THE THIRD INSTANCE

A boy sits alone in a crowded yet deserted attic and questions, 'why?'

He sits perched on an old coffee-coloured chest among the relics of his ancestors and wonders whether his parents might discover him too as another relic of the past among this sepulchre of memories.

The dusty, worn family artefacts around him – clothing, jewellery, paintings, musical instruments; a pirate's treasure trove – do little to inspire his thoughts in anything other than a necrophilic domain, as he imagines his lifeless visage staring up blindly from different positions among them.

He imagines the various dead expressions upon his face, and the expressions of shock and horror upon the faces of his parents when they discover him.

Moving off the box, he wanders around the attic, picking his way through the cluttered arrangement, running his finger along the various surfaces and looking indifferently at the trails he forms.

All he really sees, though, is that he is only delaying the inevitable by even trying to think through and justify the decision.

The decision to make it all end...

With a sigh that is tired of life, he slouches into an armchair, its dusty upholstery threadbare. Shifting his gaze from the armchair to a clock half obscured on the wall, a clock whose batteries have long since expired, he confirms his belief that everything inevitably dies and decays back into nothing.

'Ashes to ashes, dust to dust'.

After pausing to scratch his arm and molest a long-picked scab on his elbow, he shuts his eyes and pushes his back into the soft, malleable recesses of the old chair. There is a vain, subconscious hope that something miraculous will happen to save him from doom or re-instil him with an energy and a desire for life.

He tries to cancel out, for even just a short time, his morbid thoughts and tries to contact the spirit world he has so often heard about, but seldom believed and never experienced.

If there is anything more to this existence, to existence itself, any grace, any beauty, any compassion, any meaning, he thinks, that something must happen now. Else he will take his life and have the pain, misery and emptiness over and done with. A world without meaning, true meaning; not that which comes about through mathematical explanations and laws of a science that he never understood, or the instructions of how to live one's life of a religion to which he could never relate; he can no longer bear.

And yet just when it seems he needs it most, nothing happens. The uncaring world fails to rescue him in his hour of need.

Tears roll down his face, wet lines down his dirty cheeks, like the lines he had drawn on the furniture in the dust. Sobbing and whimpering – unloved. No one is here to bear witness to his torment, he has no friends, none that are real friends, and his parents don't understand him, they don't even try. The only thing to which he could relate, wasn't even human, his dog Wolfie, and it had been hit and killed by a car a week ago. The malice and mercilessness of the world seems endless. No one cares. No one cares if a little boy loses his way and departs from the world. Who, apart from his parents, would notice? He knows they'd suffer, but their grief would only be because he was a child of theirs, not necessarily because of who that child is or was. What difference would there be to the world without him in it? None. None whatsoever. It is a soulless, indifferent world in which he has no place, no importance, save that which springs from being a child of his parents and nothing that is a result of who he is. What little importance he has was entirely predetermined, like another scientific law that defines the mechanical, meaningless universe.

It is too much, he has to end it now. He can't stand the thought of another meaningless day, another meaningless experience, another meaningless lesson that is supposed to be for his own good, that is supposed to be for his 'education' so that he can join a meaningless world where he is just another meaningless identity among a meaningless mass all deluding themselves that there really is meaning in a meaningless world.

His eyes blur with tears, he begins to search for his father's pistol that he has stolen and loaded and brought up here. He had put it down during this final departing expedition around what will become his tomb, in the hope of finding something, something which held meaning, a purpose to his life, to life itself.

As his efforts to find the gun become more and more frantic, a vain thought emerges from his subconscious that some greater force from above has finally intervened to save him by removing the gun that will end his life.

But this thought, barely having had life, is aborted as the next moment his fingers clasp around the familiar barrel of the pistol where it had slid down between the coffee-coloured chest and the old faded paintings.

Now he cradles the gun in his young hands, trying to feel its cold power and energy, trying to imagine it sucking out what little energy he has left to give and glowing with a supernatural energy in his absence, maybe smirking and chuckling with evil, as it lies in a widening pool of his own blood. The light glistening off its silvery, polished surface is distorted into great streaks by his teary vision.

He snuffles and wipes at the streaming tears, before falling into the armchair again and pointing the barrel at his forehead.

He feels the small cold circle at the middle of his brow and closes his fingers tightly around the grip, resting his thumb over the trigger itself. As he closes his eyes he notices how parched his throat has become. Licking his lips he tastes the salt that has accumulated there and notices with surprise that it tastes sweet, like a new and bizarre sugar.

