The Peaches that Fell

Chapter 4

The Story The Authors

The next day Elizabeth took off at dawn and headed south. The trip was long but uneventful. With no pressing problems Elizabeth was left with her thoughts. About halfway to her destination she began to have doubts about her plan. As she flew closer to her destination, Elizabeth was positive she had made a huge mistake. Pick up stranded sailors? What had she been thinking? Had she been drunk when she came up with this lame idea? Was she really this stupid? Looking back on it now she thought that it could only be the plot of a bad novelist. I slunk down lower in the back seat of the Cessna. It would not do for her to notice me, the author of her story. What was going on? I had written and observed many ppls stories in the past, but never had one of my own characters noticed or suspected that I was the controller of their destiny. I distracted Elizabeth by sending a pigeon, a seagull and a bouquet of flowers at the windshield of the plane. While she attempted to deal with these problems I thought of how I had come to be the mover and shaker (the Oz behind the curtian) of so many people. I remembered how it all began, that cold day in March of 1968. dean

Some would have you believe that it all ended in March of 1968 but that partof my existance is only a hazy dream that I won't dwell on. Suffice it to say that I was 14 and attending school in Hanoi. We were reading the writings of Uncle Ho, when the alarm sounded and the lights went off. The next thing I remember was the bloody body of my teacher on the classroom floor and the rumbling of cinderblocks collapsing. I had a most excrucaiting headache and then I passed out. Some would say I had died. kittybell

Eric M.

But I didn't. By continuing to live, you annoy the hell out of life. Instead of it annoying the hell out of you. And making you do stupid things like fall in love or drop out of school. Or read Ayn Rand. Or listen to the Spice Girls. Or babble all day long. Like you were hallucinating. Or about to die. Or dead actually. Dead bloody dead. But death is not in my naycha, dahling. Maybe in a coupla years, when I'm rich, filthy rich, drowning in oodles of money. Maybe never. Then I woke up to a bright light, and someone was tapping my shoulder. "Hey, are you alright?" the voice asked. I tried to talk but somehow nothing came out. My throat felt dry and gritty. I only nodded and passed out again. Eric M.

The dream began again. No control. Like suddenly waking up on a roller coaster, I could do nothing but hold on and pray. Terrors beyond the imagination of any mere mortal swirled about the periphery of my field of vision, with utter darkness ahead, wherever I looked. Threats, screams, and a low murmuring chant something like the sound of swarming bees assaulted my ears. In the pit of my stomach, it felt like I was about to vomit, but I couldn't achieve even that momentary release. slyde phaeder

A frigid breeze brought me release for the terrible inferno raging in my mind. I weakly opened my eyes, barely noticing the dark figure in the corner of the room. All of a sudden, the person moved towards my bed. "Go to sleep," the shadow hissed, "for you shall need your strength. Tomorrow is a long day." Without another word, he seemed to float out of the room. I shook my head to clear my thoughts. Was the creature only part of the terrible nightmares? The rational part of me agreeded whole heartedly on that, but deep down inside, I knew what I had just witnessed was not a dream. none

The next evening I was crying not for for any reason,just because I felt like it. Then the shadow came back and in a whisper he said,"every thing will be alright,there's nothing to worry about." That's when I realized he was my best friend,who died in a horrible tragedy.Which was all my fault.He told me not to play with matches,but did I listen,the one time I should have. I think he understood.Now he's my gaurdian angle. Bethany

Let me make it clear, a gaurdian angle is not the same as a guardian angel. It is really the antithesis. A gaurdian angle leads one into trouble and instead of giving guidance leads one into the depths of indecision. For years I dwelt under his control in a self-pitying bleakness, until I got so low it seemed like up to me. The only way to survive was to start caring for others and that led me on a spiritual quest. Eventually I became a true guardian angel which is how I ended up in the backseat of Elizabeth's Cessna. That old ugly penchant for indecision still rears its head occasionaly and that explains why I threw the pigeon, the seagull and the bouquet of flowers at the windshield of the plane. Wouldn't one have sufficed? kittybell

