Dan finally hit the bottom of the void and groaned as he opened his eyes to see where that damned alarm clock was. He had dreamt of unreachable peaches for the hundredth time; maybe it was a some sort of sign. He made a mental note to look up what it meant.

It didn’t matter, however, that he couldn’t pick peaches in his dream. He gloated at whatever power it was that denied him peaches in his dreams as he reached under his bed to the bag of peaches he had stashed. He could still remember the first time he had seen the dream and gone to the grocery store in the middle of the night; it had been closed, so he had to call what remained of his few friends (if they could be called friends, that is) to ask them if they had some peaches. None of them did, of course, but Dan knew they were lying. Who would be crazy enough not to have stored peaches for the winter?

He hadn’t completely awoken when his hand felt across the rough carpet floor to find his plastic bag, but couldn’t get enough of a grasp on it to pull it out from under his bed. His muscles strained as he tried fruitlessly to lengthen his arm only half of an inch to reach the bag. This was stupid. He knew he looked ridiculous wrapped up in his bed sheets, reaching for his bag of peaches like a mummy would reach after some unfortunate human that happened to awaken it. He finally, and inevitably, fell out of bed. He didn’t get hurt, of course, but the abruptness of his falling reminded him of his dream and somehow got him mad enough to get up and kick the wooden frame of his bed, which sent a jolt of sizzling pain up through his spine and into his brain that made him yell in profanity. He dropped down into pushup position to look under his bed, grabbed the bag of peaches, and got back up. He had somehow managed to preserve his form from his years of soccer practice. He thrust his hand into the bag and took out one of the ripe, round fruits.
He took a bite and an explosion of juice and flavor filled his mouth. The smell of it was altogether a different joy. It filled his lungs with almost the same euphoria he had experienced from the sweet stuff, only this was healthier (and sweeter) as he had finally been convinced. He was about to take another platable bite when he recalled something that had been funny, at least until now. What was worse than seeing a large worm in your apple? Seeing half of a large worm in your apple. He now knew what was worse than seeing a large ant over your peaches as he ran to the bathroom to spit a mixture of his bite of peach and an uninvited guest that had accidentally gotten into his mouth along with it. He rinsed his mouth with water about ten times before he was finally satisfied there weren’t any more pieces of the ant he had just devoured. He went back to his bedroom and looked into the bag to see all of his peaches invaded with ants. Hundreds of small, red, disgusting ants were digging into his peaches. He almost felt his own skin being pierced as he saw holes all over his peaches. He immediately threw the bag out. He knew those damned ants would have his peaches whether in trash or not, and would have sprayed them with some chemicals if he had any, but there was an urgent matter at hand. He needed a new bag of peaches. He got dressed in ripped blue jeans and a wrinkled black shirt he picked up from the floor, sprayed himself with Axe (which he thought smelled like peaches), because he was too much in a hurry to spare time for the luxury of a shower, and he left his house.

Dan stepped out of his apartment building and into the street where people who had taken a lunch break were now returning to business. He enjoyed the location of his apartment, on a busy street where there was traffic 24/7. The tunes of an unemployed guitarist, violinist, or some other instrumentalist would ring through the streets. ATM’s asking the same questions to different people, different cars with the same sound of their engines, different people talking of the same football game. To someone as observant as Dan, this situation was like that of a peach. The skin of a peach is different throughout. A bright patch of red here, pale orange there, a hint of pink spread throughout, big yellow patch... All of those colors on the skin of a peach were different, but once you look at the inside, they are all the same, except the small patches of rot here and there if you waited too much (how could you?) to eat the peach. Dan kept philosophizing as he made his way through the crowd of people, some debating how much “that old piece of wreck” should have cost, some gossiping about how “that jerk has a new girlfriend every week,” and even one person yelling on the phone, “You can’t do this to me! I told ya I ain’t got nuttin to do with it already, man!”