He begins to notice how warm it is in the attic and how full the air is of different scents; not just the musty smell of old age and choking dust, but the strange mellow sourness of the mould that has grown in patches on the armchair and the peculiar complexity within the aroma of matured wood, cedar he thinks, that wafts with gentle eddies of air into his nostrils. Even the dust and decay-ridden carpet the chair rests upon seems to have a great depth in the scent of its ancient fibres, underlying all the superficial, distasteful odours.

Now he begins to listen to the distant sounds of birds singing and cars rolling past outside. If he concentrates hard enough, he can even hear the motion of people on the footpath and decipher the cackle and murmur of voices. He can feel the soft touch of the wind caressing the fine hairs of his ears, and only now is aware of the vague, prickly sensations that the armchair is inducing over parts of his arms and down the back of his calves.

And beneath it all he begins to get the impression that somewhere far away there is music playing, its notes and rhythms barely perceptible and perhaps only existing in the imaginary construction of his own mind; a subconscious vibration that is in tune with a subconscious part of himself.

He opens his eyes again, perhaps for the first time ever and sees the ancient, intricate and venerable relics before him in a way that he has never before experienced. He sees them not in light of their aged, decayed or discoloured state, but in their completeness, as unified states of being of which he has never been aware. The paintings begin to conjure up images of other worlds and vivid experiences, speaking of great beauty that exists not just in the mind of the creator, but accessible to any with their own minds to experience for themselves. He perceives a great wisdom in the old hand-crafted furniture encircling him, as if portions of the carpenters' souls and understanding were infused with their work, preserved in time, to be passed onto successive generations. Even the mouldy apparel and the handfuls of dulled, beaded necklaces strewn about, resonate with the magical memories of other times, places and realities that he has yet to experience.

The fingers that cradle the pistol, and the cranium that cradles his consciousness, both seem to quiver and tremble, as he is filled with a sense of wonder at the complexity of the world around him. There is the feeling that somewhere beneath the cryptic mystery of it all exists meaning that he has overlooked, taken for granted, or even forgotten.

Danny might live again.

***

2003 edition reviews

"Evermore is an ongoing voyage into the seeking of self, a compelling chronicle read if you too are on the same journey, and who isn't? ...It is one of the finest books I have read. I can thoroughly recommend it."

Margaret Clark, award-winning author

"It's rare that a book can grab me like that, just reach inside me and grab me... on another level, so indescribable. It takes me to another place, then rips me back and I long for more... reality? Or non-reality? Where is the distinction? I can find none, and for once, perhaps the first time ever, I'm not terrified, for the author has seen inside me - and he understands... Fantastic Brewin! Talk about a league of your own!"

Anita Bell, bestselling author

"A postmodern mix of twenty-something philosophical angst and humour that challenges the reader to think beyond the ordinary."

Euan Mitchell, bestselling author

"Fans of 'Big Brother' and 'The Matrix' will be mesmerised by the intricate web of layers and levels and intimate details that make up Evermore. This is 'reality reading' at its most intriguing."

Julie Capaldo, award-winning author

"Ohhh! Just wonderful Brewin'! I don’t think any book will seem the same somehow having read through yours, I should think everything is fairly sort-of dull and mundane, one page follows the other, but with this you never know where you’re going to find yourself do you?"

Dianna Whaley, radio presenter

2001 edition reviews

"That it was written over six years ago, and yet is still as relevant today, shows the book isn't dated ... It's got something for everyone."

"Hopefully this will be worth something one day Brewin. If not, I expect a refund!"

"Man, I reckon this book makes you smarter!"

"I know I'm your mate and all so I'm biased; but this book is bloody good. It changes so much you never get bored of it!"

"Great Book."

"It was kinda weird but overall, I was surprised with how well you've written it and stuff. Talent mate - you've got it."

"Sorry, but the book is too intense and disturbing for me."

"It's a great read and gets you thinking. Lives up to the title 'Evermore.......' ... You have a best seller on your hands here."

"Awesome!"

"I'm amazed at how professionally you seem to have done everything."

"Really trippy; I've never read anything else like it."

"This book is scary; it knows what I am thinking ... It has changed my life."

"Is writing novels your occupation? If not, it should be, cos I reckon you've got 'massive talent' in this field for sure!, and the best thing is; that you've done something about it! ... Your book has caught me, which is something, because I've never been one to read books ... It's one of those books where you can read it over again to discover more than you did the first time ... I love it!"

"Thank you for writing this... it's brilliant!"

"This BOOK ROCKS!!!"

"Were you on drugs when you wrote this or what?"

