

I call the prostitute Venus. I‘ve told her my name is Nikita. 

The cell phone I’m using I’ll throw away later, so no one can trace my calls.

Yes, Sunny was around and yes, she had told him I would call, one of these days.

When dialing Sunny’s number, my hand is shaking.

After five or six rings he answers.

“Hey, Sunny,” I say, “this is Nikita, a friend of Venus’.”

“Oh, yeah, she mentioned you,” his voice is still a little high-pitched, the way I remembered.

“Well,” I say, “maybe we can get together and talk some business? But it has to be before the hurricane hits. What about tomorrow?”

“Sure,” he says. “Do you know your way around here?”

“Yes, I have a car, but I don’t want to meet in a public place. Do you know the Rent-a-Boat place on Front Street? Right down the street from it is an abandoned house, with a Beer and Liquor sign. Can we meet there at 12 o’clock? And please bring some goodies. My nerves need something before the hurricane hits.”

He coughs, laughs and agrees. We hang up.

My whole body is shaking and I open a small bottle of wine. I don’t bother with a glass, but drink it straight down. Then I go back to bed and sleep for three hours.

I order room service and call the car rental. They tell me I really shouldn’t be driving in the storm, but I tell them I have to visit a very sick friend.

Well, at least “sick” is true.

In the evening the whole crew has dinner together in the hotel.

They all talk about hurricane Erin. All I can think of is the bastard Sunny. I excuse myself and leave early.

I have a restless night. So do the palm trees outside. The howling winds are accelerating by the minute. 

On TV the next morning they have upgraded Erin to a category three hurricane, and it’s still heading straight for us.

I find my stash of small wine bottles; two red and one white.

They never check our bags when we go through security and it’s common knowledge that the crew takes some bottles of wine and liquor whenever we leave a flight.

The wine bottles have screw corks and I open one of the red ones.

How many Rohypnol tablets should I put in it? I have read many stories in the newspapers about how girls have their drinks spiked and get raped not remembering a thing, but they never say how many tablets it takes.

I put six tablets into the bottle. I sure hope Sunny is very, very thirsty.


I put the bottle together with a white wine bottle in a bag, followed by a jumpsuit, shoes, socks, gloves and my wig.

Did I forget something? Oh, yes, a large knife in case I have to stab him to death, for good measure!

I feel that the storm outside is now inside me.


The chapter “Sunny: Killer and Rapist” is from the book “Fear is in the Air” by Eva Newermann. Available on Amazon Kindle and Apple Books

Planet of the Month: Saturn



Saturn – Acrylic painting by Eva Newermann


Saturn is the second largest planet in our Solar System and is about 800 times larger than Earth.

Saturn takes approximately 29.5 years to orbit our Sun. Currently, there have been 62 moons found around Saturn.

Saturn has the second largest moon in our solar system. It’s called Titan. 

Titan is the only object in space other than Earth where clear evidence of stable bodies of surface liquid has been found.



Saturn er den nest største planeten i vårt solsystem, og er omtrent 800 ganger større enn Jorda.

Saturn bruker omtrent 29.5 år på runden rundt Sola. Det er foreløpig funnet 62 måner rundt Saturn.

Saturn har den nest største månen i solsystemet vårt. Den heter Titan. 

Det er den eneste månen i solsystemet som har en atmosfære med skyer og regn.


The Universe a Work of Art

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

Ewa Lowe: Chapter 7


The chapter below is from the sci-fi, triller book Fear is in the Air by Eva Newermann


September 13, 1988


It’s a Tuesday. My younger brother, James and I are coming home from school. I’m ten years old and he is eight. We are both excited because Daddy is going to be home today. He has been away on a business trip, we haven’t seen him for two weeks.

I feel something is wrong when I open the door. No Killer welcoming us home, no delicious smells or Mom calling out from the kitchen.

“Mommy? Daddy?” I call out.

“Mommy! Daddy!” I hear a high-pitched voice mimicking me, suddenly a huge black man appears and slaps duct tape over my mouth. A large black garbage bag is pulled over my head and body. He uses duct tape to wrap me up like a package.

James is screaming; “Let her go! Let her go!”

I am thrown on the sofa. I can hear James is getting the same treatment as me.

Trying to get up, I roll off the sofa and hit the floor hard. I can hear a door slam. Then footsteps back to me.