He came to an intersection and waited for the lights to turn green for the pedestrians. Why did it have to be green? Peach would’ve been a better color for the “go” sign. He looked around while waiting. There were fewer people on the street since he had left his apartment, but by no means were there only a few. Next to him, a young Asian girl, probably around her early twenties, was seated on her bicycle, wearing bright-red headphones. She reminded him of… He was quick to divert his attention. In front of him, he could see an old man, leaning over a stick, looking around. Was he 60? 70? Who could tell? Was he alone? Why was Dan concerned about the old man? Perhaps it was in human nature to have such inexplicable concerns; perhaps Dan, for an instant, went to the future, looking at himself who, now old with age, was leaning over a stick, as alone as he was now. He felt a strange sympathy for the man. He could perhaps strike up a conversation with him if there weren’t people between him and the old man. No, no he wouldn’t. He would simply have walked on the same way towards the same direction, pass the fragile old man as if he didn’t even exist.
The light finally turned green, either because a man’s desperate attempts to hit the button several dozen times had gained the sympathy of the traffic lights, or the set time for the lights that were initiated by the first person to hit that button had finally turned the lights from red to green. The red man jumped down and became green, set in motion by an invisible force, and walked in a dark void, until time came for it to jump back up and become red again, in the same darkness. After such thoughts, and probably because he hadn’t left his house in over a week, Dan almost missed a right turn, followed by a left turn, and stopped as he saw something that caught his attention.

“Psychic Voyage-Meaning of Dreams, a Trip to Your Future, the Story of Life Written in Your Palms”, the sign read, written in neon lights on a black background that allowed for the writings to be seen even in daylight. The sign overall showed hints of wear everywhere, with a missing letter in almost every word (Mening, Drems, Trp, Plms), where either the bulbs had burned out or were on the point of doing so. It wasn’t the neon sign that pulled his attention (it depressed him, in fact), but rather the way it reminded him of his mental note to look up the meaning of the word. His feet dragged his body towards the shop (through the people going in the opposite direction) as his mind screamed at him to turn around and not waste money on some scam. A moth is driven to a light bulb just as he was driven towards the Psychic Voyage.

He passed through an underlit, doorless corridor painted completely black, with small, irregular patches of white that seemed yellow because of the absence of light. He walked at a steady pace. The hall grew darker with each step he took, his footsteps echoing as he went on.
Soon, his mind started playing tricks, making the echoes out to be people following him, the sound of his breath becoming a monster on his neck, darkness in front of him hiding a bottomless pit waiting with the patience of a predator to swallow its helpless victim. Then, he hit a wall with his nose. He was shocked out of his nightmarish thoughts as he felt warm blood ooze down his nose. He looked around and realized he was now in complete darkness. He touched the smooth surface of the wall he had just hit face-first and turned right, feeling the wall with his left hand, walking at the same pace as he had been before. Suddenly, it occurred to him; why was he going right? He stopped and started going backwards, feeling the wall with his right hand, and it wasn’t long before he hit another wall in the same manner as before. The bridge of his nose (now sore from the first encounter with the wall) caused storms of lightning to break in his brain and tears to form in his unseeing eyes. He threw his arms out and started going left and hit another wall within two steps. What had happened to the way he had come? What was going on? The panic of a trapped prey filled his breast. He started running down the corridor, one arm stuck out and one hand feeling the wall on his right. He had to get out of this place. Was someone following him? Was that light in the distance? He ran towards it. He wasn’t feeling a wall or even trying not to hit something in front of him. He was sprinting towards the light, or at least what seemed like light. He ran, but he never got close. His feet left the solid ground. He was falling.

