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Carnival in Sorgenbach
Carnival in Sorgenbach
Carnival in Sorgenbach
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Carnival in Sorgenbach

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Carnival 1919.

Horrors of the war just ended.

Visions of the war to come.

Hans returned from the Great War, haunted. Not only by the horrors of the trenches, but haunted by visions of a more terrifying war to come.

Would the parties and parades of Carnival 1919 offer him love and hope? Or doom him and his country to the devastation he foresaw?

LanguageEnglish
PublisherCV-2 Books
Release dateOct 30, 2014
ISBN9781310378843
Carnival in Sorgenbach
Author

Raymund Eich

Raymund Eich files patent applications, earned a Ph.D., won a national quiz bowl championship, writes science fiction and fantasy, and affirms Robert Heinlein's dictum that specialization is for insects.In a typical day, he may talk with university biology and science communication faculty, silicon chip designers, patent attorneys, epileptologists, and rocket scientists. Hundreds of papers cite his graduate research on the reactions of nitric oxide with heme proteins.He lives in Houston with his wife, son, and daughter.

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    Book preview

    Carnival in Sorgenbach - Raymund Eich

    Carnival in Sorgenbach

    CARNIVAL IN SORGENBACH

    An Historical Weird Tale

    RAYMUND EICH

    CV-2 Books

    Your Free Book is Waiting

    Get a free copy of book one of the complete Stone Chalmers series at https://raymundeich.com/mailing-list.

    The Progress of Mankind (Stone Chalmers #1)

    Contents

    Carnival in Sorgenbach

    About the Author

    Other Books by the Author

    Carnival in Sorgenbach

    Hans lifted the beer mug to his mouth when the vision hit.

    The rabble-rouser, lank strand of hair falling down his apoplectic face. The hooked cross, black on white on red. The rumble of engines high above, from aircraft far larger than the Fokkers and Sopwiths of the war. A rubblescape stretching for miles, punctuated by skeletal walls and smothered with the stench of innumerable corpses.

    Hans’ awareness returned to the beer hall. The glass mug lay sideways on the wooden table. Lager pooled on the tabletop and dripped down the edges. It soaked the thighs of his best pair of pants.

    He stood up and brushed at the sodden line across his thighs. A fool’s task, it would not dry them in time. Why had a vision struck him now? He’d ordered a beer to keep the visions away during the job interview, not bring them on.

    He caught his breath, then remembered the other people in the tavern.

    The women and the old men looked wary. A few glanced searchingly around, hoping someone else would have an explanation. In a corner, Schmidt came closest to showing understanding, through eyes too old for his youthful face, and jacket cuff pinned to his shoulder. Yet even Schmidt wouldn’t know. He would assume Hans had been plunged into memories of the year before, not into premonitions of greater horrors in the years to come.

    The bartender came out with a rag and a pail. Hans, let me help you. He sopped up beer along the table’s edge.

    Hans stared glumly. Part of his dwindling money wasted, when he needed a job and every penny was precious. I hadn’t even taken a sip.

    As I said, I’ll clean it. The bartender wrung beer into the pail. You fought hard for us. You deserved better than getting stabbed in the back.

    A never-ending supply of fresh-faced doughboys, joining British and French soldiers reinvigorated with American

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