Jamieson Wolf
Number-one bestselling author
The City of Mirrors by Justin Cronin – A Book Review
The Twelve are no more and Amy is gone.
Peter feels as if a part of him is missing. Though he never said it out loud, Peter loves Amy. With her gone, he feels at wits end. Without her, he is lost. He can’t shake the feeling that the virals aren’t gone, that they might all be living in a dream. He has his plate full, protecting the people of the Texas Republic.
Alicia has gone off on her own. She is desperate to kill Fanning, called Zero. With him gone, the virus that has ruined their world will cease to exist. However, Alicia didn’t expect Fanning to be so…human. He is not like the other virals, wearing what looks like a human skin. However, she knows that underneath is the soul of a monster. Yet she can’t help but be taken in by him and his promise of a better life together.
Michael is aimless. He spends his time removed from everyone. He rides a boat along the water, going further and further out each time. He knows that the supposed barrier, the mines and explosives said to be placed there to protect humanity when the virus first began, is a myth. What he doesn’t expect is to find a boat that has been sailing for one hundred years with a secret waiting to be found inside of it.
And Lucius? Lucius Greer, ever the believer of the group that fought amongst Hollis, Sara, Peter, Alicia and Amy? He has his own secret and it’s waiting for him in the belly of another boat off the cost, sitting in the water. She is waiting for the right time to gather he strength and come to their aid.
Because she knows: the virals aren’t gone and never were. They are merely waiting and, when the time is right, they will strike…
There is no possible way that I could summarize the entire plot of this book. In fact, before I started writing this review, I sat and flicked through the book. I was stymied by the sheer amount of story, the amount of life, that is packed into six hundred pages.
While The Passage was a wild ride and The Twelve, was wicked adventure, The City of Mirrors is a wondrous journey. We’ve come to know these characters (a cast of over fifty). We’ve watched them grow, watched them prosper and fight against what would surely kill them. To say that my heart and mind were invested in these characters would be an understatement.
The City of Mirrors is a quieter book that its predecessors. There is an undercurrent of unease and dread that fills the pages until the world just explodes and there is only one brief foray into the past. For ninety-nine present of the novel, it in told in the now. Make no mistake, the book is stronger for all of this. There is no more story from the past to tell and we are living along with the people that fill the entirety of this novel.
That is the novel’s main strength. By the time people start dying (and they do), we ache for them. For all of the virals, horror and supernatural elements that fill The City of Mirrors, this novel is surprisingly human. You don’t merely read this novel, you live it right along with all of the people within the story.
While reading The City of Mirrors, I gripped the book in terror and fright, I laughed, I cheered and I cried. I was touched by every single emotion. In the end, The City of Mirrors and Justin Cronin reminded me how vey human I am. That is how wonderful this book is.
I had the pleasure of reading The Passage and The Twelve before I read The City of Mirrors, but you don’t have to. Cronin reminds you of the important details before he launches into the story. So for new fans and old alike, come along to The City of Mirrors won’t you?
It’s quite the journey.
Living the Dream – A Poem
When we talked about
living together, I never
really thought it would
happen. It had always
been my dream to
build a home with a man
who loved me completely,
to start building a life
with a man who understood
me and loved all the parts
of me, even those I didn’t
love. As the discussion became
more serious and we started
looking at different places,
a tiny spark of bright, pure light
began to grow inside of me.
As we packed our belongings
to move them into our new place,
that light grew to the size of a star;
I was carrying around the
impossible, a dream that was
coming true. When all of the
boxes and tubs, the odds and sods
of our lives, were mingled
together, waiting to be unpacked,
I should have felt nervous or
afraid or terrified. Instead,
I walked around the apartment
marvelling at the chaos that
surrounded us that we would
transform into a home, The star
inside of me grew brighter and bigger,
filling me almost to the brim.
That first night, I slept so well
beside you. When I woke and
realized that it wasn’t a dream,
that we had each other and
that this was our home together,
the star inside me overflowed,
my body unable to contain
the light that now spilled forth.
You were that dream made real,
that fantasy, come to life.
Living with you,
being loved by you,
has changed my life.
Every day with you is a blessing,
a wish come true. You’ve proven
that, sometimes, the impossible can
become possible and that sometimes,
if we’re lucky enough,
dreams do come true.
The Meat Wagon – A Short Story
This is my second Pay It Forward offering for 2016. It’s a story for Naomi. 🙂
Steven drove; or rather, he let the car drive itself.
