Guest Author Bernard Jan of Croatia

Another first for the Scribbler, a visiting author from Croatia. Mr Jan shares his bio and an excerpt from his novel.

“There is no greater joy than to share what you love with those who appreciate it.” —Bernard Jan 

Bernard Jan is a pen name of an author—a novelist and a poet—from Croatia. 

As an indie author, he has published two books in English to this day: A World Without Color, a moving and honest novella about the last three days he spent with his cat, and the gentle story that sheds light on the plight of baby seals in Canada hunted for their fur Look for Me Under the Rainbow.

He has written his first books at the beginning of war in Croatia in 1991, amidst the air alerts and illusory attempts when he wanted to believe and think life is normal, that everything is alright with the world. In Croatian he has published five novels, two novellas, one book of poems and an essay, along with several articles.

His passion for entertainment resulted in his becoming a partner of Tom’s Music Place established in 2009 by his friend Thomas Carley Jr. with the goal to respect the music.

His need to help others came to the fore during his volunteering years: first in advocating for environmental protection, and then his volunteering, activism, work and advocacy for animal rights to the present day. He did some volunteering for the refugees, too, because suffering does not know about the borders and when it comes within your reach, in your yard, you simply have to do something.

As part of his animal advocacy activities, it has been a great honor and pleasure for him to translate Eternal Treblinka: Our Treatment of Animals and the Holocaust by Charles Patterson into Croatian language.

For more information please visit his website www.bernardjan.com or follow him on Twitter, Goodreads  LinkedIn.

There is also about me here on my website: https://www.bernardjan.com/about-me 

An Excerpt. (Copyright is held by the author. Used with permission)

Look for Me Under the Rainbow by Bernard Jan 

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07C7JGMNG/ 

The sea was unusually calm, even the deep currents seemed to stand still. As if suspended in the hushed stillness of dawn. The blue darkness of the night sky began to recede as the pale daylight washed over the horizon. Helped by the frail rays of the wintry sun shimmering through a cloud of fog. In the cold air, the coat woven out of the drops evaporated from the sea, turned into small crystals of ice. 

The fog crept along the surface of the sea, dragging like a tired traveler, and spread in the direction of the land. Thin in places, thick in others, it occasionally revealed a glimpse of the blinding whiteness that covered most of the land. 

If you looked at the right moment, when patches of fog dispersed enough to reveal an endless vista, you could see that it was, in fact, not land. Enveloped by the gradually disappearing fog, huge icebergs loomed, huddled atop the ice crust covering the sea of blue. At first glance, one might easily mistake them for a continent. It did, in fact, exist. The outline of the coast etched against the distant horizon was all part of nature’s optical trick to fool a casual observer. Swathed in a mist of crystals, countless icebergs of various sizes stacked next to each other merged into the image of an ice mountain. The anomaly, carried by deep but weak currents, traveled the ocean almost imperceptibly. 

If not for the sound of the icebergs clashing and breaking piercing the sleepy air, the entire scene would appear lifeless. A white wasteland. Even the scattered groups of seals dozing lazily on white sheets of ice, seemed motionless and almost unreal. Their dark, slick bodies struck a sharp contrast with the surrounding harmony of whiteness. As if they were unwanted intruders. Now and then a seal would move, usually a female. With a sharp sudden spasm, one cried out in pain struggling to bring a new life into this icy world of cruel beauty. 

Having left her group, she lay on her side trying to find the most comfortable position to endure the labor pains. Growing stronger and more frequent, they produced searing pain. She felt the restless pup kick and strain to come out into a whole new world. A world of breathtaking beauty, yet fraught with danger. She wanted to help it. She matched the pace of her breathing with his efforts to break the thin membrane that divided him from the outer world. She synchronized her heartbeat with his, but to no avail. 

She knew it was going to be a difficult birth. Still not full term, her offspring was in a hurry to leave her body. She nevertheless hoped the two of them would somehow succeed. 

When the pup suddenly started to writhe and push inside her, she could not help howling in pain. Her cry resounded over the ice, eclipsing the muted groans of other mothers-to-be who were to begin labor in a few days. They were rested and ready, prepared for the hardship of giving birth, while she had only just arrived and was still exhausted after the long swim from the north. A journey she would again take several months from now with her pup, back home to the winter-bound land of eternal snow and ice. That is, if the birth went well and all ended happily. 

