The Peaches that Fell

The Peaches that Fell

Chapter 3

     The Story The Authors
"Russel? Russel, wake up." Russel heard the voice through his dreaming mind, through the nightmare. It was her voice. Elizabeth. She'd changed her mind after all, she didn't mean to kill the buck, and she understood why he'd had to shoot the tall one. What on earth was he talking about. His dream and reality were all mixing together. He needed to wake up. Sluggishly he sat up in bed. He opened his left eye a crack. So it was real. She was here. His angel. "Russel." she said sadly. "Oh Russel, I'm so sorry. I never meant for any of this to happen." She stopped there. Not able to speak anymore through her tears. Now he remebered. Not HIS angel anymore. No, now she was someone elses. Jon's. His bestfriend's. His angel wasn't his and his bestfriend was now an exbestfriend and he was here in the mental institution. Yes. He remembered everything now.How he wished he could just keep dreaming. But he couldn't. Because SHE was here. Angel. Even if she wasn't his. And she was crying. He opened his eyes the rest of the way and looked at her. She couldn't even look him in the eye. She just stood there staring at his hand that had unconciously reached out and covered hers. "Sorry." he said and jerked it back. "No. I'm sorry. Really. I never meant for any of this to happen. I really do care about you. I didn't know you'd take it so hard. I'm sorry...I'm so sorry..." she began sobbing again. Russel hated to see her cry, but as much as he hated to see her hurt, he couldn't bring himself to comfort her, his own pain was to strong, to much. The cold hard reality was tearing him apart, she had cheated on him. Natia
Russel wrestled with the wringled bedsheets. Angel flew into a rage at Russels rustling. none
Suddenly, Powdered Toast Man burst onto the scene. He proclaimed, "Angel, stop your bitching. Russel does what he does because that what he does, and that's what he's into, so let him do his thing... and eat more powdered toast." tiki-tiki the mighty frog
Getting up from the ground, he saw the pile of toast dust before him and tried to find the moisture enough in his hungover pallette to even countanance the eating of the only solid food he'd seen in days. How on earth did I get here after my aunt's tea party? What happened to my Tux? - he thought, looking at the colour of the rags he had on . They might have been black once,he supposed. No sign of powdered toast man, but he could have sworn that little cartoon characters flitting in colour around the otherwise dark room. The low roar of traffic was coming through the curtained window. The sound of night and city. He found his watch, glowing the time. Late. Found the door, the stairs and with the breeze moving through his clothes he flew off into the night. Mos
Leaving Angel behind for the stars His shrink layed back into his leather chair and there was a long pause while he cleaned his wirerimmed glasses, eyebrows raised over an expression he didn't want his client to see. So much damage.And now he'd lost his girlfriend to the inevitable competition. Jesus, the guy was in arrears anyway.Why is it that when a client has an emergency he's least likely to afford the help he needs. Hence the overtime and the deepening frowns on this brow as one tries again to puzzle out the knots in another's head. Ohshitohshit oh shitsoh. The smell of books, yea and that voice. And then it all just came back; Jon. The fucker. Bad timing too, true to form. Just trying to picture them.... He probably took her to Barnardo's too before they strolled off my horizon into his apartment for java and his latest smoochy CD. Not that he would have even needed it after the fine plonk mixed with those stories about backpacking around the Med told in his baritone. The story unfolded with the deliberate slowness of an accident, a crash and burn into a taboo reality,something that never should have been. Never. And here it was. Unquenchable inexorable and the loudest thing in his ears. The Shrinks hypnosis had been all the more effective fuelled by his sheer drive to escape the nothingness after the tone on her answerphone. none


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