Author: Seanpaul Thomas
Series: Stand Alone
Genre: Contemporary/Dark/Adult Fiction/British Men's Adventure
Publisher: Paul Thomas Publishing
Release Date: Aug 2014
Blurb/Synopsis:
If you knew you only had a short time left to live on this planet, really live. What would you do with that precious time?
A dark, sexy, black humorous tale of sex, violence, the male psyche, and an unstoppable whirlwind adventure of finding love in the least likely location.
Short Synopsis - Set in modern day Edinburgh - A man with terminal brain cancer decides to rebel against society and go out with a bang by living out his dreams and most wild fantasies. But even when he finds love and a new lease of life, it fails to stop his new adventurous ways from spiraling into an unstoppable train wreck of carnage.
Long Synopsis - Set in modern day Edinburgh, an average everyday working man in his mid-thirties is given the devastating news that he has terminal Brain Cancer. Refusing any kind of help or Chemo, he struggles with overbearing thoughts on becoming a better person and giving into his natural urges, social fears and sexual desires to do and act however the hell he pleases. No longer wishing to obey the rules and regulations of monotonous everyday life. Now our hero yearns to know what it's like to live a life without regret and consequences while his mind is still a healthy functioning one. The story unfolds with a slow burning tension as our hero eventually turns his back on modern day society and begins using his terminal illness as a license to act out his biggest dreams and fantasies. Good and bad. While also squaring up to a couple of long time buried, but not forgotten, demons from his past. But when he finds love along the way even that comes with a heavy price.
****WARNING CONTAINS THE FOLLOWING****
Scottish dialect/slang, Strong Violence and Language in parts and a couple of Graphic Sex Scenes.
Excerpt
I couldn't help wonder if she gave good head as I sat
opposite the middle aged doctor inside her private office at the Royal. She'd
just told me that I had some form of terminal Brain Cancer, but it hadn't
registered properly because I wasn't paying attention to her words any longer.
She was overweight, apple figured, yet with a cute round face that could still
turn heads walking past a building site, although couldn't anything in a skirt
these days? I imagined she'd been one of the popular pretty girls back in high
school. Back in the days when she'd at least had her figure under some lenient
control.
I couldn't take my eyes away from a tiny little bubble of
spit on her lower lip. It made me aroused watching it linger there all
seductively, taunting me. I felt an irresistible urge to just lean over and
lick it gently from her face. But I controlled it. I refocused. My mind snapped
back to reality. Fear and sadness once again overwhelmed my thoughts. Something
in the air felt wrong. Very, very wrong. I lowered my head, raising my hands at
the same time. Halfway into the motion the two met and I found myself buried
face deep inside my cupped hands.
'I just, I just can't take this in.'
Even though I was Scottish and had lived in the country on
and off since birth, the Scottish accent I'd acquired over the years never
really dominated my tongue like most born and raised locals. The Doc was proper
south of the border English though and sighed hard before responding.
'I'm so, so sorry Liam.'
I tore my face away from my hands, gently shaking my head
before smirking sarcastically.
'So how long huh? How long have I got?'
The doctor sighed.
'Please Liam. Don't do this.'
'Come on eh? What's my sentence? Best guess. Give it to me.'
'Liam, I really couldn't say.'
'How about the last person you diagnosed. How long did they
get huh?'
The doc remained silent. Curiously observing me with both
sorrow and pity. She really wanted to give me a good positive answer I could
tell. A wee bit of good news for the long road ahead. But of course that
wouldn't be very honest of her now would it? So all she could do was stare.
Briefly I wondered if she found me attractive too. I
imagined making my seductive move on her. Would she welcome it? Would she let
me stick my tongue deep inside her mouth and move it around, entangling it with
her own, before letting me run my hands all over her soft plump body in the
process. Would she enjoy it? Would she make the move for my zipper and then...
My wondering mind snapped back to reality and a rage consumed me.
'Well let's hear it then doc, Jesus!' I exploded, unable to
contain my frustration mixed with sexual desire. 'It's like waiting for the
bloody X factor results for Christ sake.'
She shifted in her seat. Shaken abruptly from her staring
trance by my quickly increasing aggressive manner.
