PAPERBACK BOOKS
A SHARED MADNESS 

When Sabian Daniels loses his adoptive parents in a car accident, he embarks upon a journey of self discovery, with characters that seem larger than life, but conceal something more sinister.
There is death, new life given from a distant
mountain top, love and suspense in this Science Fiction thriller.

 

In Store Price: $AU23.00 
Online Price:   $AU22.00

ISBN: 1 920699 79 1
Format: Paperback
Number of pages: 258
Genre: New age thriller
 


Author: Gabe Gerdes 
Imprint: Poseidon
Publisher: Poseidon Books
Date Published: September 2003
Language: English

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ONE

A place called home 

   Where did my lost generation go to so fast? I turned my back and they were gone. To believe you belong; only to suddenly find out youíre alone. Protection then becomes rejection and isolation becomes fear. With the unknown approaching steadily, to embrace it might mean danger, but to ignore it could bring disaster.

   To show courage in facing challenges and unforeseen obstacles is opportunity for growth and should you choose to avoid these, your vulnerabilityís can haunt you. In a sense itís an examination. Will you allow new experiences to make you stronger when radical change comes bursting through? When you think you have established character will you then despise that character once itís defined you?

   Now I have a story to tell, humble in its awakening where my adolescent wanderlust seeks out new experience that was never looked for in my own home. When this opportunity comes begging, once in a lifetime is never quite enough.

   First memories of anything are memories of innocence where clouded thoughts misinterpret information in vast quantities.

A whirlwind of questions & confusion - you know youíre alive but are unable to comprehend the reason why.

   To firstly explain myself I was introduced to my parents at an early age, but not as early as a child would hope if given the chance to choose. The reason for this was because I was not born to the parents who raised me. I was adopted at the tender age of three. My real parents, of what Iíve been told, were victims of poverty who couldnít afford to provide me with even a tiny bed. They left me on the steps of a hospital. I never felt bitter yearnings, nor sorrow, nor hate.

   Fortune smiled one fine day when devoted; adopting parents took me under their protective wing. They treated me like their own son and this made it easy to behave like one.

   To briefly describe them, my fathers name was Tom Daniels. He was a man of distinction and full of praise for me. If a wrong could be corrected, it was done so without angry words raised. Everyone who knew him said so with pride.

   His wife, my mother was an angel in disguise. She was a woman unable to ever bear her own child. Her name was Grace and as her name implied she displayed this charming quality always. She was a gentle, affectionate woman, thoughtful and kind. No harsh words ever left her lips, nor I suspect were ever considered in thought.

   We lived in a small country town, nestled in a deep valley where the population never grew beyond that old assumption that in a small community each face would always be known. Your business was everyoneís business - secrets werenít kept, but instead, lives were shared.

   Our family home was situated on the outskirts of town. A long white picket fence and a wide bush bracketed driveway

led up to the front door, where parked outside was our faithful campervan that was always willing to take us on short journeys away.

   Our house was a home in the truest sense of the word. It was a comfortable and peaceful dwelling with a fireplace downstairs and panoramic view from each of the upstairs bedrooms overlooking miles of lush green pastures under acres of blue sky. The sun refused to set until stars could be seen in the clear southern sky.

   Family values were the order of day. My parentís fortitude and understanding were qualities I aspired to.

There was also their youthful sense of humour. We were comfortable and content.

   Such was the pleasant atmosphere we shared in our family life. What could possibly go wrong in this state of perpetual harmony? What destructive upheaval could shatter the serenity of us, the fortunate few?

   To remember the day it happened is to remember a pain that will never go away. A moment etched in time where intense emotion previously dormant erupted to become a memory I tried hard to forget.

   I was sitting pleasantly alone on the front porch of the family home with my radio beside me playing upbeat songs. My parents had gone away for the day on a short journey to the waterfalls, which were no more than fifty miles away. I had declined their offer to go along.

   When the local news of the hour came over the radio my mind was far away from being tuned in with what the newsreader had to say. But as his voice stressed urgency that something serious had happened, it caught my attention. He explained in graphic detail a serious accident that had occurred within the hour involving a head-on collision between a campervan and semi-trailer. The impact caused both vehicles to veer off the road and plummet down a steep incline. There were no survivors. I held my breath, refusing to believe it could be them.  But when he announced the number plates of the vehicles involved, all hope was lost.

   Sudden despair rocked me. Confusion paralysed my mind and I sat stunned. The news sunk in hard, but the world didnít stop revolving, nor was there a minuteís silence before a song about someoneís sweet baby filled the airwaves in blatant mockery of my pain.

   My world had just collapsed. It all seemed too unreal. How could life resume any sort of normality after such a tremendous blow to my safe foundations? It didnít make sense, nothing did any more. I wanted to sink rather than swim, go down with the ship.

   Were they victims of chance if Ďchanceí was at all to blame? Was it just that they were in the wrong place at the wrong time or was this their unavoidable and tragic destiny that fate had dealt them?

   I grieved for my parents who represented love and missed their warmth and laughter. It was a loss unequalled and beyond repair.

    Where to go from here? This was the question swimming around inside my blurred head. Although my parents had left me the house in their will, I couldnít stay there. Not with all those fond memories to consume and haunt me. I had to move on, and move fast, far away and leave all that behind.

   To start afresh was the only coherence that came to mind. With the little money I had saved I packed all my essentials into my travel sack and after a brief, intoxicating glance of sadness back at the family home, I turned and walked away leaving my past in mortal ruins behind me.

   Although wanting to leave fast I had one important engagement to attend. This was the funeral of my beloved parents. The grief experienced at the morose gathering turned my suffering into cries for help, doubting my strength to cope on my own. I wanted to mourn in private, pay my respects for their lives, not their deaths, without the alien onlookers who couldnít share in what I felt. If this was selfishness then others were ignorant as to my depth of feeling for both the deceased and the one they left behind.

 

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