“Welcome!”
He opened his eyes to see a bright red ceiling. Where in the world was he? He was lying on a soft bed. He propped himself up to sit. The whole room, including the floor, was brightly colored red.
“We haven’t had a customer in a long, long time…” said a female voice.
Dan realized she was sitting right across from him. Had she been watching him for the whole time? He shivered at the thought, looking around himself fearfully. The room was a ten feet by ten feet place with a high ceiling.
“...but we knew you would come here.”
Then he looked at her. She was a thin, old lady, but he wasn’t sure he could call her a lady; she was more like a skeleton. Her eyes were almost completely white. She had used makeup to paint her eyelids black. She was wearing a dress that was the same tone of red as the rest of the room and the same pattern, too, a darker shade of red that ran horizontally across the red paint in a wave pattern, so that the design made her blend into the background. The dress covered her up to her ankles and her elbows and neck, so if one didn’t look carefully, she seemed nothing more than a set of feet, hands and a head, rather than a person. He wanted to scream but was too mesmerized to do so. “Wh-wh-where a-am I?” he managed to say (not ask, as that would imply that he had any control over his voice or speech).
“You’re currently taking a psychic voyage!” the set of body parts said. “You wanted to know what your dream meant, didn’t you?”
She had a mocking tone in her voice that enraged Dan. She seemed to hold back laughter throughout her sentence, then allowed it to burst out at the end. He began to sweat, and it took a deep effort to breathe. When he did, the hot air burned his lungs. He had to get out of here, and he had to do it quickly. He pulled himself together and decided to go along with what this thing (he couldn’t call her a person) was trying to do and get it over with as soon as possible.
“Yes; I-I need. to know. what it means,” he managed to stammer out.
“Oh, poor Dan wants to know what his dream means. How sad.” She laughed again. “I will tell you what it means.”
She suddenly changed her tone; she wasn’t mocking but now accusing him. Did she grow in size too? The whole room began to seem like it was melting together as Dan realized he was sinking, literally, into his bed. “It means you will never have what you want. You will NEVER find tranquility. YOU. WILL. NEVER. BE. HAPPY,” the “e” sound evolved into a scream.
The ceiling, now half liquefied, was dripping a type of blazing red substance. Her scream was making his ears bleed. He needed to get out of there or he knew he was going to die.
A white light came from the molten wall behind the woman/witch, and he sprinted towards it without a second thought. She had grown from a feeble-looking old woman to a monster twice his height, huge fangs growing out of its mouth, blood dripping from its empty eye-sockets, its hands turning into claws. She was still screaming. He pushed her aside with all his strength, yet barely managing to stagger her, gaining just enough room to run past her and towards the light. The floor was only half solid, slowing his sprint down so that he dragged his feet through the floor. The thing was now running for him with impossible speed. He was within a foot’s reach of the light when a drop from the ceiling hit his back. He was sure it had burned a hole through him, but adrenaline washed over the pain before he had time to fully register it. At this point, the floor had become completely liquefied. He was now sinking, his vain efforts to go towards the light, now inches away, failed.
Just when he was neck-deep in the red liquid, something reached out of the light and grabbed his arm. He was pulled out of the sticky substance with ease and into the light. The monster made an attempt to grab his foot, but it was too late; he was out.

