Kambiri

Kambiri(2)

Compralo en:

Amazon Kindle ebooks: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07FGFSFTS

Amazon versión impresa: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07FGFSFTS

Barnes & Noble, Apple, Kobo y mas librerías: https://www.books2read.com/u/mYo7VP

Descripción:

Esta antología incluye cinco nouvelles con un común denominador: romances entre mujeres afroamericanas y hombres blancos. Son por lo tanto parte del vasto movimiento Swirl. Las historias son las siguientes:

 

Keisha- Un Romance Swirl

Una hermosa mujer afroamericana conoce en Nueva York a un joven extranjero. Un tórrido romance comienza en un ambiente cuyos valores respecto a la aceptación de parejas interraciales están en transformación. La mujer va experimentando en su vida la liberación de ciertos tabúes y va uniendo los fragmentos sueltos de su vida.

La pareja va construyendo su relación venciendo algunas adversidades procedentes de las circunstancias que les toca vivir.

Una nouvelle de actualidad con sagaces introspecciones de actitudes tan arraigadas como inadvertidas.

. Seas hombre o mujer ponerlas a la luz de tu conciencia y de tus deseos tendrá un efecto liberador.

A partir de un noviazgo contemporáneo ingenuo un hombre joven tiene tormentosas relaciones sexuales que involucran episodios eróticos de carácter sadomasoquista. Una muchacha inmigrante afro-colombiana hará lo que haga falta para conquistarlo.

Imposible leer esta novela sin reexaminar tus verdaderas inclinaciones en temas ocultos y profundos.

Nubia

Una red de trata de personas ingresa jóvenes mujeres procedentes de África en Nueva York. Una de ellas escapa y comienza una feroz cacería humana. En la desesperada defensa de su vida la muchacha pone en juego recursos insospechados. La organización de traficantes incluye miembros situados en altas esferas de poder que aprietan el cerco en torno a la joven.

Un vibrante thriller del género noir que te mantendrá en vilo desde su comienzo hasta su dramático final.

 

 Cristelle

Tres inmigrantes negras, una africana y dos haitianas buscan al amor en Buenos Aires, un medio muy distinto al que ellas han conocido. A través de vicisitudes van acercándose a su objetivo con retrocesos y avances. Cristelle es una nouvelle romántica cargada de erotismo, que explora las relaciones amorosas interraciales. Hay dosis de humor y un cierto contenido de episodios paranormales, vinculados con los sistemas de creencias de las muchachas. Una historia agridulce que te encantará.

La Danzarina Tribal

Una muchacha africana prospera en Nueva York con un negocio de flores. Cuando se interesa románticamente por un joven blanco advierte que está bajo la influencia de una dominatrix de tendencias sádicas propietaria de una agencia de escorts. Ambas mujeres lucharán por el hombre con diversas armas que incluyen poderes ocultos, hechizos, encantamientos… y también el asesinato.

 

 

 

Before the Storm

Genre: romantic suspense

Before the storm banner

Find it in: Amazon printed and e books: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07DGV1MBR

 

Prologue

 

When the plane started its takeoff maneuver she closed her eyes because it was the first flight she could remember. When she had arrived in the country with her family she was just a baby and had no memories of that. The girl had fastened her seatbelt and followed literally the instructions of the stewardess and finally managed to contain her nerves when the aircraft took off and gained altitude leaving the city of Buenos Aires behind.

She did not know when she fell asleep but it evidently happened when the nervous tension eased and the muscles of her body relaxed. Upon awakening the thoughts came to her mind in droves. Actually, it was not only the first trip of her adulthood but also her first trip alone and she was going to live in a country with a different society and with unknown rules and habits. Only then did she realize that although it was not her native country, Argentina had absorbed and incorporated her inside its conflictive but strong culture and that leaving that environment was like leaving a soft bed.

She thought of her family, who she had separated from for the first time, of her parents hiding their feelings when they said goodbye, and of her little sister who could not stop crying in the huge hall of the Ezeiza airport. They had promised to go to visit her in six months, so this thought somewhat consoled her.