"Can't wait for the sequel."

"Something for the times."

"You're right when you said 'this book is truly unlike any other' "

"The cover design and general appearance of the book look very professional ... Evermore itself, although I have only taken in (very large) chunks of it seems to me still a work in progress and I think you may have been premature in going to print at this stage ... I was very impressed with your high level of energy but feel it does need harnessing ... Your art is your vitality, energy and your burning passion for writing. Your art is your willingness to take chances. No one can give you art - it is a divine gift. You have the art. Art can't be taught, in my opinion."

"The cover pic is spectacular."

"You describe things exactly how they are."

"Too amazing to put down!"

"What do you reckon would happen if you went back in time to 2000 BC or something, and replaced the Bible with a copy of Evermore?"

"I've been reading more of ya book, and it's getting more intriguing! I'm VERY impressed!"

"Damnably disjointed."

"You sure are prolific. That's greatly to be admired. You're way ahead of most people!"

"Your book could be considered as a first draft - potential there, but needs a bit of re-drafting ... This work belongs to a genre I'm not very familiar with, and which doesn't particularly pique my curiosity ... The book appears to be concerned with finding meaning, a kind of deeper, more profound reality - and an answer to the question which humanity, in its entirety, hasn't been able to answer until now. Every religion and philosopher battles with this question - why? What's the point of life etc... Now, according to my friend, a preoccupation with the profound is a common theme amongst young writers. I learned that trying to be profound is considered to be one of the 'pitfalls' of beginning a writing career ... The book is certainly FULL of ideas - and you could go far by exploring them, rather than briefly going into them and then suddenly moving onto another ... I think you should marry 'Lana' "

"This is the first book I've ever finished in my life."

"Congratulations on your first published book- it does look really really good ... I suppose I've got two main criticisms of the book. The first is that I think it's a bit disjointed, and does not flow very well for the reader from chapter to chapter making it a bit difficult to read at times. The second is that I think the book, especially by the fifth part becomes far too egocentric and loses all sense of a story, and I think that too is hard going for a reader. I still think you are a gifted writer but I think you could be capable of much better ... The writing in Evermore is of a really high standard I think. I have a friend who has just published a novel about a guy who spends a day on the London Underground, and it's doing really well. The thing is that the writing in that novel is really really bad in comparison to your writing (which says something about the value of connections in the publishing world -of which this guy has a lot). So I guess in summary, I still think you have loads of talent, but I reckon Evermore is a difficult book to read, and probably will be a difficult book to sell because it does seem to forget about the need for the reader to follow your thought patterns, and also at times, to be engaged and entertained ... You tend to veer between being overly and dis-proportionally invulnerable and egotistical., to being a screwed up, hallucinating wreck, and there is not too much reflection about why those extremes exist in your personality - as it was then anyway, or any reflection about those mid times when you had a sense of vulnerability but still functioned reasonably normally ... you certainly were more sane in real life than you were in Evermore ... also I think you capture dialogue really well (again better than some other books I've read) and definitely have a ear for the way people talk and individual speech patterns. I reckon, all the characters (except yours perhaps for reasons I have already tried to explain) are really quite real ... I was wondering if the comments made by Rashid (?) were actually quite prophetic."

"I think it's fantastic and I've recommended it to all my friends ... It freaked me out a bit at times, but in a way that I liked ... It's inspiring that you expose yourself so much in your own book without fear of ridicule ... It's helped me to realise that life is what you make it and to not take it all so seriously."

"I think I'll like your other book a lot more when it's finished."

"I thought it was just a fantasy book; it's actually got a lot more wide appeal. You should change the cover."

"I'll get around to reading it one day mate; honest!"

"You sold more launch copies than I did with my first two books combined ... The fact that you have established your own track record will count very favourably towards attracting a publisher because it makes you stand out from the thousands of unpublished authors' manuscripts they see each year."

"You have an amazing mind."

"This book is the truth in all its beauty ... You've got the gift."

"I couldn't get into it; it was too disjointed. I honestly thought you were bi-polar."

"Brewin I know you appreciate honesty, so I'll be honest and say that I've read the chapter I'm in and don't intend to read any more. I look forward to your horror/fantasy book though."

"So when do we get another book launch?"

"I can't explain it, but somehow it all makes sense. I've never read anything like this before, and I've read a lot of books."

"It's helped me to realise that there are others out there that have thought these thoughts and felt these feelings, and that I'm not alone. It may have been therapy for you, but it was for me also."

"It is quite simply, the most amazing book I've ever read; I think everyone should read it."