He would enter the co-ordinates for his location, the hover car would go. Simple as that, most of the time. There were a few occasions where he had had to override the controls and drive manually, but that just went along with what he did.
Looking around him, he saw the tall buildings of glass and steel, tall spindles reaching up into points so sharp it was as if they wanted to puncture the very sky itself. Some cheaper hover cars zoomed by him, the sky looking as if it were filled with a zillion multi-coloured clouds.
Steven saw the monorail below him, travelling through the republic like a giant iron snake. It encompassed all of the metropolis and was the main method of transportation for people who couldn’t afford hover cars or teleportation transportation.
His hover car put on a burst of speed and went to the boundary of the republic. He was to pick up his new student, a woman named Naomi. He hoped she was waiting for him and not the other way around. She would learn quickly that being on time or early to pick up their fares would keep her alive.
The hover car let out a little jingle of noises, like wind chimes, to let him know that he was above their desired location. On the dashboard in front of him, the address he was going to was flashing in red. He could see a woman waiting for him. She had short red hair and a black leather jacket on and a dark pair of jeans that had holes in them. She looked like someone from the slums. He would have to talk to her about her taste in fashion, too.
He pressed a button and the sounds stopped. The car brought itself into a gentle descent until it was at street level. He pressed another button on the dashboard. This unlocked the doors and let them know that he had made it to his destination. He pressed another button and the drivers side door slid open with a soft hiss. “Naomi?”
She turned her head towards him and the first thing he noticed were her eyes. They were a sot shade of violet. “Yes. Steven?”
“Yes. Get in. We have a lot to learn in a short amount of time.”
She nodded and went around to the passenger side. He got in and opened her door and she slipped into the car. She was wearing a pair of black leather boots that ended in a very spiky heel.
“Lesson one, wear appropriate footwear. Your shoes might cause you to fall if you have to get away quickly. Wear something sensible.”
“Sensible isn’t fashionable.”
“Fashionable can get you killed. Lesson two, do up your seatbelt. It’ll save your life.”
She gave him a cold glare with her disturbingly purple eyes. “Yes, sir.”
He reacted quickly. Pulling a blade from his jacket pocket in one swift motion, he grabbed her and pulled her against him and put the blade to her neck. “Lesson three: arrogance and sarcasm will get you killed. So shut it and listen, okay?”
Nodding, Naomi said: “Yes, Steven.” She did up her seat belt.
“Okay then.” He realised her. “Lesson four: If anyone asks what you do, say you’re a taxi driver. That’s what I tell people and they don’t ask questions.”
He pressed the accelerate button and they rose slowly into the air. Entering the co-ordinates into the dashboard, he also pressed the button that told them he had picked Naomi up. He gave her a sharp look. “Have you driven a hover car before?”
“Yes. I learned to drive in a standard.”
“Where you drove the car yourself?”
“Yes.”
“How many accidents?”
“None.”
“Good, let’s keep it that way. If you were able to drive a standard hover car and not have any accidents, it means your reflexes are good. That’ll help when you need to switch off the automatic controls and drive standard.” He pointed to another button.
“Will I need to?”
“Do you know what kind of clientele you’ll be picking up?”
She shook her head. “Not really. They didn’t tell me much, just saw me drive and asked if I wanted a job.”
Shit, they hadn’t told her anything. He would have to be the one that told her and he wasn’t looking forward to it. That’s what happened when the elders chose a civilian. Everyone in the republic knew that the elders got up to some pretty rough stuff, but it was mostly rumours. Having those rumours confirmed as fact was a whole other thing altogether.
“Lesson five: you can’t look at your clientele as people. They are meat, pure and simple. The second thing you need to know is that every single one of them is going to die.”
Naomi shrugged. “We’re all going to die someday, unless you prolong your life by unnatural means.”
“That’s not what I mean.” Fuck there was no easy way to say this so he just came out with it. “You’re taking the passengers to their death. They will be killed at their destination.”
Looking as if she had been punched in the gut, Naomi gaped at him. “Why? Why would we pick up people who are going to be killed?”
“Surely you know how much the republic and the elders control? They control how people end their lives as well. Less messy that way. The people get in your car, you drop them off and they simply disappear.”
“Why would the republic want to have them killed?”