Then her mind slipped involuntarily to Leandro. When her mind evoked his tall, thin figure, his big clear eyes and his easy smile, her heart shattered. She counted on seeing her family again in a not very long time and in reality she was going to live with some uncles who resided abroad so that this bond was assured. But … would she see Leandro again? Would all the illusions she had woven from their first meeting evaporate in time? Would he wait for her? Would he remember her? For her part, the young woman knew too well that she would never forget the brief and intense romantic experience she had experienced with the young man, in fact the only love experience in her life.

When the stewardess came to bring her the tray with the breakfast the fact took her out of her abstractions and the girl just noticed that her mouth had a bittersweet taste.

The route of the plane appeared on the small screen at the back of the seat before hers and there she could visualize the destination of the flight.

 

 

Antes de la Tormenta

Genero: suspenso romántico.

antes de la tormenta banner

Encuéntralo en : Amazon e boks y versión impresa: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07DBTKRKL

 

Prólogo

Cuando el avión comenzó a carretear cerró los ojos. Este era el primer vuelo del que podía tener memoria. Cuando habían llegado al país con su familia era muy pequeña y no tenía recuerdos. Había abrochado su cinturón de seguridad y seguido al pie de la letra todas las indicaciones de la azafata y por fin logró contener sus nervios cuando la aeronave despegó y ganó altura dejando atrás a Buenos Aires.

No supo en qué momento quedó dormida, pero evidentemente ocurrió cuando al ceder la tensión nerviosa los músculos de su cuerpo se relajaron. Al despertar los pensamientos acudieron a su mente en tropel. En realidad no sólo era el primer viaje de su edad adulta sino también su primer viaje sola e iba a vivir en un país con una sociedad distinta y con pautas desconocidas; recién en ese momento se percató de que aunque no era su país natal, Argentina la había absorbido e incorporado a su cultura conflictiva pero fuerte y que salir de su medio era como abandonar una cama blanda.

Pensó en su familia de quien se separaba por vez primera, en sus padres que disimulaban sus sentimientos al despedirla y en su hermana pequeña que no pudo contener el llanto en la enorme sala del aeropuerto de Ezeiza. Ellos habían prometido ir a verla en seis meses de modo que este pensamiento la consoló.

Luego e involuntariamente su pensamiento se deslizó a Leandro. Cuando su mente evocó su figura alta y delgada, sus ojos grandes y claros y su sonrisa fácil su corazón se estrujó. Contaba con volver a ver a su familia en un tiempo no muy largo y en realidad iba a vivir con unos tíos que vivían en el extranjero de modo que ese lazo estaba asegurado. Pero… ¿Lo volvería a ver a él? ¿Todas las ilusiones que había tejido desde su primer encuentro las evaporaría el tiempo? ¿La esperaría? ¿La recordaría? Por su parte la joven sabía demasiado bien que ella jamás olvidaría la breve e intensa experiencia romántica que había vivido con él joven, en realidad la única vivencia de amor en su vida.

Cuando la azafata vino a traerle la bandeja con el desayuno la sacó de su abstracción y recién noto que su boca tenía un resabio agridulce.

En la pequeña pantalla situada en la parte posterior del asiento de adelante apareció la ruta del avión y allí visualizó el destino del vuelo.

Nueva York la esperaba rodeada de incógnitas que sólo el tiempo podría develar.

An Elegant Lady

Genre: Contemporary romance.

an elegant lady banner

Find it in:  Amazon e-books and printed version: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07D2GL33F

 

Chapter 1

 

Exhausted by the succession of events of the day and in fact of the entire week she had passed in Buenos Aires, the woman placed her small suitcase in the luggage rack located above the line of seats, sat in her place that was located next to the window and anticipating what the hostesses would ask to all passengers put on the seat belt. The seat, located in the tourist class, was very narrow considering that the flight to New York would take nine hours so she decided that at her arrival she would ask her sponsors to take a ticket in the executive category for the following flights, at least for those that exceed certain duration, for example five hours. She thought that this requirement was reasonable since most of her travels were within the United States and therefore shorter.