He lifts me up and I’m carried upstairs and tossed on the bed. I hear heavy breathing. Scissors start to cut the plastic away from my face.

I ‘m crying, scared to death.

His big, nearly black eyes are staring into mine. The sweat from his face is dripping down onto my face, mixing with my tears

He reaches out and I hear a zipper noise. Next to the bed on a chair is Pussy Galore in her pet carrier. He has opened the carrier and is dragging her out.

“Stop crying. I am going to hurt you,” he says with a grin. Pussy Galore is hissing and fighting to get loose.

I cry even harder.

“OK,” he says, “do you love your cat?” Now he is dangling her in front of my eyes. 

“If you are not a good little girl and do exactly as I say, I will strangle your cat.” 

He takes the other hand and puts it around Pussy’s neck. She lets out a low cry and tries to struggle away from his grip.

I draw a deep breath and stop crying.

“That’s better, now I will put your little sweetheart in her cage so you can see her all the time.”

My eyes are glued to Pussy Galore. My body is rigid and I have wet myself.

He takes the scissors and continues to cut open the plastic.

Oh, God, please don’t let him kill my cat! Oh, God, what is he going to do? Why don’t Mommy and Daddy help me?

Now he’s ripping off my panties and spreading my legs. My eyes are still glued to Pussy Galore.

Suddenly I feel a terrible pain, I turn my head back to him, the last thing I see is his big, ugly brown eyes. 

Then everything goes mercifully black.

I wake up and it’s dark outside. I try to move but it hurts. I look down and see blood. I still have duct tape over my mouth. I rip it off and scream. Pussy Galore, trapped in her cage, meows loudly.

Finally I manage to get my feet on the floor and I reach out and open the cage. She jumps out and runs out the door. 

I’m in my parents’ bedroom. “Mommy! Mommy!” I’m crying.

I hear a banging noise. The noise is coming from the closet underneath the stairs. 

Later – It seems like forever – I manage to get downstairs.

When I open the closet door, I see James in a black trash bag with duct tape all around it. There is an opening for his eyes. He’s crying and gulping for air. I drag him out into the hallway.

“I will help you. I will help you,” I repeat, over and over again, while I try to get the bag off him.

Finally, I manage to get his head free and I pull the duct tape off his mouth. He is screaming at the top of his lungs, “Mommy!”

I’m shaking all over but manage to stagger into the kitchen. Mom and Dad are lying in a pool of blood. Their throats are cut. I start shaking even more uncontrollably and run out of the house screaming. 

Inside my head a nursery rhyme is howling.

Lizzie Borden took an axe

and gave her mother 40 whacks.

When she saw what she had done

She gave her father 41.


A woman walking her dog catches me just before I faint.


The chapter “September 13, 1988” is from the book “Fear is in the Air” by Eva Newermann. Available on Amazon Kindle and Apple Books

Ewa Lowe: Chapter 6


The chapter below is from the sci-fi, triller book Fear is in the Air by Eva Newermann


Little Haiti, Florida

My parents are dead. A man called Sunny killed them at our home.

I’m happy to say that the Sun doesn’t shine on his brutal face anymore. I killed the bastard.

We lived in Little Haiti in Miami. My dad was a salesman, and on the road a lot. He was a happy man, always with a good story to tell. He never got tired of telling people the story of where my name Ewa came from. This is his story.

“The Boss” (that’s what he used to call Mom) “and I went on our honeymoon to Hawaii.

“One evening we were having dinner next to a woman who was celebrating her 100th birthday. She looked great to be that old and from the white look of her skin and hair, we could tell she was an albino. 

“After a while she invited us over to her table. We all got a glass of champagne and strange things started happening. She took both my hands in hers and it felt like electricity was going through my whole body. 

“She said with a crooked smile. ‘I can feel you are a good person. If you follow my advice, nine months from now you two will have a beautiful baby girl.’ My wife raised her champagne glass, ‘I’ll drink to that!’

“The old lady took out a little silver bottle, put it in my pocket and whispered in my ear, ‘Drink this before you make love tonight.’

“Then she took my wife’s hand. My wife jumped in her seat and I realized she was feeling this weird electricity too. The old lady gave her a silver bottle, the same as mine, then whispered something in her ear; her face got flushed and she laughed.

“The rest of the evening we were all drinking champagne, but I took it easy; after all, I was driving us home that night. 

“The old woman kept ‘charging’ us every half hour and it felt good. 

