PEACHY

The Pear tree never seemed to flourish, the dead tree standing rather outlandishly against the lush greenery that surrounded it. It was his wife’s idea to have one, she even planted it. His wife, Demeter had seemed to develop a green thumb while her husband resided upstairs in his study writing his book. It would be his second masterpiece! Well, that’s what I think anyway.

Wheeler stared blankly at the dead pear tree, his eyes searching it for some source of inspiration for his new novel, nothing. He dared not leave his house, nor did he dare turn on a radio or the television. It was just him and his typewriter. Wheeler was determined to shut out the outside world, as a {Brilliant} writer he wasn’t going to let it influence his headspace. But in saying that, maybe the madness got to him, and that’s how I happened…

Wheeler sat back in his chair, a burning cigarette hanging from his mouth as he slid the next piece of paper into view; he had spent the rest of the evening editing and sorting out raw chapters of his novel by candlelight. The cigarette smoke curled and twirled across the text, leaving its scent of tobacco as it danced across the pages in front of him. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he re-read what he had written in his head, his smile only becoming more visible when he read the name of his main female character; Ana.

Wheeler lifted his gaze ‘Perfect’ he thought to himself as he marvelled over the fictional masterpiece that now stood before him. As he continued to stare at her, he caught the strong scent of roses blended with peach.

Wheeler’s heart beat increased and he began to feel that all too familiar feeling that he always felt when he saw Ana. A wave of warmth washed over him, he couldn’t seem to take his eyes off her, not even for a moment. It was because in that moment nothing else mattered, the study he was sitting in had seemed to have disappeared. Ana had been so deep under his skin for the last few weeks that she had become a part of him. Her scent danced around his nostrils as she sensually moved around him, leaving a sillage of pure euphoria in her wake.

Wheeler continued to lean back into the leather chair, his smile becoming increasingly intoxicated; he could feel Ana’s hands upon his shoulders as she lightly dug her nails into his flesh. He felt as though he were happily dying by the hands of a fictional character that was as real as you and me.

He looked up at Ana, her long dark brunette hair tumbling down in loose curls around him; she was about to whisper something onto his lips when the study door suddenly burst open!

Ana had disappeared.

At the sight of his disgruntled wife standing in the threshold of his study, Wheeler quickly reverted back to an upright seated position, but in doing so caused him to disturb the pile of chapters that was his novel. The pile of papers now scattered everywhere.

Demeter’s eyes narrowed at her husband. It was as though she had caught him in the middle of something.

Well, she kind of did. Wheeler and I were in the middle of something. This also wasn’t the first time she caught him like this. Her nose twitched uncomfortably, was she able to pick up the notorious peachy-rose scent that perfumed her husband’s study?

‘It’s past midnight, are you coming to bed?’ she asked, her tone showing obvious signs of exasperation.

Once everything was back in a neat pile on Wheeler’s desk he followed his wife out of the study only to look back and see Ana leaning against the doorway staring at him, her fingers twirling around the ends of her long brunette curls.

‘What are you staring at, dear?’ Demeter sighed as she looked from her husband and then to the study where a supposed Ana was standing. Wheeler’s smile seemed to get wider. ‘HEY!’ Demeter exclaimed as she clicked her fingers in front of her husband’s face as though telling him to snap out of it. Demeter knew that her husband was quite the {brilliant} eccentric, creative type; however she lacked the understanding of his unconventional ways.

Or his brilliance as I like to say. That man shines like gun metal, I love him.

Two months have passed, Wheeler finished his novel. In the end he went with a new idea, a completely different direction. Of course I’m no longer in it – thanks to his wife.

Although I am nothing but a beautiful memory for him now, I’ll always be around. For instance, when Wheeler wanders over to the pear tree that has finally flourished, he’ll notice that the tree has indeed grown fruit. And when he goes to take a bite out of it he will be pleasantly surprised that it won’t be pear that he’s eating, but a peach instead.

I know for a fact that his wife won’t be happy; she on the other hand does not like peaches.