Following her usual flight anxiety the woman had been one of the first passengers to board and now the rest were entering the narrow aisles of the cabin. The passage consisted of a mixture of Argentines and Americans, the latter in general couples or small groups of elderly people returning from vacations in the distant southern country, wearing striking multicolored print shirts and other garments more appropriate for Miami or Hawaii than for the hectic South American city, whose inhabitants seemed to walk and travel always with a frenetic pace, so different from other Latin American cities the woman had known. The Argentines were distinguishable by their more austere dress and by the amount of packages that they intended to place in the luggage compartments, even forcing their capacity. She begged the seat next to her be occupied by an American; otherwise as she did not speak Spanish that could be a boring and too long trip.

She unwillingly glimpsed a tall, thin youngster who approached watching at the letters of the rows of seats looking for his own. Although at first sight he seemed to be one of the Argentines the lady secretly wished that he would sit next to her, for he was a very handsome young man. She shook her head as if to scare the idea away.

<Lena, he could be … not your son but a much younger nephew. He’s not for you.>

Ignorant of the thoughts that circulated in the woman’s head, the young man stopped in the line where Lena sat, confirmed his location and looked at her smiling.

Hola.” he succinctly said.

“Hello,” replied the woman, furious with herself for not having learned how to respond in Spanish a single word.

The man placed his suitcase in the luggage compartment and sat down on the aisle seat.

“Excuse me. I have seat 14B.” He said in English, much to Lena´s relief who however again reproached immediately herself.

<Do not make absurd ideas.>

The stewardess walked down the aisle where passengers were still struggling with their suitcases, helping them to store them in the upper compartments and close their doors.

Also the young man put the seat belt on and as his legs were too long for the short space between seats he placed them partially in the hallway after the stewardess had passed.

“Very small seats for such long trips.” said in tune with what Lena had been pondering before. Then smiling again, he extended his right hand and introduced himself.

“Federico Gribaudo.”

Lena was pleasantly surprised again by the man’s formal introduction and answered immediately.

“Lena Javit.”

“New Yorker?” It was obvious that the young man named Federico wanted to initiate a conversation. Although the woman had previously the idea of getting asleep as soon as possible to recover the missing sleep hours of the entire week she willingly accepted the disposition of her traveling companion.

“Yes.” she answered. “Born and raised in New York City.”

Once the ice was broken so easily Lena continued the conversation.

“Is this your first trip to the United States?”

“No, I was a couple of times in Miami, but never in New York.”

“You are probably anxious to see the Big Apple. You have a whole world to discover.”

“Yes, I actually know it from family references. My father lived several years in New York when he was a young man and my mother, who was then his girlfriend, visited him … of course all this happened many years ago.”

“Everything in New York has changed a lot and at the same time the city remains the same.”

“My parents came back a couple of years ago for tourism, to visit all the places they had known together so long ago. It was a sentimental trip. They were in front of the building where my father was renting an apartment.”

“Do you know in which area?”

“Yes, in Brooklyn Heights. A historical site. They talked about it a lot.”

“Actually a good place to live.”

To Lena’s delight the conversation flowed pleasantly. Although his vocabulary was somewhat limited and from time to time he needed help from a particular term, Federico spoke English in a very acceptable way with a particular Argentine accent that the woman already knew from her business interviews. His talk showed clearly that he was an intelligent young man.

“And tell me, Federico.” The conversation had already become colloquial. “What other places did your parents tell you about?”

The long list of museums, galleries and other sites ended up convincing Lena that the boy came from a family of good cultural level.

“You want to visit those places?”

“Yes. I’m going to spend a relatively long time in New York.”

“And what other places did your parents tell you about?”

“Let me think … there was a park they were especially fond of …”

“The Central Park?”

“They were not referring to the Central Park. There was a small park, a closed place, to which for some reason they assigned a romantic connotation. I remember seeing pictures of my parents in front of that place.”

“Gramercy Park?” Lena flinched in her seat with her enthusiasm.

“Yes, I think that was the name.”

“But that’s where I live.”

The conversation entered insensibly into slightly more personal matters. Lena tried without much success not to make her interest too obvious.

“What are you going to do in New York? Are you going to settle in the United States?”

“Not for the moment. I will work in the headquarters of my company for six months, which is what the visa I have at present allows.”

“What company is that?”

Federico gave the name of the firm.

“What is this company´s business?”

“Financial services.”

“Are you an expert in finance?

“No, I’m a systems graduate. I’m going to get trained in the systems that the firm uses around the world. In Buenos Aires they have just opened a branch that will be in charge of their business throughout the South America except Brazil.”