“When we finally got on our way we were excited and amorous. We saw this beautiful beach and it just seemed like a terrific idea to drink whatever it was in the bottles and imitate Deborah Kerr and Burt Lancaster in ‘From Here to Eternity.’


“The content of the bottles tasted just like water and we kept them.” Now, his finger would point to our bookshelf where we all could see the two mysterious silver bottles standing. 

He continues. “When we left the beach we saw a big sign saying, Ewa Beach – Welcome Back.” At this point Dad would put me on his knee and ruffle my hair, saying, “Nine months later Ewa was born.” 

When I was eight years old we got a kitten and a puppy. Dad, who was a big James Bond fan, named my brother James and the cat, Pussy Galore. The dog, a Doberman, we named Killer.

Dad thought getting a watchdog was a good idea since we lived in a high crime area. 

Yeah, Killer turned out to be a great watchdog. We would know every time somebody approached the house, because Killer would run and hide behind the sofa! Of course, by that time we really loved him, so we couldn’t get a new dog.

Pussy Galore, with her gray and white fur, was my favorite. She liked to sleep in my bed every night. 

My dad was always playing pranks on my mom. The one I remember best happened when she was out one day buying groceries. I guess I was about seven years old.

“Ewa!” my dad called. “Let’s have some fun when mom gets back!”

He came running with a large white sheet and scissors in his hands. He started cutting holes into the sheet. With his red fuzzy curls bouncing up and down on his head, his large eyebrows, also red, he looked like a comical troll to me. 

James joined us. My dad was struggling to get the sheet over his head.

“Ewa, get me the biggest kitchen knife you can find!”

He pulled one of the kitchen chairs close to the front door. 

When I handed him the huge knife, all we could see was his green eyes, sparkling through the holes in the sheet. He jumped up on the chair and the sheet was so long it reached all the way down to the floor.

“Mom should be back any minute now,” he whispered. “Let’s just hope she hasn’t bought anything that will break, because she will be so spooked she’ll drop everything.”

I could hear him clucking behind the sheet. 

Suddenly there were footsteps on the porch. When they stopped outside the door, my dad threw open the door, with the large knife raised high over his head he screamed, “ARRGHHH!”

Outside, two nuns, in their black and white habits and bearing a collection cup, started screaming louder than my dad. 

Their tin cup went flying into the air. All the coins were scattered when the cup hit the porch. They started running, still screaming, down the road. 

My dad, now down off the chair, lifting the sheet around his waist, knife still in hand, was yelling: “Wait! Wait! This is not what it looks like!”

He was waving the knife, running after them.

“Come back! Come back! I’ll give you some money!”

The screaming nuns turned a corner. My dad stumbled and fell. James and I were standing there paralyzed, openmouthed, on the porch, not believing our eyes.

Of course, this story was told, repeatedly, down through the years. My mom would always shake her head and tell my dad how erratic he was, but she would be cracking a smile, too. 

My dad did finally track down the nuns. He apologized and donated some money to their church.


The chapter “Little Haiti, Florida” is from the book “Fear is in the Air” by Eva Newermann. Available on Amazon Kindle and Apple Books

Ewa Lowe: Chapter 5


The chapter below is from the sci-fi, triller book Fear is in the Air by Eva Newermann


Fort Lauderdale, Florida – Family

My mom’s sister Lillian and her husband, Dexter, lived on Galt Ocean Drive, in Fort Lauderdale. Every summer my brother and I spent three weeks at their place swimming and surfing. 

On the first floor of their apartment building there is a cinema, a game room and an indoor swimming pool.

They were quite wealthy as they used to own a chain of restaurants called The Big Bang. You can find these restaurants in all the states and they specialize in chicken dinners.

Below the flashing lights from the Big Bang sign you can read, “Give your taste buds an out-of-this-world experience.”

Lillian used to spend a lot of time in the head office, which was in one of the Twin Towers at the World Trade Center in New York.

Every year there is an Air and Sea Show in Fort Lauderdale. Millions of people attend, from all over the world. The beach, which goes on for miles and miles, is packed with festive people. They bring food, barbecue grills, chairs and parasols. It is the biggest beach party ever.

From Lillian’s penthouse apartment on the 15th floor, we used to have a spectacular view; from there people looked small to us, like ants. 

Lillian and Dexter were hobby astronomers. They had a large telescope on the balcony. We sat for hours in the evenings looking up at the sky. This is where my brother, James, got very interested in everything that had to do with the universe and got him interested in studying astronomy in school. 

