Let me tell you, it’s a page turner. A few up’s and downs, rocky times and hardships, but on the whole a very enjoyable read. A book you want to step into, if the ink would cover you in the reality of its words and create the world around you.
Then…the final chapter..
You’re slightly shocked the book is ending so soon, but you think, maybe the author is writing a series. You turn the page and… WHAM! Hit with the tragedy. This is where most films begin, with the “inciting incident” that propels the action forward. But no, this is where your story is ending.
The chapter presents nothing but blow after blow. The words take on a dark beastly form and embed themselves upon the page. Geeze! Will this chapter ever lighten up?! But it just gets worse. When you think nothing else could go wrong, the cute cat in the story (bought to comfort the characters souls) never returns home. Probably eaten by a fox.
In disbelief, you read on. “Surely reprieve is on the next page.”
Death moves in; page after page, after page, after page, after appointment, after treatment, after recovery, after meds, after treatment, after bad days, after good days, after meds, after waiting room, after bad coffee, after moving the car for the fourth time, after surgery, after hospital, after home again, after scan, after waiting room, after another ‘Women’s Weekly’ from 2004, after X-ray, after health smoothy, after sick bucket, after results, after party pies, after waiting room, after treatment, after shaved head, after tears, after hope, after fight, after fall…death weaves its way into the story.
“Normal” life has had a costume change and the scene takes on its own rhythm. You’ve no choice but to go with it, lest you stand dumbfounded in the spotlight while the audience wait for your next move. Improvisation becomes your forté.
Time is running out, there’s only a few pages left. The end looms in the not so far distance and you feel its weight in every moment. It’s exhausting. It’s actually beyond exhausting.
In your arms, you gather up all the “lasts”. Last smile, last look, last touch, last words…
Then it ends.
It’s over. All of it. The trauma, the drama, the intensity, the heartache, the rhythm…it all stops, so suddenly. And you’re left in a space you cannot describe. You close the cover and stare at the story in shock. “Really? That’s it? There are no more pages, no next book? This can’t be right….”