“A variety of reasons, really. They owe money to the republic, they insulted one of the members, they did something they weren’t supposed to do and pissed off the wrong people. It could be anything. These aren’t move stars and entertainers you’ll be picking up. Some of them you have to be wary around and all of them are somewhat dangerous.”
Naomi was quiet. He listened to the sounds of the wind against the metal as they made their way to their destination. Peter knew that it was quite a shock, that for someone who wasn’t part of the “family”, what he did could be rather shocking. Peter wondered what kind of life Naomi had experienced so far.
“Sorry.” She said. “It’s a lot to take in.”
“I know.” He said kindly. “You’re going to ride with me for the first day and then you’ll get your own car. Every drop off and pick up is recorded and checked via the powers that be at headquarters.”
“So we’re always being watched?”
“Yes, but they can’t hear what you’re saying. And there is a way to turn everything off.”
“I thought that everything you do is logged?”
“It is, but I know how to get around that. If you’re at this job as long as I am, you learn a few tricks. There’s always a way.”
A beep went off from his personal communicator. He held out his left wrist and tapped it. A screen appeared on his skin and he saw his mothers face. “Peter?” She said. “Can you come, please? I need you.”
He thought about it for a moment. Could he trust Naomi. She seemed bright enough and there was enough of a human spirit left inside her. He could tell from her eyes that she was curious. “Be right there.” He tapped his wrist and the small screen disappeared. He let out a soft sigh.
“What’s wrong?”
She looked genuinely concerned. “Can I trust you?”
“Yes, you can. Your secret is my secret.”
Deciding to go with his gut, he thought he could trust Naomi. There was something about her that told him she’d fought to live her life, just as he had. He said quietly. “We’re taking a little detour.”
Reaching down under the dashboard, he pressed yet another button that few people knew about. The lights inside the cabin went dark, though the car stayed aloft.
“What’s going on? “
“Remember me telling you that I know a way to work around the republics notice? This is it. We’re off the grid now.” Taking the stick shift in hand, he turned the hover car towards another direction of the republic.
He sped towards a large building made of glass and chrome. He parked the hover car at the penthouse parking spot and opened both doors. Saying nothing, Naomi got out and came with him as he made his way towards the entrance.
“Who’s place is this?”
“Mine.”
He said nothing else as they entered and came to the main door of the penthouse suite. He held up his left wrist to the keyhole which scanned it and they heard a click. The door opened and they stepped inside.
Waiting for them was a woman. She had white hair and Peter could tell that she was having one of her episodes. He approached her and said: “What’s wrong?”
“I can’t find my husband!” She wailed. “I know he was here this morning but I can’t find him now. There are no pictures of him or anything. Where did he go, Peter? Why did he leave me?”
“Come here mother. We’ll take you back to bed, he’s waiting for you there.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful. You’re such a good son.”
Gently, he led his mother back to a bedroom, Naomi following close behind. He gave his mother two white tablets and a glass of water. When she had taken them, he watched over her until she fell asleep. He got up to leave but bent down to kiss her softly on the forehead.
They left quickly and got back in the car. When it was airborne, Naomi finally spoke. “That’s your mother.” She said softly.
“Yes. She is.”
“She looks well past the age of seventy-five and has obvious signs of dementia.”
“Yes, she does.”
When Naomi spoke next, her voice was strained. “You know the republic asks that those seventy-five or older submit for voluntary suicide for population control. Added to that, anyone mentally frail or ill is also offered the option.”
“You know as well as I do that it’s not an option. They’d kill her, just take her away from me. She’s my mother.” He said simply.
“I understand.”
They said nothing further on the subject. They picked up and dropped off some passengers and then it was time to call it a day. “Do you think I can ride with you again tomorrow? Pick you up in my own car until I get used to driving it?”
“Sure thing.” Peter said.
The next morning, he was waiting outside the entrance to his penthouse apartment. She had changed into sensible pants and shoes. “Hey, you’re learning.” He let the door slide closed.
“Well, I did have a good teacher.” Naomi said softly. She reached into her coat and pulled out a gun. It was a reductor, able to fry his insides into a soft much. Without lungs or heart or internal organs, death would take him quickly.
“What are you doing?”
“Didn’t you tell me that everyone who gets into one of our cars dies? Now it’s your turn.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Don’t you? The republic was having you followed. I had to report back to them with what I saw when I picked up my car. Did you think they didn’t know about your mother? They needed confirmation. Just know that I’m sorry.”
