SYNOPSIS
The story tells the adventure of a 13-year-old day-dreaming boy on a psychedelic adventure through different worlds guided by a pair of men living in a half-way-house between death and heaven. The book covers issues of violence, religion, reality television and music with a fresh style of writing and could be described as Harry Potter meets the Yellow Submarine.
The story begins with the two characters, Thomas and Ciro, who live in a home for the dead. They refuse to believe they have died because they have either left too much behind or have too many regrets. Thomas, a World War One pilot, was shot through his eye after he had met the love of his life that morning. Ciro, an Italian fashion designer, stole his brother’s clothes-designs to gain a scholarship to fashion school, leaving his sibling impoverished and stuck in their home village.
The second story, running parallel to this, begins with the second chapter and revolves around a 13-year-old boy called John. Pre-disposed to day-dreaming, he is in trouble at school for staring into space for long periods and not concentrating in class. As the story progresses through an increasingly surreal world, it hopefully leads the reader to question if the evolving adventure is based on the young boy’s fertile imagination, or is actually happening.
John arrives into a new world on each chapter, helped along the way by a 10ft kangaroo called Martin, who we discover later is a manifestation of Ciro, who accidentally killed his brother in a zoo by pushing him into a kangaroo pen where he was trampled to death. John is also helped by the mysterious Boy with One Eye , who we discover later, is a manifestation of Thomas.
Chapter One.
Thomas knew what it was like being close to death? He wondered if other people would admit everything before they found themselves in his situation. He thought they probably would. He shuffled down the white corridor with his newspaper in one hand and a cup of tea in the other thinking these thoughts. His slippers made no sound on the ‘white as white’ floor and his dressing gown hung loosely over his wiry frame. The young man was looking forward to the day ahead, but then he looked forward to every day. He also knew it was time to move on, as he had been here too long, it was more of a feeling than some imparted knowledge from a reliable source. He swept his long grey hair from his eyes and placed his half moon spectacles on top of his head, like a hair band, to stop the hair from falling in his eyes. He liked his hair long as he felt it fit his current demeanour, why it was grey for a relatively young aged man, Thomas could only guess. He did, however, have his ideas.
On his way to breakfast he passed his old friend, Ciro, who had just come out of the shower wearing a white bathrobe and, comically for a slightly older man than himself, a towel spiralled on top of his head to dry his hair. Thomas associated the look more with the female species than the male. This was Ciro, doing and saying funny things without realising he was doing them. His apparent innocence from not realising his natural comic ability only enhanced his humorous appeal.
“Morning, Ciro,” Thomas said.
“Morning to you, Thomas,” replied Ciro.
Thomas continued to shuffle lazily down the corridor that appeared to continue on forever into a vortex of bright white light. It wasn’t a harsh whiteness that would hurt your eyes and give you a headache. The light permeated all in a warm glow. After a while walking down the corridor, Thomas turned immediately left and appeared to walk through a wall. He in fact, simply pushed through a door but because the white spotless halls were so clean, the light gelling all corners and smoothing all edges and lines. On the other side of the door that had not appeared to be there before, the grey haired young man found a contrasting dusky light in which he could not see more than a few feet in front of him.
As yet, there was no one in the room that Thomas had entered. Sometimes the sizeable living room could be packed to the walls or sometimes, it could be just Thomas and his friend, Ciro.
Thomas settled down with his cup of tea in the darkened room. The lights were always dimmed but light enough to see where you were walking to and where to sit. It was possible that Thomas might not know whom he was sitting next to if he had not walked into the room with them. Sometimes, there could be five people in the room and sometimes there could be up to thirty. The living room might be more accurately described as a small cinema with six rows of comfy padded cinema seats all facing a large television screen at one end of the rectangular. The screen itself flickered on and off working its way through a series of images causing the room to brighten then fade. To work the screen took a small while to teach yourself and it had taken Thomas about a week. Once you had it nailed though, everything fell into place and it was dead easy. Thomas took a sip of his strong, sugary white tea and adjusted his brain to the screen. The television was controlled through your thoughts playing memories of your past life and this morning, Thomas decided to watch his life when he was a ten year old boy. After a while, Ciro joined him, ducking his head under the projector light to sit next to his friend. He also drank a cup of strong sugary white tea as the pair laughed together watching a daft young Thomas running around on the screen. Despite this moment of levity, Ciro had felt that his friend was down in the dumps about something for several days now. He has been moping around the place and was not his usual up-beat chatty self. Thomas decided to mention this to his old buddy.
“You seem a little sad today Thomas. What’s up?” said Ciro. Thomas shifted uncomfortably in his seat and couldn’t look his friend in the eye. Ciro persisted with his enquiry; “I’ve known you a long time, Brother, and I can tell when there is something troubling you. You know there are no secrets here. You don’t have to tell me now but we have all eternity here so you re going to have to cough up the goods some time.”
Thomas liked it when Ciro called him Brother although they were not relatives. He also liked his friend’s ability to read him like a book, but at the same time he did not like to be read so easily read.
On that thought Thomas said: “You know there are two sides to every story? Well I haven’t been telling you the whole story.” The grey haired man shook his head while speaking as if this were a thought he was casting from his mind, like a dog would shake itself free of water after a swim. Some loose hair swung from the man’s head and he hurriedly tucked it back behind an ear. Thomas’s gaze fell upon the eyes of Ciro and he felt as if he was looking into his soul.
Thomas continued to talk: “You know that old suitcase I have under my bed?” Ciro replied that he did. Thomas elaborated: “It has to go. It contains too many memories for me. Some very good, some very bad and I’ve been holding on to both for too long. I can’t seem to get on with things here while that big old battered bag lies under my bed, day in day out, reminding me of a previous life.”
Ciro nodded slowly as if he understood. There was a long silence between the two friends then a small smile curled up at either side of Ciro’s mouth as he said; “Well you know Thomas, everyone has some baggage they carry around with them. Stop walking around like you are in a prison in your mind. It’s only you that has the key to free yourself. I would say it’s finally time to get rid of that case that seems to be haunting you.”
It was as if Thomas had always had that idea in the back of his mind but had never really seen the idea until now. Now the thought had been put there, there was no turning back.
“A problem shared is a problem halved brother,” said Ciro.
An excitement gripped Thomas and he felt like a young boy again. He hurriedly got off his seat and with Ciro in tow, they left the movie room and shuffled quickly down the bright white corridor to his bedroom. Pushing through a door that had not appeared to be there before, the duo entered the room. With all his might, Thomas dragged the battered suitcase from beneath his bed.
“What are you going to do Thomas?” enquired a now slightly amused Ciro.
“Give me a hand,” puffed Thomas as he dragged it over to the window.
“You’re not really are you?” laughed Ciro, “We don’t know what’s down there!”
Indeed, ever since they had both come to their new home it had been a topic of conversation amongst many of the accommodation’s dwellers...
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