SYNOPSIS:
Dante King is a young twenty something who discovers he’s dying.
He won’t live to see his next birthday and time is ticking away to
live life before it’s taken from him. With the help of his eccentric
and wild-free friend, Wilbur Day, and stubbornly rational cousin,
Ethan Knight, the three friends embark on a trip that takes them
across Europe, Asia, Australia and beyond.
Dante clings to his past though and the many regrets he has, yearning for acceptance and finally understanding faith. He’s only loved once, and when Daniella Adams comes back in to his life, the pair realise how in love they are – but must battle what they previously did to one another.
This is a heart pulling journey of amazing scenery and adventurous ways, but built on a life that is soon to end. It follows the love of Danii and Dante, finally realising how much they mean to each other but having it ripped away before their eyes. It’s about love and hardship between friends, family, and a dying son’s regret of not being better.
It’s a roller coaster ride of laughs and tears and making the most of life before it’s too late.
Dante clings to his past though and the many regrets he has, yearning for acceptance and finally understanding faith. He’s only loved once, and when Daniella Adams comes back in to his life, the pair realise how in love they are – but must battle what they previously did to one another.
This is a heart pulling journey of amazing scenery and adventurous ways, but built on a life that is soon to end. It follows the love of Danii and Dante, finally realising how much they mean to each other but having it ripped away before their eyes. It’s about love and hardship between friends, family, and a dying son’s regret of not being better.
It’s a roller coaster ride of laughs and tears and making the most of life before it’s too late.
PURCHASE LINKS:
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Author links:
EXCERPT:
"Are you ready?" Macca shouts, an inch from my ear.
I nod. He positions the goggles around my eyes and works me into position, and as he warned at the base, I hang free over the edge of the plane: no legs on ground, no clinging on, simply strapped to a stranger and waiting for him to execute his plunge.
This is the moment I've been dreading. I assumed my insides would fail me and nerves would take control, but hanging free like this is the most peaceful I've ever been. He said it would only last a few seconds, but I want more. The world is beautiful. The sea is bright and the land rich. In the distance are the mountains we worked our way up yesterday, and beyond them, the ranging vineyards with purple and green and dark red grapes.
Wellington is somewhere in the distance, as too is Australia and Cambodia and Tibet and Europe. York is just over the horizon, and my parents are at home watching TV or reading a good book. My past is out there somewhere, all my memories and good times and bad. The future, too, hangs in the distance, on a thread and ready to welcome me. Maybe this is heaven. Maybe being high and peering down like this is all the heaven we need. This is freedom. This is glee. This is life.
I want to hang like this forever, but then, suddenly, I fall and my stomach is in my throat, but quickly, I adapt, and I'm not falling at all. I'm simply laying down on a bed of air and wind. I'm a cloud up here, not a boy or a man or a human at all. We're not falling; we're existing in another parallel.
I didn't expect this. I anticipated an upanddown ride like a rollercoaster or turbulence in a plane, but it isn't at all. The wind pounds my cheeks, but it isn't painful or uncomfortable, it's refreshing. My insides are calm and limbs are light. I'm falling but not. I'm flying and free.
The air is fresh and clean and exhilarating. I didn't think I would experience the air of Tibet or Uluru again, but here it is, more intense and powerful than ever. This is true tranquility, the kind the birds live with, the kind I've looked up at and dreamed about and wished I was part of. I'm one of them, finally. I'm high and gliding with abundant freedom. I see the sunrise at Uluru again. I feel that aura once more. I'm sitting at the foot of the Potala Palace, gaping up in awe with guilt and the desire to be better. All around me is honest and beautiful. There's no makeup up here presenting life in a different light. This is as a woman wakes in the morning, vulnerable and transparent. You cannot understand love until you see how honest it is, and you cannot appreciate life until you see it like this.
The land below approaches fast, the fields larger now and more distinct. In a few minutes, the trees will be trees, the houses, houses, and the beaches full of sunbathers and chairs and other gifts we're accustomed to. I don't want it. I want to remain here and look down on a patchwork quilt of greens and yellows and dirty browns. I want to see the blue with wisps of white dotted through, and the mountains that jut upward and cast shadows and patterns that can't be seen from the ground.