She fired and the gun and it sent a jolt of electricity through him. He could feel himself melting from the inside out. The darkness began to spread behind his eyes and he knew that he had mere seconds left to live.
Naomi reached out with her free hand and found his, probably so that for his last moment on Earth, he would know the touch of someone else.
“I’m sorry.” She said again.
The Electric Hum of Smoke – A Short Story
Dianne steered her bike carefully through the slums.
She could hear the hum of electricity that was the constant music in her world. To her, it sounded like thousands of slot machines, all going off at once. If you were in the midst of all the lights and bustle of the centre core of the city, it was just as bright.
She eschewed the tram, the monorail that ran through Campton and the other parts of the republic. Family vehicles flew through the air with a constant hum. If you were too poor to afford a family saucer, there was always a hover board. They had grown in popularity as of late.
Dianne liked to go her own way, to use her two feet. She didn’t like to rely on electricity, electronics and technology to get her where she wanted to go. She was considered an odd ball because of this and was an outcast.
She didn’t really mind, but it could get lonely. Living on the edge of Campton, she took her bike everywhere. Dianne still remembered the day she had found it: The bike had been on the trash heap, a forgotten relic from another time. She didn’t know what it was at first, had no idea. However, she knew it was something wonderful.
Taking it home to the slum she lived in, she turned on her computer. She didn’t have much in her life that relied on electricity, but she did have a computer. It gave her access to a world gone by, one that she frequently wished she had been born into. She used it to research things like music, television and travel from long ago and to find out more about a world she wished she had been part of.
Unable to find anything on the Universal web, she took the contraption to the only person who would know: Dickenson. He was the man that ran the black market. He claimed to be from the world before, the world that had existed before electricity had taken over, before people depended on gadgets to help them walk, speak or even think.
He claimed to be from hundreds of years ago. Dianne knew that this was possible if you wanted it. It was possible to live for as long as you wanted to, if you had enough money and enough access to the medicine that would keep you alive that long.
Dickenson claimed that his body hadn’t been altered, that he had no implants or electric parts in his body, nothing to enhance his eyes or his vision. He claimed to be just as the Gods made him. Dianne knew that there was no way he was hundreds of years old without having a little help, but there was no electric hum emanating from him. For all she knew, he was telling the truth, or his version of it.
His face had shone when he had seen it. “Where did you find that?”
“On the trash heap. It was buried under tons of other stuff, furniture and gizmos and the like.”
Calling it a trash heap was a bit a misnomer. It was actually a sea of trash and it took up an entire fraction of Campton. There were all kinds of things to be found there if you were brave enough to look. Some people, those that were homeless, lived there, eked out a life among the refuse and dug a home out of the things left behind.
“Well, you certainly found something useful though I doubt anyone would want it.”
“What is it?” Dianne asked, unable to keep the curiosity out of her voice.
“It’s a bicycle, or bike. Here, let me show you how to ride it.”
That had been three years ago. Her bike was Dianne’s constant companion. Now in terms of prized possessions, she had only two: her computer and her bike. She rode it now, once again heading towards Dickenson’s black market.
It had grown a lot over three years. Instead of just a garage, it now spanned a whole city block, largely underneath the city; all the better to keep it hidden. The Enforcers cracked down on black market trades but only if they could find them.
As she made her way towards Dickenson’s, she rummaged in a satchel. She slowed when she saw Sliver, a woman with skin as silver as her name. She had tried a skin transplant but the doctors hadn’t told her that they had gotten the skin from an unknown lifeform. The rosy hue of her skin gone, she left to go to the slums. It was safer for her there.
Silver smiled when she saw Dianne. “You got my order, honey?”
“You know it, though I don’t know why you bother. You’re already beautiful.”
“Yeah, yeah, so you keep telling me. Now do you have it?”
Dianne pulled out the slim tube and held it out to Silver. “That’s fifty credits.”
“Gosh, why not just rob me?”
“You have no idea what I did to get this. Trust me, fifty credits is cheap.”
“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” She held out her wrist and Dianne did the same. Dianne looked down at her wrist and saw that the screen was showing her balance of credits. It had just shot up twenty pieces. Of course, the wristwares were normally monitored by government and the republic, but Dickenson had hooked her up with one that wasn’t monitored by anyone. Most of the people in the slums had one designed by him.
“Thanks Diana.”
Dianne grimaced. “You know my name is Dianne.”
“I know, but I think that Diana sound prettier. Oh, and Ms. Kowalis was looking for you. Wants to see if you can get her some spare parts for her viewfinder.”