'With treatment, Chemo, I don't know Liam. Maybe a year,
maybe less. That's my best guess.'
I refocused upon that tiny spit bubble again. It calmed me.
Soothed me immensely. It made me feel good. Fuck the chemo. All that shite just
to be able to cling to a few extra months of life. To hope for a year at best.
My Uncle had passed away a few years earlier with Leukaemia and it made my
stomach churn just thinking about all the crap he had to put up with when he
could have been doing something else with his time. Something more memorable
and productive with the end of his life.
Screw that shite. I'm out of here.
I nodded kindly at the doc. Thanked her for all the
information she'd passed onto me and left. She stood abruptly. Calling out to
me about making an appointment with some other specialist next week. More
tests. More horseshit clairvoyancey. More wasted time and taxpayers money. I
wasn't listening anymore.
I walked past the cancer ward's waiting room filled with
more sad cases and zombified victims waiting to be told about their afflictions
and survival rates. I kept walking. She fell out of ear shot. I followed one of
the ridiculously coloured lines on the hospital floor leading to some other
part of the hospital. I choose the yellow lined path leading for the exit. I
felt like the fucking Scarecrow from the wizard of Oz. 'Oh we're off to see the
Wizard...' But there would be no magical wizard or magic cure lying in wait for
me with a new brain at the end of this brick road.
I made my way outside. Grey skies towered and rumbled above,
urinating upon me with their wet drizzle. A storm was coming. A big fucking
storm. When I reached the car park a cool breeze gratefully hit my face like a
soft cool fan on a humid summers day. It felt good to be outside. To be at one
and at peace with natures earthly fresh air. It felt good to be alive. They say
that some people, some lucky few on this earth, only really appreciate life and
it's real meaning when they're given their own personal expiry date.
But oh how I've pondered over the meaning of it all these
past few weeks since having the possibility of a near terminal end thrown in my
face. The things we do to live a so called long, healthy and normal life. The
empty meaningless, monotonous, mundane tasks, hobbies, activities, careers,
love, sex, friends, family, people and all the other trivia shite we fill our
empty lives with. All of them doing there very best to fill some hollow void in
our conscious minds and distract us from the day to day process of growing
older and nudging another step, another minute, another hour, closer towards
our inevitable deaths. Our species, Mother Earth's very own terminal cancer,
have never been so spiritual or intellectually minded in all of our existence
than we are today. Yet we are still narrow minded and rammed full of such
pretentious and superficial self importance, convinced that our own individual
lives have much more worth and meaning than that of any of our fellow
neighbours lives, while still harbouring some hope and belief that there will
be a simple, perfect meaning and explanation to it all in our final conscious
hour. Our minds have evolved so far beyond our basic animal caveman way of
thinking, yet we still actually harbour the possibility that there is going to
be some kind of redemption. Some sort of beautiful ray of light or a magical
white bearded wizard welcoming us at the end of it all. Oh what images and
illusions of grandeur our minds conjure up at our most desperate times of need.
Let me tell you about the meaning of life. We are all acts
of a random nature and none of us should even be here right now in the first
place. So embrace it. And anyone alive and reading my words should count
themselves one of the lucky ones. For your conscious mind is still here in this
moment.
Born in London to Scottish and Irish parents, Sean spent
most of his childhood and teenage years growing up on the move in the likes of
Cyprus, Germany, Wales and England as an army brat. With a keen interest in
both reading and writing he was diagnosed with the travel and writing bugs very
early on in life. Now, writing, reading
and traveling are his main passions in life, but he also loves outdoor sports
too from Rugby and Hiking to Tennis and Boxing. His main inspiration for
writing today comes from living in such a beautiful, Gothic and hauntingly, awe
inspiring city such as Edinburgh. This charming wee city has given Sean so much
amazing inspiration to write the more time he spends there.
At this moment Sean is writing another two books, one is a
sequel to his science fiction novel Alone. The other is about an alcoholic man
down on his luck and still dwelling over past tragedies. Who, after a failed
suicide attempt, falls for a single mother with an even darker and secretive
tragic past than his own.
So far he has two
published work of fiction
And four self-published
novels.
Places to find SeanPaul
Places to find Lust for Life
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