“Have you worked with them long?”

“Six months. As I told you, the firm recently settled in the country.”

Lena finally decided to ask the question that was hanging around her mind.

“How old are you?”

“Twenty three.”

It was the approximate age the woman calculated. At that moment the pilot of the aircraft announced the departure of the flight and the stewardesses made a last control to confirm that everything was in order. Immediately the aircraft began its takeoff and it quickly gained in altitude. After it the conversation continued and it was Federico’s turn to ask, which seemed logical to the woman.

“How long have you been in Argentina?”

“Eleven days.”

“Did you like Buenos Aires?”

“I barely had time to get to know it. I had to travel to Rosario, Cordoba and Mendoza. In each place I could only take a bus for sightseeing. And answering your question … yes, I liked a lot what I saw and I have already made the decision to come another time on a private tour.”

La Pianista Japonesa

Genero: Suspenso romántico.

La pianista Japonesa banner

Encuéntralo en:

Amazon e books y edición impresa: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07BZY37KX

Barnes & Noble, Kobo, Apple ibooks, Google y dotras librerías digitales:

books2read.com/u/bQB8L6

Prólogo

Cuando el avión comenzó a carretear cerró los ojos. Este era el primer vuelo del que podía tener memoria. Cuando habían llegado al país con su familia era muy pequeña y no tenía recuerdos. Había abrochado su cinturón de seguridad y seguido al pie de la letra todas las indicaciones de la azafata y por fin logró contener sus nervios cuando la aeronave despegó y ganó altura dejando atrás a Buenos Aires.

No supo en qué momento quedó dormida, pero evidentemente ocurrió cuando al ceder la tensión nerviosa los músculos de su cuerpo se relajaron. Al despertar los pensamientos acudieron a su mente en tropel. En realidad no sólo era el primer viaje de su edad adulta sino también su primer viaje sola e iba a vivir en un país con una sociedad distinta y con pautas desconocidas; recién en ese momento se percató de que aunque no era su país natal, Argentina la había absorbido e incorporado a su cultura conflictiva pero fuerte y que salir de su medio era como abandonar una cama blanda.

Pensó en su familia de quien se separaba por vez primera, en sus padres que disimulaban sus sentimientos al despedirla y en su hermana pequeña que no pudo contener el llanto en la enorme sala del aeropuerto de Ezeiza. Ellos habían prometido ir a verla en seis meses de modo que este pensamiento la consoló.

Luego e involuntariamente su pensamiento se deslizó a Leandro. Cuando su mente evocó su figura alta y delgada, sus ojos grandes y claros y su sonrisa fácil su corazón se estrujó. Contaba con volver a ver a su familia en un tiempo no muy largo y en realidad iba a vivir con unos tíos que vivían en el extranjero de modo que ese lazo estaba asegurado. Pero… ¿Lo volvería a ver a él? ¿Todas las ilusiones que había tejido desde su primer encuentro las evaporaría el tiempo? ¿La esperaría? ¿La recordaría? Por su parte la joven sabía demasiado bien que ella jamás olvidaría la breve e intensa experiencia romántica que había vivido con él joven, en realidad la única vivencia de amor en su vida.

Cuando la azafata vino a traerle la bandeja con el desayuno la sacó de su abstracción y recién noto que su boca tenía un resabio agridulce.

En la pequeña pantalla situada en la parte posterior del asiento de adelante apareció la ruta del avión y allí visualizó el destino del vuelo.

Nueva York la esperaba rodeada de incógnitas que sólo el tiempo podría develar.

Love Affair in New York

Genre: Contemporary Romance

LOve Affair in New York 6

Buy it in:

Amazon Kindle e books:  https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07912VX1W

Apple, Kobo, Barnes & Noble, Scribd and more: https://www.books2read.com/u/mdN9gy

 

Chapter 1

 

Exhausted by the succession of events of the day and in fact of the entire week she had passed in Buenos Aires, the woman placed her small suitcase in the luggage rack located above the line of seats, sat in her place that was located next to the window and anticipating what the hostesses would ask to all passengers put on the seat belt. The seat, located in the tourist class, was very narrow considering that the flight to New York would take nine hours so she decided that at her arrival she would ask her sponsors to take a ticket in the executive category for the following flights, at least for those that exceed certain duration, for example five hours. She thought that this requirement was reasonable since most of her travels were within the United States and therefore shorter.