The Story	The Authors
The next day Elizabeth took off at dawn and headed south. The trip was long but uneventful. With no pressing problems Elizabeth was left with her thoughts. About halfway to her destination she began to have doubts about her plan. As she flew closer to her destination, Elizabeth was positive she had made a huge mistake. Pick up stranded sailors? What had she been thinking? Had she been drunk when she came up with this lame idea? Was she really this stupid? Looking back on it now she thought that it could only be the plot of a bad novelist. I slunk down lower in the back seat of the Cessna. It would not do for her to notice me, the author of her story. What was going on? I had written and observed many ppls stories in the past, but never had one of my own characters noticed or suspected that I was the controller of their destiny. I distracted Elizabeth by sending a pigeon, a seagull and a bouquet of flowers at the windshield of the plane. While she attempted to deal with these problems I thought of how I had come to be the mover and shaker (the Oz behind the curtian) of so many people. I remembered how it all began, that cold day in March of 1968.	dean
Some would have you believe that it all ended in March of 1968 but that partof my existance is only a hazy dream that I won't dwell on. Suffice it to say that I was 14 and attending school in Hanoi. We were reading the writings of Uncle Ho, when the alarm sounded and the lights went off. The next thing I remember was the bloody body of my teacher on the classroom floor and the rumbling of cinderblocks collapsing. I had a most excrucaiting headache and then I passed out. Some would say I had died.	kittybell
	Eric M.
But I didn't. By continuing to live, you annoy the hell out of life. Instead of it annoying the hell out of you. And making you do stupid things like fall in love or drop out of school. Or read Ayn Rand. Or listen to the Spice Girls. Or babble all day long. Like you were hallucinating. Or about to die. Or dead actually. Dead bloody dead. But death is not in my naycha, dahling. Maybe in a coupla years, when I'm rich, filthy rich, drowning in oodles of money. Maybe never. Then I woke up to a bright light, and someone was tapping my shoulder. "Hey, are you alright?" the voice asked. I tried to talk but somehow nothing came out. My throat felt dry and gritty. I only nodded and passed out again.	Eric M.
The dream began again. No control. Like suddenly waking up on a roller coaster, I could do nothing but hold on and pray. Terrors beyond the imagination of any mere mortal swirled about the periphery of my field of vision, with utter darkness ahead, wherever I looked. Threats, screams, and a low murmuring chant something like the sound of swarming bees assaulted my ears. In the pit of my stomach, it felt like I was about to vomit, but I couldn't achieve even that momentary release.	slyde phaeder
A frigid breeze brought me release for the terrible inferno raging in my mind. I weakly opened my eyes, barely noticing the dark figure in the corner of the room. All of a sudden, the person moved towards my bed. "Go to sleep," the shadow hissed, "for you shall need your strength. Tomorrow is a long day." Without another word, he seemed to float out of the room. I shook my head to clear my thoughts. Was the creature only part of the terrible nightmares? The rational part of me agreeded whole heartedly on that, but deep down inside, I knew what I had just witnessed was not a dream.	none
The next evening I was crying not for for any reason,just because I felt like it. Then the shadow came back and in a whisper he said,"every thing will be alright,there's nothing to worry about." That's when I realized he was my best friend,who died in a horrible tragedy.Which was all my fault.He told me not to play with matches,but did I listen,the one time I should have. I think he understood.Now he's my gaurdian angle.	Bethany
Let me make it clear, a gaurdian angle is not the same as a guardian angel. It is really the antithesis. A gaurdian angle leads one into trouble and instead of giving guidance leads one into the depths of indecision. For years I dwelt under his control in a self-pitying bleakness, until I got so low it seemed like up to me. The only way to survive was to start caring for others and that led me on a spiritual quest. Eventually I became a true guardian angel which is how I ended up in the backseat of Elizabeth's Cessna. That old ugly penchant for indecision still rears its head occasionaly and that explains why I threw the pigeon, the seagull and the bouquet of flowers at the windshield of the plane. Wouldn't one have sufficed?	kittybell

Library | Contents | Next Page