The Traveler's Wake
by J.P. Moynahan
Published by Curiosity Quills Press
Genre: Literary Fiction/Crime Thriller
About The Traveler’s Wake:Wesley Rourke is a mouthy, Irish-lucky millionaire, trotting the globe in search of the perfect place to kill his most hated enemy, himself. Blowing his money on charity, and booze as he zooms from city to city, he lays his course towards Lima, Peru.
Once he arrives, he sets about his grisly task only to be inconvenienced by the lure of a pretty young tourist, the daughter of a prominent British lawmaker.
A few days after their first date, he awakens in a hospital to find her missing and he himself embroiled in a media blitz and massive manhunt. With time running out, and wracked with horrifying night-terrors, Wesley is forced to face his past cowardice and wade into the bowels of a pitiless underworld in search of his one ray of hope.
The city of Lima awaits him.
She was far prettier than I had expected, beautiful even, to most anyone’s standard. Her chestnut tinted hair fell in soft wavy lengths just past her shoulders. Her smooth, blemish-free skin was light and fair, with a hint of cream, her version of a tan, I would imagine.
Slender with firm curves, she moved with the grace of a ballet dancer. Her brilliant and large green eyes shone like two emeralds set into a statue of a Greek goddess. Her lovely lips; youthfully voluptuous, turned up slightly at the ends in a seemingly constant expression of mirth.
My God in heaven, I thought, the mighty Lord himself has proven his creative prowess today. God, please, don’t let me screw up.
“Thank you, kind sir. That was rather awful I’m afraid” I heard her say with a southern English countryside accent; her R’s and A’s softened and her O’s deepened, almost a soft Welsh, it seemed. She laid her handbag down and slid the backpack into a nearby chair.
Then, with a sigh, she settled onto her seat lightly, almost like a floating feather on a calming breeze. I started the conversation, trying to impress this lovely creature: “Let me guess, you’re from southern England, near Wales. Am I right?”
A surprised look came into her face. “Why, yes, very much so! How could you tell?”
“I’ve traveled a good bit these past few years, seen and met a lot of folks. You get an ear for this kinda thing after a while.” I waved my hand nonchalantly. “I was also in Wales for a month or so last year. My name is Wes, Wesley Rourke.” I offered my hand across the table.
With a firm shake, she replied, “I’m Emlyn Kendrick.”
Her hand was strong for a woman’s hand, but her skin was soft.
“And what, on this fine day, are you doing here in Lima, Peru, Miss Kendrick?”
“Oh, Emlyn is fine. I don’t like my proper name, makes me feel so old.”
“Old?” I replied with a chuckle. “You can’t be more than twenty!”
“Twenty-five, actually. Nearly twenty-six if you want the technical logistics.” She laughed at her own joke. This was a good sign; people who laughed at their own jokes were usually humble enough to laugh at themselves and not take life so damned seriously.
“Oh, but your question, yes… well, I’m here to visit a dear friend. We were childhood playmates, and she moved here with her husband, who’s from a village in the Andes. I haven’t seen her in quite a long time, it’ll be so nice to see her again.” Her eyes were steady, never looking down or even around at all the wonderfully foreign sights about her. A solid, honest, piercing gaze.
“And how about you, Mr. Rourke?” she asked with an amused tilt to her head. “What is it that brings you here?”
“Me? Oh, well, I travel. That’s what brings me here.” I loved saying this and just sitting back and letting the person ponder the meaning.
“You travel? For work?”
“No, I just travel to travel. In fact, I will have been on the road continuously for nearly a year in a few days.”
“Indeed? For what reason? Personal enlightenment?” she joked.
“Hah! Yeah, that. And I just want to see the world before I die.”
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I’m a wilderness guide and mountaineer, musician and poet. I’ve climbed all over North and South America, and played my music throughout. From mission’s work in Mexico, to clinking beers with toothless Canadians, and onto climbing an Andean glacier, I enjoy whatever comes my way.
I’m a mouthy sort with a quick tongue and an even quicker grin. Most folks hate me for the first seven minutes, then fall right in love with my winning personality and straight-toothed smile.
Though I harbor a strong sense of independence, I believe in the strength of a supportive community and tight knit family. I enjoy working with youth and young adults and showing them that staying out of jail isn’t so hard and can even be fun. But I’m not a goody-two-shoes, my head isn’t anywhere near my ass, much less in it.
Find J.P. Moynahan Online:
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What did Sister Sinister think?
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I give it 5 Stars!
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I received "The Traveler's Wake" from Curiosity Quills Press in exchange for my honest review and my first thought I want to share with you is... WOW. Wowee, even. This book is unlike anything I have read before and it weirded me out in the beginning because I wasn't sure that I was going to enjoy where I assumed it was headed. Gladly, I can say I was wrong!
Wesley Rourke is trying to commit suicide. He believes that by traveling around the world, he will find the perfect place to commit the act all the way. Because he's tried. Many times, in many places, but he never can quite follow through. Determined, he thinks he just might do it this time, in Peru. The only problem, the only thing that might make it complicated, is Emlyn and her sweet smile. And perhaps, something else...
THE TRAVELER'S WAKE is a wonderful, emotional, entertaining read with a message of hope and the love of others, that I would suggest to absolutely anyone.