Following her usual flight anxiety the woman had been one of the first passengers to board and now the rest were entering the narrow aisles of the cabin. The passage consisted of a mixture of Argentines and Americans, the latter in general couples or small groups of elderly people returning from vacations in the distant southern country, wearing striking multicolored print shirts and other garments more appropriate for Miami or Hawaii than for the hectic South American city, whose inhabitants seemed to walk and travel always with a frenetic pace, so different from other Latin American cities the woman had known. The Argentines were distinguishable by their more austere dress and by the amount of packages that they intended to place in the luggage compartments, even forcing their capacity. She begged the seat next to her be occupied by an American; otherwise as she did not speak Spanish that could be a boring and too long trip.

She unwillingly glimpsed a tall, thin youngster who approached watching at the letters of the rows of seats looking for his own. Although at first sight he seemed to be one of the Argentines the lady secretly wished that he would sit next to her, for he was a very handsome young man. She shook her head as if to scare the idea away.

<Lena, he could be … not your son but a much younger nephew. He’s not for you.>

Ignorant of the thoughts that circulated in the woman’s head, the young man stopped in the line where Lena sat, confirmed his location and looked at her smiling.

Hola.” he succinctly said.

“Hello,” replied the woman, furious with herself for not having learned how to respond in Spanish a single word.

The man placed his suitcase in the luggage compartment and sat down on the aisle seat.

“Excuse me. I have seat 14B.” He said in English, much to Lena´s relief who however again reproached immediately herself.

<Do not make absurd ideas.>

The stewardess walked down the aisle where passengers were still struggling with their suitcases, helping them to store them in the upper compartments and close their doors.

Also the young man put the seat belt on and as his legs were too long for the short space between seats he placed them partially in the hallway after the stewardess had passed.

“Very small seats for such long trips.” said in tune with what Lena had been pondering before. Then smiling again, he extended his right hand and introduced himself.

“Federico Gribaudo.”

Lena was pleasantly surprised again by the man’s formal introduction and answered immediately.

“Lena Javit.”

“New Yorker?” It was obvious that the young man named Federico wanted to initiate a conversation. Although the woman had previously the idea of getting asleep as soon as possible to recover the missing sleep hours of the entire week she willingly accepted the disposition of her traveling companion.

“Yes.” she answered. “Born and raised in New York City.”

Once the ice was broken so easily Lena continued the conversation.

“Is this your first trip to the United States?”

“No, I was a couple of times in Miami, but never in New York.”

“You are probably anxious to see the Big Apple. You have a whole world to discover.”

“Yes, I actually know it from family references. My father lived several years in New York when he was a young man and my mother, who was then his girlfriend, visited him … of course all this happened many years ago.”

“Everything in New York has changed a lot and at the same time the city remains the same.”

“My parents came back a couple of years ago for tourism, to visit all the places they had known together so long ago. It was a sentimental trip. They were in front of the building where my father was renting an apartment.”

“Do you know in which area?”

“Yes, in Brooklyn Heights. A historical site. They talked about it a lot.”

“Actually a good place to live.”

To Lena’s delight the conversation flowed pleasantly. Although his vocabulary was somewhat limited and from time to time he needed help from a particular term, Federico spoke English in a very acceptable way with a particular Argentine accent that the woman already knew from her business interviews. His talk showed clearly that he was an intelligent young man.

“And tell me, Federico.” The conversation had already become colloquial. “What other places did your parents tell you about?”

The long list of museums, galleries and other sites ended up convincing Lena that the boy came from a family of good cultural level.

“You want to visit those places?”

“Yes. I’m going to spend a relatively long time in New York.”