"Who the fuck is this Brewin' guy?"

"...I look about the world in a slightly different view - been reading your book. Started just recently - so sorry, it took me awhile...from reading the introduction at the back and flipping through a few pages, I thought it would be hard to follow, difficult for me to understand and interpret what the story (stories) means :( Some stories I've read, I come out feeling physically sick and my mind feels bruised...but hey, I like it heaps!! I find it gives my mind a lil bit of a workout (and that's a good thing!) it's interesting and I love how it expands and shifts to other levels of reality, ideas etc.... more complicated than the matrix, but I think it's "cool!" :) It's got me enthralled, So deep and insightful.. :) Like a diary about your experiences, we delve inside your mind - the realities and fantasies, what is fact, fiction etc... very well done I thought.."

"It's nothing like what I've read before (obviously..) It does expand the limitations of your day-to-day thinking and takes a clear view at what reality really is....(bleak and depressing..) It has changed the way I view things and what a crude human race we are...(no true right or wrong..) I must be truthful and say that like the description of evermore, twists and turns - so do the words and sentences (I'm no expert on writing) the lines and the message can get muddled. I have scanned through a few sentences and paragraphs - but it's a great journey....an original idea (or maybe not..) It teaches me that nothing is what it seems and the great capacity of open-minded thinking you have.... It's hard for me to convey every aspect of what I think..but I think it's brilliant, maybe not ready of the people of today - but I think new ideas need to be almost shoved down some throats first and then they think WOW! this is new! lets embrace it!! People's attitudes are almost like sheep sometimes - and you can try fight it..but it takes the strong to break out from the mold and stand apart - either to be praised to ridiculed...."

"I haven't yet read Evermore, but I have heard so much about it, some good, some bad. But basically I'm debating reading it for many of reasons, all which sound just as pathetic and stupid as the other, but all, to me, are decent reasons. Basically I'm looking for your advice. Is your book worth reading? Is it something which we should all read? Is it worth all following consequences? ... What have I heard about it? One of my friends read it and said it was pretty trippy and said I had to read it. But then one of my other friends (sorry the whole 'my friends told me' thing sounds really dodgy I know!) when she read it she actually had alot of trouble with it, after reading it she basically went into convulsions and was very sick for a few days. She puts it down to things which were going on in her life at the time, but still recommends me not to read it. But I'm sure you'll be receiving an e-mail from her soon, explaining all, I could go into it more but it's not my place really, sorry. So basically after hearing that, sadly I wanted to read it even more! But I thought I'd ask you first, see what you thought."

"It is quite intriguing, especially with the foreword by Lana and everything... Maybe it is me knowing you and physics, but there are two passages that were much more detailed than everything else so far: The never-ending circles on napkins and the physics lesson (where the student agrees to listen cos he gets sex for it, which was a quite cool approach). They go into to much detail, losing momentum of the rest of the passages (where you really asked yourself "whats next???". But also, I have only read part I and one or two of the next chapters."

"I finished your book about a week ago...my rating 8/10!!! I think it's a great book, but I guess the appeal is more suited to a certain type of person - it challenges and expands your mind and makes you think outside the square...more individual thinking - that's what we need! someone to burst our bubble"

"hi andrew, thought i'd tell you that the strike up a conversation day zine (i think that's what it was called) has been all over melbourne...i don't just mean at uni either. I've seen it everywhere. seen my friends reading it. And it has Evermore in it."

"So about your BOOK! I was reading opinions on your website, it's amazing... you've developed a totally new 'genre'! when my friends ask me what your book is about, I reply 'lot's of stuff, it's scientifical/fiction/non-fiction/surreal/autobiography/fantasy like stuff'... haha and they look at me with a strange face! haha! i told them when it comes out! THEY GOTTA BUY IT!!!!"

"Showed your book to my husband and he's into it! Keep writing!!!!!!! :)"

"Im spewing about my lost copy of the book, signed and everything, but i guess its probably doing its rounds of gippsland by now! ...Cant wait to read the new book! ... Hope to start to see it in stores soon!"

"Arrogant yet engaging, Irritating yet enlightening. Evermore is a metaphysical walk through an altered mind. Its a novel, its a philosophy, its a novel philosophy. Its one mans vision - or is it - arent we all one in the same - if its one mans vision isnt it all our vision. What is vision but perception times people equalling - Evermore. It is tongue in cheek with its finger on the frontal lobe. An attack on the psyche that taunts the soul. It is and always will be... You have a gift of that there is no doubt. Keep creating my friend. The world needs minds like yours."