Lillian bought us an easel, canvases and a whole box of acrylic paints. James and I had so much fun making huge paintings of planets, stars and moons.

When the Air Show started we would always have the best seats in town. Some of the airplanes were even flying below the balcony. We could almost see the white in the pilot’s eyes! 

There are fantastic acrobatic flight demonstrations with US Air Force jets. Many different airplanes covering the skies, and the US Coast Guard demonstrating air and sea rescue.


I was only seven years old when I was at my first Air and Sea Show. Gazing in awe at all the fantastic planes. The Navy’s Blue Angels, a six-plane flying team, especially dazzled me and everybody else with their fantastic stunts. 

I think it was around that time my love for airplanes started and I decided to become a flight attendant. 



The chapter “Fort Lauderdale, Florida – Family” is from the book “Fear is in the Air” by Eva Newermann. Available on Amazon Kindle and Apple Books

Ewa Lowe: Chapter 4


The chapter below is from the sci-fi, triller book Fear is in the Air by Eva Newermann


The Pulpit Rock


I pick Erik up at five o’clock. I’m glad to see he’s dressed in his camouflage hunting suit. I’m wearing black slacks, a black jacket, sneakers and I‘ve tucked my hair into a dark green knitted hat. We should both be hard to spot against rocks and trees.

“Hi,” he says, “do you know how to get there?”

“Yes,” I smile, “thanks to Google.”

“First we have to take the ferry to Tau and then it should be a 15-minute drive to the Lodge.”

“Correct,” he says, “I have been to the Pulpit many times. It’s a beautiful hike from the Lodge, but it takes about two hours to reach the Pulpit Rock. The trail is marked all the way so we can’t get lost.”

“Oh, that sounds great,” I say.

“I have never been there,” I lie. I have been there twice. “My dream is to see the sunset while sitting and dangling my feet over the edge of the Pulpit. I’ve seen pictures of people doing that.”

Erik is smiling, “So I presume you don’t have vertigo, fear of heights?” 

I laugh. “Actually, it’s called acrophobia. Vertigo is more like dizziness. No, I don’t have any problems with heights, I’m up there all the time, remember?”

I follow the yellow signs reading Tau Ferry and drive onboard.

“Let’s just stay in the car on the way over,” I say.

No need letting too many people see us together.

Erik looks relieved. He points to a big sign in Norwegian. “This sign says we are not allowed to stay in the car.”

“Don’t worry, if anybody comes I will do the talking and tell him or her that I don’t read Norwegian.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to go and buy you a cup of coffee?” he asks.

I reach back over the seat and get my backpack.

“I don’t drink coffee, but see. I’m always prepared.”

I pour hot chocolate into two cups.

“I even have some sandwiches we can eat later.”

He nods and says, “We might have a problem seeing the sunset. After we check in and get settled, it will be too late to go to the Pulpit, since we can’t go back in the dark.”

I reach into the backseat again. “Hakuna matrata, as they say in Swahili. Which means, don’t worry.”

I show him two coal miners flashlights, the kind the coal miners have on their heads.

“Didn’t I say that I’m always prepared?” I grin.

He shakes his head in disbelief. 

“OK,” I say. “I haven’t come this far not to see my sunset! What if we just park the car, walk to the Pulpit and then walk back and check into the Lodge for some fun. Does that sound like a plan to you?”

Little do you know that I have bigger plans for my Viking than a roll in the hay.

Erik throws his arms up. “How can I argue with a plan like that?”

We drive off the ferry and follow the brown sign saying Preikestolen. Every turn has spectacular scenery. Norway must be the most beautiful country in the world with its deep fjords, high mountains and majestic forests.

We pass another sign saying Preikestolen. 

“Look,” I point at the sign. “If we park here and walk, we can probably save some time.”

Erik agrees. The Sun is shining and I put on some big sunglasses and my backpack. Erik also has a small backpack. 

On our way we meet many tourists. Everybody is going in the other direction, back to the Lodge. 

 Good, I sure hope when we get there we will be alone. 

After two hours of fast walking the Sun is getting close to setting. I wonder if we are going to make it. Fifteen minutes later we see the Pulpit Rock. What a sight! The fjord is about 600 meters beneath us. 

Erik puts his backpack down. “Are you sure you’re ready to do this?” he asks.