 

1515961302445903

 

The Agartha Star

Genre: Suspense Thriller

The Agartha Star Banner

 

Buy it in:

Amazon Kindle e-books: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B078TS9WLZ

Amazon printed books: https://www.amazon.com/dp/1976818850

Apple, Kobo, Barnes & Noble,Scribd and other retailers:https://www.books2read.com/u/3J0BkQ

 

Prologue

 

1938-Tibet

 

Wolfram von Eichenberg carefully lifted the broad flat stone, helped by two of the Tibetan bearers. The remains of sand that had covered it for countless centuries slid down the sides. Under the stone, objects of vague contours could be glimpsed with clear tonalities that varied from red to yellow to blue. With infinite care Werner Scheimberg, the senior archaeologist sent to the expedition by the Thule Society, began brushing the sand and mineral particles outward, exposing an evidently organic substrate. Wolfram watched the scientist’s methodical procedures with anxiety. Suddenly Scheimberg exclaimed.

“ No doubt it is a mummy.”  And added immediately “ We have to treat these remains with caution because they can disintegrate between our fingers. In addition, the location of each element that we find can give us valuable indications of their way of life.”  He was evidently exalted and removed the young man from the excavation with a little brusqueness.

After three hours of work, the find was free of detritus and ready for visual inspection. It was the remains of a middle-aged man, about six feet tall, covered by what were undoubtedly traces of a cloth of various colors that covered the body.

“This is amazing.” Said Scheimberg. “It’s absolutely out of context.”

“ What do you mean Werner?”  Replied von Eichenberg

“This man was not an ancestor of the Tibetans or of any Mongol race. Look at the height and shape of the body. It is typically Aryan.”

Werner´s heart started beating strongly. That finding could be a first confirmation of the theories they had come to test in the Gobi desert.

 

It was the year 1938. The explorer Ernst Schäffer had organized his third expedition to the East sponsored by the German Ahnenerbe and under the auspices of the Tibetan government. The aim was to test some theories enunciated by the official esoterists of the Third Reich and the Führer himself, according to which the cradle of the Aryan race was in an Asian region covered afterwards by the Gobi desert and since then disappeared from the face of the Earth, but that still existed in an immense complex of subterranean cities, a thesis that was related to the oriental myths of Agartha and Shambala. This was in turn related to the theories of the hollow Earth in vogue in Nazi Germany

Von Eichenberg and Scheimberg were part of that expedition, accompanied by an entourage of bearers and guides, as well as a Tibetan seer who, the Germans supposed, had in addition to his formal guiding mission the function of spying on them for the government of that country. Scheimberg had been one of the companions of the Swedish explorer Sven Hedin on his excursions in the East, with archaeological and to some extent esoteric purposes. Von Eichenberg was just a young man with an eagerness for adventure and exoticism, without any relevant scientific qualifications

 

After a day of meticulous cleaning of the mummified body, Werner Scheimberg was in a position to make a verdict.

“It is certainly not one of the precursors of the Indo-European race trumpeted by our theories, but one of its members in its own right. His whole aspect, his face admirably preserved by the dryness of the sands, the reddish tint of his hair and beard and the woolen fabric of his clothing strongly remind the primitive Celtic tribes. It looks like a primitive Scottish warrior.”

“Tonight I’ll get in touch with von Schirach by radio.” Replied Wolfram. “Have you prepared the report you want to convey to him by then?”

The young man, obviously not too impressed by the find turned around and left. From an aristocratic family, he had never been enthusiastic about Nazi racial theories, and to his eyes Hitler and his henchmen deserved a certain disdain. The theses on the hollow Earth and the submerged cities seemed absurd to him and therefore also the same purpose of the mission; however, he took good care not to express those ideas in public. From the East, it was another thing that had him dazzled.

Upon returning to Jiayaguan, a city on the edge of Tibet at the foot of the Qilian Mountains, both men went to the house where they were staying, Scheimberg was writing his report on his old typewriter while Eichenberg went to get a shower and change his clothes. When he finished, the young man passed by the room where his partner was working.

“Werner, I’m going out now. At twenty hours I´ll return and call von Schirach.”

“I suppose you’re going to visit that priestess who has trapped you between her legs.” The comment was answered with silence.

Wolfram went to the Buddhist temple led by an old lama named Dorje, who had taken him as a kind of disciple, though coming from a very different culture; the old monk was excited because he had an attentive student who absorbed his teachings like a sponge.