As time went by, her fears seemed well founded. The last obstacle that separated her baby from the outer world was removed. Splashes of red blood stained the ice around her, slowly freezing in the bitter cold. But the pup still did not come. Not moving, exhausted and weary, it braced itself for another attempt. 

She wondered whether it was male or female. If a male, would he look like his father who had just woken and proudly sniffed the air? If a female, would she, like her mother, one day have to go through this pain to bring her baby into the world? After carrying it lovingly inside her womb for months and months, only to. . . . 

A new wave of excruciating pain slashed through her body and interrupted her thoughts. The pup pushed its way into the world, this time with more force and determination. The mother again synchronized all her bodily functions with its efforts to break free. Though united in their struggle, she wondered whether they felt the same pain. Or if only she suffered? Though it did not matter. She would gladly endure all the pain it took, if only to let it live. 

As cry after piercing cry woke up other seals, they grew agitated, particularly the females about to become mothers in a few days. They timidly lifted their small heads to listen to the cries until they gradually abated. And then, one by one, they softly stretched on the ice that glistened in the sun. Silence fell, and everything was again hushed and motionless. 

* 

She could barely hold the overactive pup at her breast. He kept pulling away and refused to eat. His large black eyes squinted at the new surroundings with curiosity, blinking in the dazzling sunlight reflected from the white surfaces. Dark whiskers protruding from his snout combined with big chocolate eyes and two short hairs resembling antennae above each one, were all that disrupted the harmony of whiteness cloaking the pup. His fluffy fur, in its dreamlike softness once the afterbirth had been washed off, seemed to blend into the whiteness of the glacier. This fragile creature looked more like a chunk of white ice than a living being. Protected by nature like a mother shielding her baby from the perils that lurked. 

His mother looked on tenderly as he gave in to her persistence and, something calmer, began to suckle. Content, she nevertheless remained on guard. Although seemingly relaxed, she’d primed her senses to detect the slightest of movements—any sign of danger or concealed threat. Her memories of the past, still too alive, filled her with a sense of foreboding. 

The satiated pup stopped nursing and snuggled by his mother. But she could not get rid of the nameless fear. With one eye half-open, she eventually dozed, ready to snap awake at any sound. 

* 

She left him alone for a brief moment, to satisfy her hunger. When she returned, the cub was nowhere to be found. Nowhere! She scanned the iceberg hoping to spot him, but in vain. 

“Danny! Danny, where are you?” 

Overcome by fear, she stumbled and slid over the smooth ice, searching for her son. She hoped he’d joined the other seals. When she saw he hadn’t, she completely lost her head. She rushed forward, lurching and tripping, falling and rising again. Feverishly, she searched in each nook and cranny, turning at each shadow. Just when she thought it all over and lost hope of ever seeing him again, she saw something. On another end of the ice floe, a small and fluffy ball shuffled toward the sea. 

“Danny!” 

No reply. The chilly wind carried her voice away. Catching her breath, she dashed after her son still skidding toward the sea. She scurried over the ice with only enough strength to let out several sharp barks in succession. It seemed to work. The pup stopped for a moment and turned around. Giving his frantic mother time to catch him. 

“Look, Mom! The sea!” He looked at her with shiny button eyes. 

“Come here, Danny, to Mommy! Let’s go.” Her heart pounding, she pressed him to her side and kissed the moist tip of his little nose. 

“But, Mom, this is the sea.” Eyes wide, the pup stared at the blue expanse of water stretching out between the giant icebergs into infinity. 

    "Yes, Danny, but you’re too small to go in the water.” 

“When will I be able to go swimming?” Danny wailed. 

“In a little while, after you grow up.” 

“When will that be?” 

“Soon, my son.” Smiling at his curiosity, she moved toward the center of the ice floe, holding him by the nape of his neck. 

***********

Thank you Bernard for being our guest this week and sharing an excerpt from your story.

Thank you dear readers for visiting. Please drop by Mr. Jan's website to learn more about him and his writing. Don't forget to leave a comment.

Guest Author Traci Ison Schafer of Ada, Oklahoma

Who can resist a free story?

I discovered Traci’s kind offer on Twitter and read her short story – To Save a Girl.  I’m glad I did. To Save a Girl is well written with great dialogue. A visitor to Earth saves a young lady’s life, against all rules regarding such encounters. A happy ending. (I love happy endings.)