I nod and take his hand. We walk to the edge very carefully. Then we sit down and swing our legs over the edge.

The Sun is setting. We are the only two people there. 

Erik draws a breath “Wow! Do you know it is 604 meters straight down, isn’t this the most fantastic view in the world?”

Truly a view to die for. 

“Yes,” I say, “and the view gets even better the closer you get.” 

Before he can react, I slide myself backwards, behind him, put my feet on his lower back and kick him as hard as I can. He tumbles over the edge of the Pulpit Rock.

I peer over the edge. He is spread-eagled, flying down faster and faster.

“Have a nice flight,” I whisper.


There is no sound coming from him. He has probably fainted from fear. He bounces off the rock wall.

Ouch! That must have hurt!

He continues to fall and finally, I can’t see him anymore.

Swift and deadly! One less Viking in this world, his wife should probably thank me.

I lie down on my back –arms out –crucifixion position, just like I did after killing my Pharaoh. 

I can feel a current rippling through my body. The tingling sensation feels like reaching a climax after a strenuous sex act. My whole body is shaking and I feel as if I’m going to black out. I close my eyes and gasp for air. 

The whole sensation probably lasts only for a minute, but the aftereffect leaves me lightheaded and hungry! I sit up, dig into my backpack and gulp down my cocoa and sandwiches. 

Afterwards I put his backpack inside mine and start walking back to the car. Half an hour later, I stop and take out his backpack. Then I throw it, using all my strength, far into a deep ravine. 

Where no man has gone before and probably never will.

The Sun has set and it’s getting dark. I have to use my coal miners headlights to find my way back. 

Because of the difficult terrain it takes me two and a half hours to reach the car.

I have of course not made any reservations at the Pulpit Lodge. Nobody knows I’m here.

 I drive back to the ferry heading for Stavanger.

On the ferry I go into the ladies’ room. In the trunk of my car I have a bag of Sunday clothes and I put them on. I even pin a red, white and blue bow to the lapel of my jacket. That way I look like everybody else celebrating the 17th of May.

When I get back to my hotel it’s filled with intoxicated people. 

These Vikings sure know how to party. 

Nobody notices me going to the elevator.

I jump in the shower and crash into bed, I sleep like a baby through the night.

The next day we are off again, this time heading for home: Florida, USA.



The chapter “The Pulpit Rock” is from the book “Fear is in the Air” by Eva Newermann. Available on Amazon Kindle and Apple Books

Ewa Lowe: Chapter 3


The chapter below is from the sci-fi, triller book Fear is in the Air by Eva Newermann


Stavanger – Norway

x 03-F

We are booked into the Atlantic Hotel in downtown Stavanger. The lobby is filled with flags and flowers.

My room overlooks a small lake called Breiavatnet. There is a lighted fountain in the middle. Everywhere there are hundreds of flags blowing in the wind. The Norwegian flag has the same colors as the American flag, red, white and blue, so this is just like the Fourth of July.

I wait two hours before I call Erik. He picks up the phone right away.

Probably been sitting staring at it. 

“Hi, when can we meet?” He asks.

“Well,” I pause. “I’ve been thinking. Tonight is no good. I’m too tired. Tomorrow I’ll have a car for two days. Last time I was here, three years ago, I heard about the Pulpit Rock. I am planning to stay at the Pulpit Lodge tomorrow evening. I have already booked a room. What if I pick you up in the afternoon and we drive up there. Will that work for you?”

I can hear some heavy breathing.

“Sure, that sounds great. I have to spend some time with my relatives during the day,”

Right, probably his wife and five kids…

He continues, “But after that, I’m all yours.”

The next morning, May 17, 2003, I wake up with a start. It’s only 6 in the morning. It sounds like the hotel is being bombed. I run to the window. Outside is a red bus filled with young people, wearing red hats and red jumpsuits. 

Farther down the street I see a blue bus and people dressed in blue. They are setting off firecrackers, blowing whistles and honking their car horns. Some are dancing and singing.

Later on I’m told these are college kids, celebrating their graduation as well as May 17, the day when Norway became independent from Sweden in 1814.

This red and blue gang also drives around to all their teachers’ private houses, waking them up at 5 in the morning.

At 9 in the morning, the parades start all over the country. Every school has its own band playing. It’s like an explosion in colors. They are wearing beautiful national costumes, called bunad, usually with gorgeous jewelry and handmade needlework. 

