Remember the dark gold scent from the incense burners in Saint-Sulpice. And the purple scent of the rotting flowers surrounding the coffin in St. Theodosius.
Remember the growlers smashing shopwindows on the Champs-Élysées, and the car alarms cutting the air like knives. We are not. We are not. Part of the machine.
Remember the warm, sweet taste of the chocolate served at the Vickerson factory.
Remember Emily embracing me and pressing her body against mine. And then her last look before she disappeared into the night.
I stopped at Eighty-Sixth Street. When I stared up at the red light, my Spark broke free from its prison and passed through the top of the car. Like an angel, I floated above the traffic and the concrete and those bits of life hurrying down the sidewalk.
I could have flown higher, circling the proud towers with an angel’s cold purity, but my Shell saved me. As the light turned green I breathed in air and the Spark returned to my body. I was wounded and bleeding and lost and alone, but I finally wanted something—I wanted to live.
“Continue north,” Laura whispered. “Continue north.…”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I want to thank Jason Kaufman and Simon Lipskar for having faith in me.
The talented book designer Jason Booher transformed my scrawled drawings into illustrations. It was a pleasure to work with him.
I’m grateful to Glyn for his years of work on wespeakforfreedom.com. Many thanks to Ursula and Tony for their help and advice.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
John Twelve Hawks is the author of the New York Times bestsellers The Traveler, The Dark River, and The Golden City.
John Twelve Hawks, Spark: A Novel
Thank you for reading books on BookFrom.Net Share this book with friends