Traci is an award winning author. She has graciously agreed to a 4Q Interview and to share a chapter of her novel – The Anuan Legacy.

Traci Ison Schafer lives in Ada, Oklahoma, and is a Price Analyst for the United States Air Force. She’s a native of Ohio and started her career at the infamous Wright-Patterson Air Force Base, which she used as the backdrop for her first book, the science fiction novel The Anuan Legacy.

Traci is current Past President of the Oklahoma City Writers (OKCW) and is an officer on the Executive Board of the Oklahoma Writers’ Federation (OWFI) were she serves as Second Vice President. She also remains active in the writing community in the Dayton, Ohio, area where she’s a founding member of the critique group The Plot Sisters (est. 2012) and has served as a panelist at the Antioch Writers’ Workshop at the University of Dayton.

Traci has a master’s degree in business, a bachelor’s degree in science education, and has earned teaching certifications in several science fields including physics, astronomy, and earth science. She’s curious about all things beyond this physical world such as aliens, reincarnation, and psychic abilities, making them among her favorite writing topics.

Traci’s writing has earned several awards, including winner of the National Indie Excellence Award in Science Fiction and finalist for the Independent Author Network Science Fiction Book of the Year. When not busy writing, Traci enjoys spending time with her family.

  

4Q: Your bio tells us of your curiosity with aliens, reincarnation and psychic abilities and how these are your favorite writing subjects. Considering each one of these topics, do you believe in them?

TIS: Yes, I do! All of them. I think there are so many things beyond what we can see, hear, touch, smell, and taste. People tend to be skeptical of things they can’t verify with these five “hard” senses. The human eye can only detect a small portion of the electromagnetic spectrum (the visible light portion), but that doesn’t mean the rest doesn’t exist. It does. We’ve found other ways, beyond those five senses, to prove that. I think it’s that way with other things as well. A human body, and what scientific means we’ve developed so far, can only verify a small portion of what this universe is all about, but that doesn’t mean there’s not more. We just haven’t figured it all out yet. Aliens, for example. There are trillions and trillions of galaxies, each containing trillions and trillions of stars, many of which support planets. I just can’t believe that our planet is the one and only planet that sustains any kind of intelligent life. Scientist have discovered that other planets outside of our own solar system could sustain life, but I think even they are looking at things too narrowly, because they’re looking for planets that would be similar to our own. What if other life forms exist that don’t breathe the same kind of air we breathe or live within the same temperature ranges that we survive within. We need to open our imaginations to possibilities beyond what we already know. Our science-fiction of today could be the reality of tomorrow.

4Q: Tell us about The Anuan Legacy. What inspired this story.

TIS:  I’ve always loved astronomy and was a big fan of Star Wars growing up, and later, of Star Trek. I also loved watching Carl Sagan’s Cosmos. So, I’ve always had my eyes to the stars. Combine that with my job location and it was a no-brainer. I’m originally from Ohio and started my career at Wright-Patterson Air Force Base. I worked there for many years before relocating to Oklahoma. If you’re not familiar with Wright-Patt, it’s rumored to have received the Aliens from the Roswell, New Mexico, space ship crash back in 1947. So, mix the government, captive aliens, adventures in space, throw in a little romance along the way, and you’ve got The Anuan Legacy.

4Q:   Please share a childhood memory or anecdote.

TIS:  I’ll share one that’s in-line with the subject matter. I grew up back when it was safer for a child to be out and about without supervision (or at least people thought so). Well, my mom would give me a certain time to be home, but when it would start to get dark, I couldn’t resist stretching out on the top of the neighborhood playground’s monkey bars (that couldn’t have been comfortable, but I never noticed) to watch the stars. I’d tell Mom my watch was slow or had stopped. She must have thought I was terrible at winding my watch. Or maybe she had her eye on me after all, because I don’t recall ever getting in trouble.  Maybe I just pushed that part out of my memory. Lol.

4Q: Every author, artist or musician has that special “place” where they feel most creative, be it a room of their own or an office, in complete silence or with music playing, etc. What’s yours like?