Consciousness filled his mind as he stared at the Psychic Voyage sign. What had just happened? He felt as if he was about to throw up. He was standing in the middle of a sidewalk. People said things, but he didn’t hear them. The cars, people, machines, all the sounds were mixed in a frenzy. He couldn’t make out people’s faces, and they pushed him aside and out of their way. He slowly looked around. The sun was setting in the distance, and he recalled how he had wanted peaches at some point in the day. His clouded mind saw the goal and simply went after it without a second thought.
It was the stinking smell of rotten tomatoes that sank into his lungs as he quickly walked to grab a cart. He had to get his peaches and leave before he died of some disease that came from such an awful scent. Was there such a disease? It was hard to imagine not. He pushed an old, rusty cart through the aisle of stinky tomatoes and rotten lettuces towards the peaches. The humidity had started to form drops of sweat on his forehead. Why couldn’t they get air conditioning in here? God, a single day of profit from the mob of people that packed this small store should be enough to buy AC. He finally found his way to the peaches. Ah, how amazing they looked! He would have eaten one right off the shelf if there hadn’t been people around. Thirst crept up his throat and into his mouth. He couldn’t wait to take a huge bite on that juicy peach. He hastily grabbed a grocery bag and started pouring in peaches. Handfuls, basketfuls of peaches!
Dan could sense people staring at him over his absurd act, but he was grabbing his peaches and going home; he didn’t care if people stared. He realized he hadn’t needed the cart for only four full bags of peaches, so he left the cart by the shelf of peaches and started speed-walking to the cashier. For once, there was no line! He half-threw, half-gave the cashier the bags of peaches and even yelled at the boy not to be so clumsy as he dropped some peaches on the counter. Dan reached into his pocket for his wallet to pay the bill. Oh, God he was so thirsty. He opened his wallet. It was empty.
He left the store empty-handed and started walking home. The sun had set, the moon was out, but it was not long past evening. His mind was just starting to remember and realize what had happened to him. None of it made any sense. Who (or more correctly what) was that thing? And what was the thing it said? “You will never be happy.” The words echoed in his ears. Was that the meaning of unreachable peaches? Was it unreachable happiness? Then he remembered how his back had been burned, and how he had broken (was it broken?) his nose. He quickly and fearfully checked his body. He sighed with relief as he realized his nose was untouched, and so was his back. But if those accidents hadn’t been real, then what had happened? He had more than enough sleep, so what was it then? What about the white light that had rescued him? Nothing made sense. He felt too tired to think. He hadn’t been in vigorous activity, but his muscles were sore, too sore for just two blocks of walking, unless it had been… No, it couldn’t have been real. All the room melting like lava? A woman turning into a monster? He was not insane, none of it was real and he was getting a good night’s sleep. He reached a familiar intersection where he had seen the old man and the Asian girl. He took a right, then turned left. Where was he? Either someone had moved his apartment to another block or he had completely lost his sense of direction.
Come on! He protested. It was getting late and not many people were in the streets. He was feeling so tired he could have simply lain down on a bench and slept like a baby, but he felt as if he must go home. He turned around and saw the Psychic Voyage sign, blazing even brighter in the darkness of the night. Panic rose up his chest and knotted his throat. He had to go across it to go home.
He started speed walking which soon turned into a jog that eventually evolved into a steady run. He was right across from the sign. He saw the woman in the red dress who waved and smiled with an evil grin. He tried very hard not to scream. His running immediately became a sprint. He did not care where he was going; he just had to get away. A left. A right. Skip an intersection. Another right. He saw traffic lights but did not care if they were green, yellow, red, blue, or even peach; he simply kept running, his legs sore and aching. He didn’t dare look back in the fear of seeing her.
Finally he had to slow down; his body couldn’t go on. He would have collapsed if he hadn’t looked to his left to see his apartment door. He made a final effort to take out his keys, find the right one, push it through the lock, turn the key, open the door, run up the stairs, open his unit door, and shut his door closed behind him. He didn’t even bother climbing up on his bed; he simply collapsed on the floor. Of course, he fell asleep before he his head was on the rough carpet.