“I already got them. I’ll go see her after I see Dickenson.”
“I’ll let her know if I see her. Thanks Diana.” She looked back over her shoulder and gave Dianne a wicked grin.
Dianne smiled despite herself and got back on her bicycle. She headed towards the main entrance to Dickson’s. You now had to go through a maze of streets to find the entrance and only the people who shopped there knew where it was. It was a location that spread by word of mouth. This helped keep away those that would only cause trouble and helped Dickenson keep a low profile.
Zooming down a narrow street, Dianne came to the entrance. It was made to look like just an alleyway, with soot markings and crumbled streets, but only those in the know knew that it was something else altogether. She drove her bicycle up to the entrance of the alleyway and waited.
A wide red laser beam erupted with bright light in front of her. Then it spoke: *State your name and business.*
Looking into the red light, Dianne remembered to keep her heart rate steady. The laser was programmed to read the heart beat and scan the eyes of each person entering the black market. It had pained Dickenson to do this, but needs must. He had almost been overthrown twice; it would not happen a third time.
“Dianne Hartstock. I seek an audience with Dickenson.”
The red light bathed her in its glow and for a moment, all Dianne could see was the colour red. Then the ground beneath her feet started to rumble softly and a voice said *You may enter.*
It always astounded Dianne as the ground began to fall away, moving as if by an unseen hand. Dianne watched as the ground fell downward and began to form itself into steps. Then the rumbling stopped and Dianne took her first step down into the darkness.
As she descended, she began to hear the noises of the people going about their shopping and trading for goods they couldn’t find anywhere else. Dianne was always on the lookout for objects from a past she wasn’t from: records (she had been told they had been played with needles), cassette tapes (imagine there being songs on simple brown tape! She had a complete set of David Bowie cassettes.) and other trinkets. What Dianne most loved were the books. She relished being able to read without the aid of an eScreen or a vid screen. The story came more alive when she could actually hold it.
Dickenson was waiting for her at the front of the crowd. She smiled when she saw him coming towards her and felt that rush of heat she normally experienced when she saw him. He had dark curly hair and his chin was always covered in stubble. He also had a thin build but she didn’t let that fool her. She had seen him manhandle roughnecks that tried to cause trouble. She knew that every inch of him was muscle. He made her think of a sexy librarian.
“Dianne! Glad you could make it! Come on, I have something to show you.”
“Oh, is it more books? I loved the Jane Austen one. Hard to believe that that story was written thousands of years ago.”
“It’s better than a book. It’s a choice between this life and a better one. Come with me.”
He had a mischievous gleam in his eyes and she took his hand as he led her away from the crowd in the black market and down a hallway she hadn’t been to before. The hallway led to another staircase that led further downwards.
“What do you want to show me?”
“I’ll tell you when we’re there. You have to see it. Don’t worry, Dianne, I’ll keep you safe.” He squeezed her hand as if to emphasize this.
“Okay, lead the way.”
They went down one staircase and another, further downward than she had ever been before. She was actually starting to feel afraid. Her breathing was shallower and there was a film of sweat breaking out on her skin. Dickenson sensed her mood change and gave her hand another squeeze.
“Just a few more steps, Dianne. Then you’ll see what I wanted to show you.”
Indeed, there were only three steps left and they turned around a corner and Dianne felt her breath leave her momentarily.
They were standing on front of the largest indoor body of water she had ever seen. The water seemed to change colour, first blue, then green, then aquamarine. There was a smoke that rose off of the water and there was a hum in the air, as if the smoke itself was singing to her.
How long she stood there looking at the water she didn’t know. She jumped when Dickenson touched her shoulder. Turning to him, she tried to calm her breathing and her heartbeat, both of which were racing.
“What is this place?”
“It’s what I wanted to show you.”
“I’ve seen it. But what is it?”
He was quiet for a moment and she could see him trying to find the words to answer her question. Finally, he said “Do you remember me telling you that I’m over one hundred years old?”
“Yes, and I still find that hard to believe.”
“Well, it’s not true, I’m actually thirty-two, but I’m from hundreds of years go.”
Dianne let out a laugh that echoed around the cavern. The echo sung along with the electric hum of the smoke that rose off of the water. When Dickenson didn’t laugh with her, she stopped laughing. “You’re serious.”
“Yes, I am. I came from the year 1983. I came from there.” He pointed at the water.