Everybody is waving flags and shouting in Norwegian.

“Hurra, hurra, hurra for Syttende Mai!”

In Oslo at the Royal Castle, the Royal Family will be on the balcony for hours, waving to all the children parading by.

All day and evening there is small and large celebrations with family outings and different activities. There are shows with famous and infamous people performing.

This is the time you have your first ice-cream cone outdoors, even though it’s still cold in Norway.

I went outside and had an ice-cream cone with two scoops, strawberry and vanilla, topped with whipped cream and a teaspoon of strawberry jam. Terrific!

At noon three other crew members and I go to one of the maritime restaurants surrounding the harbor. 

In the old days these warehouses used to store corn, fish and flour. Inside, the furniture is made out of rough timber and all the lamps are lanterns from old sailing ships. In the ceiling hang large fishnets and green glass buoys. 

“Give us the most unusual dish you have on the menu.” I tell the waitress. 

The captain raises both arms; “Oh, I don’t know if that’s a good idea, Ewa.” 

I grin at him, “Don’t be such a pussy!”

The waitress looks at me for a while and then speaks. “Do you care how much it costs, or how long it will take to prepare?”

“No,” I say with a smile, “just bring us wine and water and surprise us.”

Five minutes later the waitress returns.

“I just have to give you some information about the food you are getting,” she says smiling.

“We usually eat it only before Christmas time. It was a traditional dish for the West coast, but today it has become a delicacy all over Norway.

“Some people think it’s a bizarre tradition, but I can reassure you, it tastes really good!

“However, I would recommend instead of wine that you drink some beer and aquavit before we serve you.”

We are all listening, more or less worried. What’s this all about?

“I warned you earlier,” the captain says, “we should not let Ewa order her bizarre food!”

Turning to the waitress, he says, “Can you tell us the name of this dish?” 

Smalahove,” she says, very slowly.

“Smalahove,” we all repeat, looking at each other.

It doesn’t mean a thing to us.

“Bring the beer and aquavit.” I say.

They don’t know I’m driving to the Pulpit Rock with my Viking later in the afternoon. So I’m just going to pretend that I’m drinking. They have very strict rules in Norway for DUI.

Finally, after 45 minutes, the food arrives. By then everybody is feeling the effects, from the beer and aquavit.

Four waiters are carrying huge plates with silver lids.

When they put them in front of us, we all wait and then take the lids off simultaneously.

“Oh, my God!” 

Lying on the plate, staring up at me, is half a sheep’s head! Complete with an eye and a tongue sticking out! It is dark brown and looks as if it has been grilled before being cooked.


Later I learn that they burn the wool off the head.

There are potatoes and cabbage stew to go with it. The waiters keep assuring us it tastes really good.

“You are supposed to eat the eye last, like a dessert,” our waitress is giggling. 

When we all get our breaths back, I start tasting the meat. It is delicious! Now we all start eating.

“Skaal, Skaal for Smalahove and the aquavit!”

“See, I told you to trust me,” I say to the captain.

He shakes his head. 

“Ewa, you are some crazy, crazy lady!”

Right on the money, buddy!



The chapter “Stavanger – Norway” is from the book “Fear is in the Air” by Eva Newermann. Available on Amazon Kindle and Apple Books

Planet of the Month: Jupiter



Jupiter – Acrylic painting by Eva Newermann


This shows how small Earth is compared to Jupiter, which is the largest planet in our Solar System.

“The Great Red Spot” you see on the left of Jupiter, is a huge whirlwind (hurricane) that has raged there for over 350 years!

Jupiter has at least 79 moons. One of Jupiters moons, Europa is covered in ice.




Her ser du hvor liten Jorda er i forhold til Jupiter som er den største planeten i Solsystemet vårt.

Den store røde flekken er en virvelstorm som har rast i over 350 år.

Det er til nå funnet 79 måner som går i bane rundt Jupiter.

Den ene månen, Europa, er dekket av is.


The Universe a Work of Art

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

Ewa Lowe: Chapter 2


The chapter below is from the sci-fi, triller book Fear is in the Air by Eva Newermann


Star Gaze Airlines (SGA)


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.




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

Ewa Lowe: Chapter 1


The chapter below is from the sci-fi, triller book Fear is in the Air by Eva Newermann


Egypt – May 16, 2003


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!” 


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.



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

Ewa Lowe & Childhood Trauma



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.