TIS:  Pretty much anywhere that I can find a desk or table and relative quiet. It doesn’t have to be dead silence. White noise is okay. But I’m not one who can write on the couch in front of a tv. Probably the most unusual place I’ve ever written was in a closet. When I worked in black world programs, I couldn’t have my laptop with me. I had to store it in a locker outside the classified area. At lunch I’d retrieve my laptop and go to a locked walk-in closet, also outside the classified area, that had a counter where people could leave their phones or personal laptops. I’d punch in the code, push all the electronics aside, and set up on that counter to write. I startled quite a few people who popped in for their phones during lunch and found me sitting there.

4Q: Anything else you’d like to add?

TIS: Yes. I’d like to thank all my readers for their support. I love hearing from them on social media and meeting them at events. I look forward to meeting more in the future.

Also, for those who’ve asked about another book, I should have The Anuan Legacy, Book 2, out sometime later this year. If anybody would like updates, they can sign up for that on my website or follow me on social media. I’m most active on twitter and Facebook, but also have an Instagram account.

An Excerpt – The Anuan Legacy.

 

CHAPTER 1 – GAIGE

“Gaige, you’ll be entering Earth’s atmosphere in ten seconds,” Nav said over the open mission channel.

“Got it, Nav.” I scanned the cockpit readouts to verify that all of the diagnostics still checked out. They did.

“Five seconds.”

I braced for the change in velocity.

“Prepare for entry in three, two, one . . .”

Just as I hit the thick atmosphere from the vacuum of space, cockpit warnings blared and diagnostic projections flashed by as the auto-systems tried to pinpoint the problem.

“Nav, something’s wrong with the shuttle!” I shouted.

“We know. We think an unexpectedly strong solar burst knocked out your Lexon system. We’re working it from here.”

The diagnostic projections continued to scroll through the air in front of me, still searching for the problem.

“There’s no time,” I said. “I’ll have to land it mentally.” Telekinesis was nothing new to an Anuan, but controlling something that large would be more than a challenge. It would be a miracle.

“Our readings show the electromagnetic interference on Earth’s atmosphere caused by the burst won’t settle down for another few Earth minutes. Be careful what you’re opening yourself up to, Gaige.”

“I don’t have a choice.” The shuttle was going down one way or another. I could take control or die. “Override!”

The warnings fell silent and the cockpit diagnostics faded. The remaining displays dimmed. The shuttle was all mine. I reached forward and touched the control panel. My hands trembled with surging adrenaline until I pressed them so firmly against the panel they couldn’t budge. I wouldn’t be able to land the craft and maintain a cloaking shield at the same time, but I’d have to worry about being detected later.

The shuttle vibrated under the stress of friction with Earth’s atmosphere. Opening my mind, I directed my mental willpower into the shuttle. Slow to entry speed! Still, the vibrations rocked the shuttle. If I didn’t get the shuttle’s speed down, it would break apart under the continued force of entry. I focused everything I could pull from within myself at the shuttle. It slowed—not quite to a normal entry speed—but close enough to ease some of the stress on the craft.

Trying to manage the shuttle was depleting me, not just mentally, but physically, too. The unstable electromagnetic energy in Earth’s atmosphere from the solar burst wasn’t helping. I couldn’t maintain control of the shuttle much longer. Dusk had already started to settle over the area, but the night vision filter of the windshield allowed me to easily see Earth’s barren winter trees—lots of them. My eyes scanned for a clearing among all the trees. In the far distance, toward the northwest, I found one. You can make that.

I leaned my body and my mind toward the clearing and willed the shuttle in that direction. The craft glided above the treetops.

Slow to hover. The shuttle paused and hung suspended in the air over the open stretch of land.

Landing mode and down. Drained, I struggled to keep control. My energy level wavered. The craft shuddered then crashed to the ground with a hard jolt that slammed me forward in my restraint.

I laid my head back against the seat, exhausted. Stretching each arm and leg, wiggling fingers and toes, I seemed to be in one piece. But every part of me ached—especially my brain. It felt like an icepick had been driven through my temples.

Dusk offered some visual cover, but I could have easily been detected on radars since I hadn’t been able to maintain a cloak during the landing. A stream of sweat ran down the side of my face. I didn’t have enough energy to wipe it away, let alone hide a shuttle.

“Gaige? Ship to Gaige.”

I heard the static-riddled communications coming from my crippled shuttle, barely, but couldn’t gather enough energy to answer.

