Monday, September 28, 2015

Book Spotlight: Illusion of an Ending by Danielle Soucy Mills



Title: Illusion of an Ending
Author: Danielle Soucy Mills
Publisher: Aerial Awareness Media
Pages: 200
Genre: Visionary & Metaphysical Fiction

Three peoples’ life stories intertwine with a synchronistic twist.

Jimmy Pollaski, a young man at the peak of his potential, dies suddenly in a motorcycle accident. As his spirit hovers above his lifeless body, he calls out to his mother, Patricia, only to find that his words are inaudible. He then promises to find some way to transmit his message to the world of the living.

It is no coincidence that Lorrena Shaw can see him, along with other spirits—a gift that Lorrena’s mother shuns. After her mother suddenly announces that they will abandon their home in Connecticut to care for Lorrena’s grandmother—a grandmother she has never known—Lorrena inevitably finds herself in the same small Massachusetts city where Patricia resides.

As their paths unite, Lorrena discovers the unbearable grief that haunts Patricia’s every move. Now, not only must she convince Patricia that her son’s soul has survived the fatal crash, she must also travel beyond space and time to access the Akashic Records, the library of all of Human Existence, and write their stories as one—a story that ultimately shatters the boundaries between life and death.

If you liked The Alchemist, you’ll love Illusion of an Ending.

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Book Excerpt:

Prologue

Jimmy Pollaski

“Unable are the Loved to die
 For Love is Immortality,”
  Emily Dickinson

            Every day of my life I died a new death.
            As the years turned me from child to teenager to adult, I remember wondering what it would feel like to die. How would I know when it happened?
Now, as I ascend over my body lying lifeless in the hospital bed, I see everything at once, know everything at the same time. My mother stands over me, her head low. She’s waiting for a sign to assure her that I’ll be okay. My father sits behind her. His mind is racing, face blank. He never knows the right way to calm her down. Outside, the San Diego sun warms the day to a pleasant seventy-four degrees.
            I feel nothing but a rush of energy as the light around me grows brighter. Life isn’t flashing before my eyes, like they say, but showing up in pieces that remind me things will not carry on as they were. I begin to recall events throughout my lifetime where I believed I was coming so close...to a close.
            I thought once that dying would be like breaking my elbow after my bicycle flew out from under my eight-year-old body. Pain shot up my arm, folded under at an unnatural angle. Still alive years later, I swore that death would be like the feeling of my lungs collapsing as my track coach yelled, “Only ten more miles!” I thought death loomed after a fifteen-minute swim in November’s North Atlantic, purple shaking lips and rubber skin. When that wasn’t death, I was sure it would arrive the morning after kicking kegs in the woods as the night transformed into dawn.
            I recognize my mother’s worry that if the beer didn’t kill us, maybe it would have been the eighty-foot jumps into the quarry’s cavernous waters. The lofty shadows of trees drifted over our drunken heads, stars blinking through the branches. Our bodies floated in the cool water. Our sobriety was the only casualty then. The intoxication never shut me down completely, not even when my eyes shook to a close, opening again four hours later to the sun pouring rays at me as generously as I had let the alcohol flow down my throat. Head pounding, thinking in broken thoughts. Yes, finally, this had to be it. Really dying.
            Now I know that these times were only attempts at escape, the way my mother closes her eyes but the world remains around her, the way people are unable to fully detach from the hurt and vulnerability which tie us hand-in-hand to life. We persevere, countless moments of pain leading us to this final moment of release.
            Twenty-five years gone by, but it’s my time.
            “Mom, I’m okay! I’m right here!” My voice stifles as if I’m talking into layers of sheets that I can’t lift.
            My mother’s chin rises. She pulls her cell phone from her pocket.
            Thousands of miles away, my sister looks out her window at the snow-covered scenery. The streets are caked in thick ice. She’s clutching the phone to her face, her eyes red and puffy as she dabs them with tissue.
            The hospital staff urged my friends to go and rest hours ago. I see them asleep on the couches, the silent glow of the television lighting up the living room.
            “I know you can’t hear me now, but I will find a way. There is a way,” I tell them.
            It’s only a matter of time before the days align. My path has led me here, the wind pressing against my face, the motorcycle’s engine roaring beneath me. The earth and the ocean smear together at seventy miles per hour. Paths of everyone on Earth diverging, and intersecting.
            I watch my mother collapse into the chair beside my dad, his arm cradling her descent. The doctor stands above them. All at once, I feel the delicate hand of my grandmother, its warmth transferring through my body like a comet grazing the sky with a sudden, hot glow. She’s been waiting for me.
            My mother’s face contorts. She tosses her face into her hands, head shaking back and forth.
            “My story isn’t over, Mom,” I say. “The beginnings and the endings aren’t real. I promise, I will tell you the true story—our story.”
            As I speak, the scene closes in around me, forming a tunnel of astounding radiance. Shards of illumination multiply without hurting my eyes.
            Today I am dying, yet I feel more alive now than ever before as the world around me fades to light.

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