That day Dorje explained to his disciple the deceptive nature of concrete matter, in reality manifestation of a divine energy that must be channeled inside our minds and bodies to free us from our carnal attachments, our desires and ties. In a persuasive tone he told Wolfram that each being is a manifestation of that energy and that he already possesses everything necessary for his spiritual sustenance that only needed to be recognized and nourished.

As usual after the lesson Wolfram remained absorpt under the influence of the accumulation of  thoughts and sensations for more than an hour in absolute silence. Finally he regained his usual state of consciousness and left the cabin, noticing only then that Dorje had already left.

In one of the corridors he met one of the novice monks, and asked him.

” Chodak, can I visit Tara today?”

” I think she’s anxiously waiting for you.” Replied the young monk.

The answer, in another context would have been paradoxical. Tara was Chodak’s sister as well as an important Tantric priestess; Chodak did not ignore the motivation of the German’s interest in his sister, and he knew that he was reciprocated by her. But while in our Western culture the relations between the sexes are tinged with a halo of sin and suspicion, in the aforementioned branch of Buddhism sex has high and even sacred connotations.

 

Tara and Wolfram were sitting in the woman’s bed. They knew that no one would come to interrupt them so they proceeded with infinite calm, avoiding any anxiety.

The priestess was wrapped in veils that the man was drawing back in a parsimonious way, dominating all animal instincts. The desire had to acquire sublimated forms before freeing itself. Tara explained the three sacred purposes of sex, each of them elevated and sublime: reproduction, pleasure and liberation of the soul. She was guiding the young man through the ritual including the previous purification steps. Once they had finished with the preparations both were seated on the bed facing each other with their legs entwined. Guided by the priestess, they united in an ecstatic embrace, a precursor of reciprocal caresses that lasted an eternity. Finally came the moment of intimate union of both lovers, in which each of them dissolved into the other, and both into the cosmic consciousness. At that moment the Kundalini serpent would rise, achieving the fusion of Shiva and Shakti, the masculine and feminine principles. The ritual concluded with penetration and ejaculation, followed by a prolonged period of silent union.

Wolfram retired from the room invaded by a physical, psychic and spiritual ecstasy incomparable with any of his previous experiences while the woman reclined on the bed and again covered her body with her veils.

 

The young man took a long detour to return to the old house where he was staying. He felt himself floating among clouds, in a state he had never known before and wished that it would last as long as possible before confronting Scheimberg and his archaeological skills. Suddenly he consulted his watch and realized that only fifteen minutes were missing for the agreed time for the radio call to von Schirach, kind of coordinator of all the teams then working in East Asia; for that reason he hurried to avoid being late for the appointment.

 

“Ah! Finally you come.” Said Werner. “What a smile, have you been transported back to the fifth paradise?”

Wolfram did not answer and simply put the radio equipment in conditions, and at the scheduled time, established the contact.

 

The conversation between Scheimberg and von Schirach lasted about forty minutes. Although Wolfram had somewhat moved away he perceived that the tone of  the verbal exchange was harsh and that Scheimberg was limited to listening most of the time. When the radio contact was finished, Wolfram looked at his partner and asked.

“So, how did it go?”

Scheimberg’s face pre-announced what the answer would be. He was disturbed and his gesture showed discouragement and disenchantment.

“He basically told me we did not come to the end of the world to look for the skeleton of a Scotsman. What interests the Ahnenerbe and the Thule Society is a kind of missing link between the precursors that they suppose inhabited in this area and the current Aryans. I do not know what they want, a kind of Atlantean.”

“ Which is no news to you.”

“The one we have made is an important archaeological finding.” said Scheimberg obviously dejected. “It shows that the Indo- European expansion to this area took place much earlier than assumed. The other Nazi expectations are simple chimeras.”

Then he looked at Wolfram in alarm. If that phrase had been heard by other members of the expedition, among whom there were several SS informants, that slip could have had serious consequences for Scheimberg. Then he sighed in relief. Although Wolfram had never expressed himself freely on the subject, he was aware of the young man’s skepticism about the racial theories of Nazism. Scheimberg’s mood changed from dejection to a hint of envy. At least Wolfram had found in the Gobi Desert something that gave his life a purpose, even if it was between the legs of a sacred dancer.

“ What shall we do now?” Asked the young man.

“We go back to the excavation, in particular to the neighboring grotto that we discarded the first time.”