“Ship to Gaige. Respond!”

“Yeah.” With some effort, I got the sigh of a word out.

“We’re evaluating your medical values now—,” Nav said.

“Gaige,” another voice interrupted. “This is Mission Commander. I’m sending Conner down with a rescue team as soon as the burst energy subsides. Shouldn’t be more than another five Earth minutes.”

His words sent a small surge of adrenaline through my body, giving me enough energy to protest. “Tas, no! I mean, Commander, permission to—”

“You can’t stay down there like that,” Tas said. “I’m sending a team to get you.”

“Please, Commander . . .” I couldn’t let my situation affect the mission. I drew in a deep breath, trying to hold on to the quickly fading adrenaline. “I request some time to recover the situation on my own.” I took another breath. “One of us in this area is enough, maybe too much already. Remember, we can’t overwhelm her.”

There was silence and then, finally, Tas answered. “Request granted. But I’ll have Conner and the rescue team on standby. If we don’t receive a positive report from you in fifteen Earth minutes, I’m sending them. Understood?”

I couldn’t respond. Our short exchange had taken what little energy I’d regained. I knew I had to fix the shuttle, get it cloaked, and move it somewhere away from the current site. But I could barely stay conscious.

“Gaige? This is Tas. Are you still with us?”

Yeah, I’m with you.

“Gaige?”

No energy left . . . to stay . . . awake . . .

To discover more about Traci and her stories, please follow these links.

   

www.traciisonschafer.com

www.twitter.com/authortraci

www.facebook.com/authortraciisonschafer

www.instagram.com/authortraciisonschafer  

Thank you Traci for being our special guest this week. Wishing you continued success with your future stories.

Thank you! It’s been my pleasure.

Thank you to all you visitors for stopping by the Scribbler. Please take a moment and leave us a comment.

Part 3 of Logbox - a story by S.C.Eston

As promised - Part three of Steve's entertaining story

Part one - GO HERE

Part two - GO HERE

Mr Eston Is back.

 Steve was a guest recently on the Scribbler. If you missed his previous visit and bio, please go here. Since then I’ve been visiting his website -  www.sceston.ca -  and reading his short stories. I really enjoyed Logbox and he’s kind enough to share it with us this week in three parts.

Part one - Sunday March 17 

Part two – Tuesday March 19

Part three – Today 

(Copyright is held by the author. Used with permission)

Nothing is the same.

For the first time in a long while, I think. I have thoughts, and I can’t control any of them. I’m thinking about escape…

Of all things: escape!

How ludicrous is that?

[laughter]

I can’t stop the thoughts.

I think about Garadia, about the Low Lands.

Even the Red Streets.

Home.

Can I allow myself to think about it as home?

It doesn’t end there.

I think about what I would do if I could return.

I would find the old brick tower. Make a bed there. Something small to start. Just a room or even the corner of a room. Maybe even use the same space that was mine before I left.

Then I would repair the place. Repaint. Rebuild.

I would need work. Something real. Something true. Something that could bring me stuff, stuff to trade.

There would be no cheating this time. I would play by the rules.

My brothers. I would search for their story, learn now what I should have known then.

More importantly, I would apologize. I would have many apologies to make.

It seems right.

[silence]

[laughter]

It is a dream.

These hopes are never to happen. Even if I was to return one day, I could not go back to the Red Streets. It is a strange thing that the mind tries so hard to forget the bad, to make it bearable. Even if my head does not remember the reality, my heart knows it hasn’t changed.

Maybe I could look for Anedia’s family? Or some of her friends? I always wanted to go to the Floating City. We all despise it, but we all want to walk its streets.

There have to be some people who would remember her, who would have cared for her. Not her father. But her mother, surely. I realize I don’t even know if she had brothers, sisters…I could find them and give them this device.

Her voice is on it.

 Coda     

The recording stopped in disintegrating white noise.

The man looked down at the device on top of his desk. It was a box, grayish, showing marks of time and use, covered in scratches. It was not impressive, but it had survived where almost nothing else had.

“So this is it?” he asked, slowly spinning the drink in his hand. The transparent orange liquid swirled in circles, creating a miniature typhoon.

“It is,” said the woman sitting across from him, her legs crossed, her head high.

“Not what I had expected.”

The woman didn’t say anything. Her black suit was impeccable. Her short hair was moist, making the red streak in it look as if it was ablaze. She had just returned from the latest sweep.