“That’s not possible.”
“Well, human regeneration shouldn’t be possible, but it is.”
“I don’t understand.”
“No, of course you don’t. I’m not explaining it properly.” He took a breath and began again. “I was working in a sanitation plant at the time and we got all manner of water filled with all sorts of chemicals that we had to clean. The water was so contaminated that I couldn’t believe we were sending it back out into the world.”
“That sounds horrible.”
“It was. Even worse, there was an accident at work one day and one of the vats ended up releasing all of the water. I was the only one hit because I was working the floor that day. I was covered in it and every manner of waste. They took me to the hospital and I was left alone. The doctors said nothing was wrong with me, that time was all I needed to heal. But in the morning, I noticed that I was starting to disappear.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Exactly that, Dianne. I looked at my hand and could see through it. Then it was my arm and my other hand. My legs came next. Within the hour, I was completely invisible. I decided to lay down and sleep, hoping rest would give my head a shake. When I woke, I was here.” He pointed at the water. “Here at the waters edge.”
Dianne knew that everything he was saying should be lunacy, but one look at him convinced her that he was telling her the truth. She could feel it in her heart. “Why are you showing me this?”
“Well, this water was clean, it didn’t have the smoke the contaminated water had. I had to find the right mix of chemicals. I heard the humming from the smoke early this evening and knew I had finally found the right mix. I think it’s my way back, our way back if you’ll come with me.”
Dianne could only star at him. “What do you mean our way back?”
“Back to 1983. You’re always obsessing over a past you’ve never lived and don’t fit in here. I’ve been obsessing about a past that I did live and I think this is the way back. All we have to do is take a swim.”
He took both of her hands in his and looked right into her eyes. “Can you imagine it, Dianne? A world where David Bowie is alive, a world with no wrist scanners or the republic. A world where technology hasn’t taken over.”
“But it will take over, won’t it?”
“Yes, but we won’t be alive to see it. We’re a long way from 1983 so if we go back, we’ll never see any of this again. What do you say?”
“What about my life here?”
“And what kind of life is that? No family, no friends? Nothing to hope for but a life in the slums.”
“You’d leave all of this behind?”
“I would. And I want you with me.”
While holding her hand, he stepped into the water. The smoke swirled around him and the electric hum grew stronger. “Say you’ll come with me. Please Dianne.”
Looking at him, she watched as his skin began to go translucent, as if it were shining from within. She stepped into the water with him and her skin started shining.
All they had to do now was wait.
The Door to Life – A Poem
For some time,
everywhere I went
there was a
door that followed
me. It was
scarred and its
paint was peeling,
its door knob
was rusted. On
the door was
written one word:
Life
I would see
the door out
of the corner
of my eye
no matter where
I went. It
would appear in
front of me
while I was
walking, always a
step ahead of
me. For a
while, I was
the only one
who could see
it. The door changed
as the years
went by. The
paint changed colour,
it looked even
more aged as
I got older.
Finally, one of
my friends noticed
the door. She
nudged me in
the ribs softly.
“You know there’s a door there, right?”
I looked at
her, surprised that
she could see it.
“You can see it too?”
I asked. She
nodded and said
“Of course I can. How long has that been following you around?”
I shrugged.
“Quite some time. Years actually.”
She gaped at
me and said:
“Why haven’t you gone through it yet?”
“Because I have no idea where it will lead.”
“Isn’t that part of the fun? Life is meant to be experienced. Open the door and find out where it goes.”
I walked home,
the door following
me. It had
begun to pulse
and shift, almost
as if it were
starting to fade.
It stood in
the middle of
my living room.
The word on
the door,
Life
had begun to
glow, the door
handle shining brilliantly.
I took a
deep breath and
reached for the
door handle, expecting
it to be
white hot in
my hand. Instead,
it was as
if a calming
breeze filled my
skin. I opened
the door slowly
and, at first,
saw only light.
Then a shape
began to become
clear. I was
looking at the
shape of a
man. He held
out his hand
to me and
I took it.
“Come with me.”
You said.
“There is so much of life waiting to be explored.”
I stepped through
the door and
felt my life
begin anew.
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Jamieson Wolf has written a compelling story about navigating multiple sclerosis and cerebral palsy. His story will touch your heart, make you cry, then laugh, and inspire you. A touching memoir with a bit of magic…and tarot! ~ Theresa Reed, author of The Tarot Coloring Book
Jamieson Wolf 