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    The Way Brilliant Souls Cry: A Novel
    The Way Brilliant Souls Cry: A Novel
    The Way Brilliant Souls Cry: A Novel
    Ebook55 pages56 minutes

    The Way Brilliant Souls Cry: A Novel

    By Colin Zwiebel

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    About this ebook

    The protagonist in The Way Brilliant Souls Cry is a great performer and artist who wants only to love-and to be loved in return. But his relationship with the mentally wrecked, bipolar Katrina threatens to destroy him.

    Following one of his shows, the artist is approached by Katrina's father, Richard. The man makes a plea for the artist to visit Katrina in the hospital-claiming that he is the only one who can bring her out of her depression. The artist has always loved her with all his being and agrees to visit her.

    Shortly after, the two troubled souls become engaged and embark on a month long holiday in Europe. Upon their return, he throws himself wholeheartedly into preparing another show. But shortly after the show opens, the couple's relationship starts to unravel. Katrina and the artist break up and reconcile many times until their final ending is tragically realized.

    This is a story about the human need for love as told from the perspective of the artist's friend Luna. The Way Brilliant Souls Cry is the depiction of madness-turned-genius and back again; it examines the gifts that our lives give to other people and illustrates how pain isn't always easy to recognize.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisheriUniverse
    Release dateMar 12, 2006
    ISBN9780595826599
    The Way Brilliant Souls Cry: A Novel
    Author

    Colin Zwiebel

    After his self-admission and release from a mental hospital, Colin Zwiebel decided to direct his energies toward healing himself by writing. Haunted and tormented by the traumas of his past, he now transforms them into allegorical fiction.

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      Book preview

      The Way Brilliant Souls Cry - Colin Zwiebel

      Author’s Note

      What follows is the most stunningly accurate self-portrait I have ever conceived.

      The Way Brilliant Souls Cry

      —Yes, I do believe that to be true—that very possibly no one knew him as well as I did, or at least no one understood him as sincerely as I did.

      —Of course I wonder why he did it, and without so much as a cry for help or even noticeable changes in behavior to give us some clue, some hint at his inner state, his torment. No, that would be asking too much of him: to be honest with us. You see, he was a great performer not only onstage but offstage as well. As loud and outgoing as he was, he was more a shy and quiet person. No matter how well I knew him, I still will sit here, same as you, and ask why. Ah, but now I’m behaving much as he did. I am acting, pretending that I don’t know anything when, in reality, I know all. Between us, there was always what I can call an enduring trust, a bond that led to openness. It existed in verbal and nonverbal forms alike. However, its forms are of no consequence; all that matters now is that…is that it existed at all. And let me tell you, with all the confidence I have, that it did. It did indeed exist. The closeness that I shared with that man was a great gift, perhaps one of the greatest of my life. I sit here and let my memories wash over me, and I can remember everything from the scent of his cologne to the way he would write feverishly on cocktail napkins for hours. What a genius he was, to the detriment of any company we were out with for the night. But to stop him would have been a crime against brilliance, against creativity and passion. I can even remember the slight, almost indistinguishable, slip in the tone of his voice when he lapsed into sarcasm. Perhaps I am confusing you, but to understand why he left us with so much genius yet unrealized, you need to first understand why he lived—or why he lived the way he did. You need to also understand who he was.

      —My oh my, yes, who was he? What a rich and flavorful question. I find it absolutely seductive, a question that surrounds itself with protective smoke rings, shadows, and loud flashes all meant to obscure the senses from picking out traces of the real…well, traces of the man he was. He was the most marvelous illusionist. Some might have called it a con job, but we mustn’t hate the chameleon for changing color; it’s nature’s way. You see, he could not show us his real self, for that would have rendered him completely ineffective in all of his teachings. But, perhaps most of all, it can be said that if we all had known who he was—I mean, if we really had known—it would have created in our hearts, in our all-too-compassionate hearts, sorrow toward him that would only have reminded him who he was. Who he was for real. And if that had been allowed to happen, our very human souls that loved him so dearly would have screamed in anguish at the pain our knowledge had caused him.

      So you must know him—know him like you know yourself. I am, however, sure that most of you don’t know yourselves at all. This is a great shame, because perhaps you too are filled with the same rich substance that he was. That may be the case. It’s altogether more likely that, in fact, you are not, and that this you already know. This may scare you and prohibit you from searching deeper. Whatever your case or your reason why, I am completely indifferent to it. I just simply couldn’t let it pass that I too already know you for who you really are: a coward. Be that as it may, I will continue on, secure in the conclusion that I am better than you in every way. It seems to me that, in our brief conversation so far, I have lied to you once already and told you what years of therapy would have revealed to you in due time.

      —No, no, you mustn’t thank me. I mean only to expand your awareness of what is true. So now, my dear friends, you know, and you know without question, to look upon me with the greatest of reverence and respect.

      —Thank you, yes, that is true. I would be honest almost to a fault if I weren’t also a liar. And may I extend to you the compliment that your

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