“How can you be certain this is the source?” he asked.

“It is still transmitting,” answered the woman. “We don’t know how to stop it.”

He nodded, impressed.

The message had traversed a few billion kilometers to reach them, halfway across the system, loud and clear, on a secret frequency. Not only that, but the box had been constructed from a wide array of disparate materials and pieces. It looked like a logbox, but it was a distress beacon.

Their scientists, with all their knowledge and equipment, had not been able to stop the signal.

Impressive indeed.

He took a sip and felt the satisfying burn as the liquid descended down his throat.

“You’ve analyzed the voice, I assume? Of the girl, and found it is the same as the one on the distress call?”

“We have, and it is.”

“What is her name?” Names didn’t stay easily with him.

“Anedia.”

“Yes, right. And you didn’t find her body?”

“No, we didn’t.” He heard regret there. “Based on the recording, it was to be expected. Her remains would have been dumped into space with other waste.”

“Did you crawl the data-sphere?”

“We have, using her voice pattern. We found her. As stated by the recording, she is a Promient of pure blood. She was studying frequency engineering. The daughter of Daram, ex-director of the innovation department of Bio-Ex. Her disappearance was reported by her mother on the first day of the sixth season, cycle 2453. Strangely, the request for help was retracted a few days later, this time by her father. We know she wasn’t found, so the father had other reasons for halting the search. The next season, the mother committed suicide by jumping off a tram on the northern fringes, falling through the clouds. A search party was sent to look for her, but the body was never recovered. The following cycle, 2454, an explosion hit one of Bio-Ex’s labs in the X quadrant. Daram was one of the 121 casualties. He had no surviving kin, and his estate, as well as all his assets and data, passed on to Bio-Ex.”

“The nature of the explosion?”

“Filed as accidental.”

“Staged,” he corrected.

He offered the woman a drink. She refused, as she had done a few minutes earlier. As she always did. He took a sip from his glass, savouring it, taking his time.

The whole matter was an incredible turn of events. They had been searching for the asteroid mines for years now, without luck. Just a season ago, he had been pressured to cancel the mission. The whole project was in jeopardy.

Then the distress call reached them. Out of nowhere. A single feminine voice asking for help, over and over.

“You realize,” he said, nodding at the small object on the desk, “that we would never have found this place without help?”

“I do,” admitted the woman. “I just wish you would have got here sooner.”

“I know,” admitted the man. His armada had answered, although not nearly as swiftly as he would have liked. Certainly not as quickly as the woman has responded. She was a loner. He had superiors to placate, politics to play. They had already discussed the matter, and she knew how grateful he was for her assistance. He wished he could also thank this Anedia personally. “How many were we able to free?”

“Five hundred and eleven. Half will recover with minor scars. A quarter are in especially bad shape. Of these, some have been altered or augmented. We suspect bio-experimentation. The other quarter are sick and weak, and some will probably not make it. We estimate the mine had over two thousand captives.”

The result was devastating. So many lost, not even counting their own. Yet it provided the proof they needed. The project would continue now. There was no doubt about that. Funding would flow in. More flying crafts would be provided. Resources. Technologies made available. There would be no limit.

But the cost had been terribly high.

“We should talk again before you leave,” he said. “Get some rest. Deserved rest.”

The woman stood and stared through the sole window of the office. The man followed her gaze. Far away, in the dark of space, the remains of the asteroids could be seen. The explosion had been powerful and had almost taken down their craft. The repair bots were outside, fixing and patching. The grinding could be heard and felt through the floor. It would be several more days before they would be able to fly again.

“This was only one of many,” she said. “It is said there are a thousand camps out there.”

“One at a time,” he said. “It is the best we can do.”

But he didn’t feel the confidence he was trying to convey.

“We’ll talk before I leave,” she said, turning away.

As the doors opened to let her out, a thought came to him.

“And this man,” he said, “this Nethu, what about him?”

The woman stopped and turned his way. For the first time since her return, she gave him a tired but genuine smile.

“We found him. The device was hidden under his cot, behind a loose stone. He lives.”

The End

Thank you Steve for sharing your story.

Thank you readers for following. Please visit Steve's website to learn more about this talented author and his work.

www.sceston.ca

Don't forget to leave a comment!