Traveling without warning. Nights lost to supernatural journeys. Is one
young man fated to wander far from safety?
New York State, 1833. Noah Munch longs to fit in. Living with a mother who communes with ghosts and a brother with a knack for heroics, the seventeen-year-old wishes he were fearless enough to discover an extraordinary purpose of his own. But when he mysteriously awakens in the bedroom of the two beautiful daughters of the meanest man in town, he realizes his odd sleepwalking ability could potentially be deadly.
Convinced
that leaving civilization is the only way to keep himself and others safe, Noah
pursues his dream of becoming a mountain man and slips away into the primeval
woods. But after a strong summer storm devastates his camp, the troubled lad
finds his mystical wanderings have only just begun.
Can
Noah find his place before he’s destroyed by a ruthless world?
Waking
Up Lost is the immersive fourth book in the Adirondack Spirit Series of
historical fiction. If you like coming-of-age adventures, magical realism, and
stories of life on the American frontier, then you’ll love David
Fitz-Gerald’s compelling chronicle.
Buy Waking Up Lost to map out
destiny today!
Trigger Warnings:
Rape, torture, cruelty to animals, sex, violence.
Buy Links:
Available on
#KindleUnlimited.
¸.•*´¨)✯ ¸.•*¨) ✮ ( ¸.•´✶
EXCERPT
I’m outdoors, shivering, and I have no idea where I am. I’m lying on solid rock, perhaps a giant boulder, and the wind whips at me from every direction, all at once. Cold rain is falling, and little bits of ice, perhaps freezing rain, are mixed in. I can’t see very far, no more than a couple of yards into the darkness. Then I realize this is not a dream, and it is not a nightmare. It has happened again. As terrible as my predicament seems at the moment, I’m relieved not to be inside someone’s house.
I pick a direction and crawl along a path that I hope will lead me to somewhere I can take cover. I wish that my pack basket and survival tools were with me. Instead, I’m barefoot in my nightshirt and night cap, outdoors in the middle of the night, during a storm. I find shelter between four giant boulders and scoot as far back as I can within the opening. I sit with my back against a cold rock, pull my knees to my chest, and tuck my feet under the bottom of my nightshirt, hoping to capture some warmth at that extremity. I pull my arms into my sleeves and cross them over my chest. I tuck my mouth under the neckband of my nightshirt and breathe the warmth from my body back over my core. I plan to stay in this position until the weather breaks or morning comes. I have plenty of time to contemplate my situation. This is the third time that I have awakened in a strange place. People may think that it is sleepwalking, but I know better. There is no way I could have sleepwalked my way here.
I scream into the darkness, “What do you want from me?” The swirling winds swallow my plea. I reach my hands up through the neck hole of my nightshirt and sob into them.
Exhaustion overtakes me again. I yawn and doze off, aware that I might freeze to death in the elements and never awaken again. I don’t care. I’m not sure how long I sleep or how I come to be awake again, but I’m shivering violently. I sit forward and gaze out of the hole into the night. The storm is gone, and I see brightly twinkling stars in an expansive firmament. The air is still but cold. The sky is bright enough that I can see far off into the distance. I take a deep breath and experience a wave of wonder. I’m standing on top of a mountain in the middle of the night. I jump up and down to get my blood moving and to warm myself. I bend and stretch my fingers, and then do jumping jacks. I’m grateful to find warmth return to my body. I must keep moving.
Carefully, I set out to explore the mountain top. I can see the faintest smudge of color, yellow and orange on the horizon, that must be east. The top of this mountain is a vast rocky dome. I walk warily on top of it, not afraid of the heights, but mindful not to fall.
I feel a swelling in my chest, a sense of wonder that I’ve never experienced before. Last night, I asked my maker, “Why me,” and I was shown this sight. I bounce for warmth on the tips of my feet. I watch as the sunrise spreads across the heavens beneath and in front of me. I keep looking to my left and right, as if I might meet God here. Though I don’t see Him, I feel the warmth of his arm across my back. I feel his strength within my being. I hear his message in my soul: “You shall survive. You will overcome enormous obstacles, and you will find your way. Have faith and be strong.”
I feel like I’m looking at the world from the moon. Then it hits me that I am standing on top of Whiteface, the enormous mountain above our town. I watch as clouds float around beneath me, and I wander the ridge along the top of the mountain. I wish I could lock the sights I see, forever in my brain. If I can, I’ll come back here as often as possible. If not, at least I want to remember this one miraculous morning. I feel the chill of cold air, but it is no match for the warmth in my heart.
Then I notice the wind has picked up again, and clouds have begun to gather. I worry that the storms are returning to the top of the mountain, and I know that it is time to leave. I fear that I have stayed too long as it is. I find a possible path toward the east below and scamper from the top of the mountain. I see a faint trail. I can’t imagine what might have made such a trail, but it is time to move, not time to contemplate.
David
Fitz-Gerald writes fiction that is grounded in history and soars with the
spirits. Dave enjoys getting lost in the settings he imagines and spending time
with the characters he creates. Writing historical fiction is like making
paintings of the past. He loves to weave fact and fiction together, stirring in
action, adventure, romance, and a heavy dose of the supernatural with the hope
of transporting the reader to another time and place. He is an Adirondack
46-er, which means he has hiked all of the highest peaks in New York State, so
it should not be surprising when Dave attempts to glorify hikers as
swashbuckling superheroes in his writing.
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Thank you so much for hosting the blog tour for Waking Up Lost.
ReplyDeleteAll the best,
Mary Anne
The Coffee Pot Book Club
My pleasure.
ReplyDelete