 

The cavern was long and sinuous and had different branches. The men split and Wolfram went inside with a torch in a tunnel that had its ground covered by sand. In one of the bends he suddenly stumbled over a partially covered rock that caused him to roll overland. The torch had happily not turned off and he picked it up while he was still on his knees. When he was trying to get back on his feet a reflex caught his attention. A bright object had been exposed as a consequence of his fall. He pushed aside the sand that still partially covered it and saw that it was a golden disc about two inches in diameter. Wolfram picked the object up with a handkerchief and examined it in the uncertain light of the torch. Clearly it was a sort of roughly circular gold medal with certain incisions that attracted him. When he observed them more closely, he jumped astonished. While on the obverse some broken stripes could be letters of some forgotten alphabet, on the reverse the German managed to clearly see a swastika although its edges were somewhat worn out perhaps by the abrasion of the sand.

At that moment Scheimberg appeared silently from the shadows behind him. The young man showed him the piece found and noticed the excitement in the face of his comrade.

Both carefully proceeded to remove the sand from the vicinity of the site where the disc had been unearthed, and it was then that they emerged in the light of the Scheimberg lantern.

The bones, obviously cranial, were too thick to be fully human.

The two men looked at each other in silence.

Status:
publishing
List Price: $3.99

La Comunidad Bluthund

¿Qué es Bluthund?

Bluthund es un protagonista colectivo de ciertas novelas de Cèdric Daurio las que integran la serie llamada precisamente “Comunidad Bluthund”.

Esta comunidad está integrada por actores individuales que poseen habilidades especiales. Dejemos la definición en labios de los protagonistas en un diálogo de La Estrella de Agartha:

“-Pueden por favor terminar con ese secretismo y explicarnos de que estamos hablando. -Selma no tenía mucha paciencia.

-Bluthund es un grupo informal, sin estatutos aunque con un cuerpo directivo, que se fue formando en las redes sociales pero luego tomó un carácter más hermético y hasta un tanto cerrado. Nuclea a investigadores de las más diversas disciplinas, los que a menudo no se conocen personalmente entre sí, y sin embargo colaboran a través de Internet en la resolución de casos y problemas de difícil gestión. No tiene sostén ni de gobiernos ni de ningún tipo de organizaciones. Tienen ciertas…”particularidades”.

-¿A qué te refieres?- La conversación se había reducido a un dialogo entre las dos hermanas.

-A los métodos de investigación.

Hubo unos instantes de silencio.

-¿Y bien? ¿O tendremos que sacarte cada palabra con un sacacorchos?- La hostilidad de Selma era sólo aparente.

-Es que nos cuesta hablar de este tema con gente no perteneciente al grupo.

-Pero los hemos citado hoy justamente para introducirlos en el tema.- Terció Dennis.- ¿Hablas tú o lo hago yo?

-Tienes razón. Bien, ahí va.- Debbie tomó aire y comenzó su explicación.

-Los métodos que utiliza Bluthund en sus investigaciones provienen tanto de las ciencias positivas como de saberes “alternativos”.

-¿Qué quieres decir con alternativos?- Era la primera vez que Martín participaba activamente.

-Justamente no basados en esas ciencias positivas, sino en conocimientos tradicionales, en arcanos de distintas culturas.

-¿Arcanos?- Selma frunció la nariz al preguntar.

– Si, cosas ocultas, misteriosas, secretos que provienen del fondo de los tiempos y han sido exhumados por investigadores modernos.

-Suena a esoterismo. ¿Me equivoco?- Preguntó el argentino.

-Quizás, pero no se les atribuye un valor sagrado sino práctico. Se los toma como métodos que no se pueden explicar a la luz de la ciencia pero ayudan a resolver problemas.

-¿Problemas? ¿Qué tipo de problemas?- Selma había recuperado la voz cantante en el interrogatorio. Su voz sonaba siempre inquisitorial.

-Temas inexplicables, bizarros, intrigantes, procedentes a menudo del pasado pero con repercusiones actuales. Hechos políticos, culturales o policiales, o la mezcla de todo eso. Los temas son propuestos por los diversos miembros de Bluthund en cualquier parte del mundo y el grupo se pone a investigarlo, sin plazos temporales.”