I'm mesmerised by everything below, and although I hear the whoops and shouts from Macca, they're nowhere near me. I'm alone up here, I'm free and on my own. This is how I want to depart, not in my sleep one night, going to bed like any other and lying helplessly as life slips away. I want to go out with a bang as the ground rushes towards me and reaches, pulling, bringing me towards the light. What better way to leave this strange and wonderful world than to crash into it at such speed. I won't open up and slow myself down and try and survive, I'll bundle up into a ball or tense into a straight and narrow arrow, screaming through the air, screeching through the sky, and then, just before I hit terra firma, I'll close my eyes, say goodbye to colour, and hang on to my final memory.
Alas, the chute will open. I have life left to live, and though it's short and fleeting, I have more memories to muster and more love to offer. I'm a bird for now, but falling closer to manhood. Maybe freedom will remain this time. Maybe I can finally accept acceptance. Where Tibet and Uluru and all other places failed, maybe falling from the heavens will succeed and help guide me into what's next. Maybe I finally understand, or maybe I finally will.
I nod. He positions the goggles around my eyes and works me into position, and as he warned at the base, I hang free over the edge of the plane: no legs on ground, no clinging on, simply strapped to a stranger and waiting for him to execute his plunge.
This is the moment I've been dreading. I assumed my insides would fail me and nerves would take control, but hanging free like this is the most peaceful I've ever been. He said it would only last a few seconds, but I want more. The world is beautiful. The sea is bright and the land rich. In the distance are the mountains we worked our way up yesterday, and beyond them, the ranging vineyards with purple and green and dark red grapes.
Wellington is somewhere in the distance, as too is Australia and Cambodia and Tibet and Europe. York is just over the horizon, and my parents are at home watching TV or reading a good book. My past is out there somewhere, all my memories and good times and bad. The future, too, hangs in the distance, on a thread and ready to welcome me. Maybe this is heaven. Maybe being high and peering down like this is all the heaven we need. This is freedom. This is glee. This is life.
I want to hang like this forever, but then, suddenly, I fall and my stomach is in my throat, but quickly, I adapt, and I'm not falling at all. I'm simply laying down on a bed of air and wind. I'm a cloud up here, not a boy or a man or a human at all. We're not falling; we're existing in another parallel.
I didn't expect this. I anticipated an upanddown ride like a rollercoaster or turbulence in a plane, but it isn't at all. The wind pounds my cheeks, but it isn't painful or uncomfortable, it's refreshing. My insides are calm and limbs are light. I'm falling but not. I'm flying and free.
The air is fresh and clean and exhilarating. I didn't think I would experience the air of Tibet or Uluru again, but here it is, more intense and powerful than ever. This is true tranquility, the kind the birds live with, the kind I've looked up at and dreamed about and wished I was part of. I'm one of them, finally. I'm high and gliding with abundant freedom. I see the sunrise at Uluru again. I feel that aura once more. I'm sitting at the foot of the Potala Palace, gaping up in awe with guilt and the desire to be better. All around me is honest and beautiful. There's no makeup up here presenting life in a different light. This is as a woman wakes in the morning, vulnerable and transparent. You cannot understand love until you see how honest it is, and you cannot appreciate life until you see it like this.
The land below approaches fast, the fields larger now and more distinct. In a few minutes, the trees will be trees, the houses, houses, and the beaches full of sunbathers and chairs and other gifts we're accustomed to. I don't want it. I want to remain here and look down on a patchwork quilt of greens and yellows and dirty browns. I want to see the blue with wisps of white dotted through, and the mountains that jut upward and cast shadows and patterns that can't be seen from the ground.
I'm mesmerised by everything below, and although I hear the whoops and shouts from Macca, they're nowhere near me. I'm alone up here, I'm free and on my own. This is how I want to depart, not in my sleep one night, going to bed like any other and lying helplessly as life slips away. I want to go out with a bang as the ground rushes towards me and reaches, pulling, bringing me towards the light. What better way to leave this strange and wonderful world than to crash into it at such speed. I won't open up and slow myself down and try and survive, I'll bundle up into a ball or tense into a straight and narrow arrow, screaming through the air, screeching through the sky, and then, just before I hit terra firma, I'll close my eyes, say goodbye to colour, and hang on to my final memory.
Alas, the chute will open. I have life left to live, and though it's short and fleeting, I have more memories to muster and more love to offer. I'm a bird for now, but falling closer to manhood. Maybe freedom will remain this time. Maybe I can finally accept acceptance. Where Tibet and Uluru and all other places failed, maybe falling from the heavens will succeed and help guide me into what's next. Maybe I finally understand, or maybe I finally will.
GIVEAWAY:
No comments:
Post a Comment