It was too bright. His eyes burned even with his eyelids glued together. His right side was completely paralyzed from sleeping on it, and his muscles were sore from all the running. He must have left the window blinds open. It was probably around noon. He tried turning away from the light, but it grew brighter and his muscles protested as he shifted positions on the rough carpet, which had now dotted its texture over his back and side. He finally woke. He slowly pushed himself up, his arms groaning under the weight, and blindly made his way to his bathroom. He washed his face with freezing water and shivered. He looked up to see a stranger staring back in the mirror. It had been too long since he had looked in a mirror. His light brown hair now extended all the way down to his shoulder and over his eyes. He had grown paler and thinner, too. He was almost too ashamed to look at himself; what had he become? Recalling the events of the previous night, he quickly examined his nose and took off his shirt to look at his back. Not a scratch. He was perfectly fine. He felt both relieved, and stupid for believing such an event had happened in the first place.
He left his bathroom. Looking at the clock at the entrance of his bedroom, he saw that it was only six in the morning, way too early for him to wake up. The sun shouldn’t have been so bright at this time of the day, and he knew he hadn’t left the lights on, so what had woken him up? It was probably some stupid dream. Speaking of which, he had not dreamt of peaches this time! For the first time in months! The thought of peaches awoke the desire to taste them somewhere in his mind, but the impulse went away as soon as it appeared. He didn’t want peaches anymore, at least as of now, but he had been fond of them. They had helped him get off the drugs that had ruined his life; peaches were good! The desire for peaches arose in him again. But was he better off without the drugs? He had lost his friends, but he hadn’t made new ones; he had lost his job, but he hadn’t gotten a new one; he had lost her, and knew he could never again be with her… Drugs were the reason for his losses, but being off them had not gained Dan anything. At least they gave him a temporary euphoria where he truly did not care about anything, and there was always the possibility of accidental overdose if he was lucky, dying in eternal happiness and possibly with her, or with his dream of her. He thought all of this as he turned the knob on his bedroom door. It turned with the same scratchy sound of its rusting mechanism, the door itself matching the tune with a squeaking sound as he pushed it open. She was there.
Dan was speechless. A pain crept through his heart. He forgot how to breathe. Tears formed in his eyes as he tried to decipher what he was seeing. She was there. Sitting on the side of his bed, dressed in a heavenly white dress that seemed to radiate its own light. Dan would have melted right then and there if it was possible. He had wrapped his heart in an iron cover to not feel anything since the tragic event. It would have been impossible for him to live with the pain if he hadn’t done so. But now, seeing her right there in front of him, that iron cover was shattered. All the tears he had gathered in the depths of his heart were flowing out of his eyes freely, all the tears he had stored ever since what had happened to her. He was too stunned to sob; he simply let the warm tears slide down his cheeks.
“Sally?” He managed the single word with such difficulty that her name took all the air out of his lungs, but she didn’t seem to hear him. She only looked at the carpet where he had been lying five minutes earlier. It was as if she were watching something through the texture of the white fabric. He looked there too, but saw nothing. “Sally, please. Please say something...” he pleaded, but she kept staring at the same spot. He would gladly have given his life to see her just one more time, and she was right there in front of him, sitting on his bed. How joyful was the moment for Dan! He could have reached to the skies and collected all the stars for her at the moment. Her silence was not going to ruin the moment for Dan.
He sat next to her. She slowly turned her head to look at him. She made a “shh” sound, bringing her index finger to her mouth. Then she used her other index finger to point at a spot on the carpet that she had been looking at for so long. Dan looked once again and saw the carpet slowly burn away to reveal a scene he was all too familiar with.
He looked at himself climbing a peach tree through the window his floor had mysteriously revealed. Dan watched as he kept climbing the tree to get the peaches at the top, climbing but not gaining any distance. Then he saw himself grab that one branch he knew would break, and cringed at the sight as he fell down the tree into a dark, bottomless pit. Next he saw himself waking up in a red room, talking with the woman that turned into a monster, and drowning in a lake of red liquid. At this point, he watched Sally reach through the carpet and pulled Dan out of the red substance and slammed him into himself. The monster screeched as the carpet burned shut, returning to its former state.
Dan took a deep breath and trembled.“You need to let it go, Dan,” Sally said in a very soft voice, “You have to,” Her tone was that of a mother to her child. She put her arm around him, “I will still be with you. You know that.”
“But Sal, I don’t understand. Why? I can’t let you go. I can’t bear it. I’ve lost everything. There’s nothing I can hold on to. Nothing except you. I can’t live without you, Sal.” He curled up on his bed, resting his head on her lap, sobbing.
“It only gets worse, Danny; it can’t go on like this. You’ve seen it for yourself. An addiction is an addiction no matter what. Peaches are no better than drugs if you make them an obsession.” Sally’s tone was so relaxing, so soothing that Dan wished the moment could last forever. Just them. Dan’s head on Sal’s lap, she telling him everything would be ok, and he just listening, just listening to her talk. She didn’t even have to say anything, really, she just had to be there. It was enough for Dan.
Dan sat up and looked at her, remembering the first time they had met, the years they had spent together, the poems he had written and the songs she had made out of those poems. But the human brain does not record only the good memories, so he remembered the peach orchard and what had happened there, a piercing wound crossing his heart as he did so…What a twist of fate that had been! What a terrible, horrible twist! Why had the dealer wanted to meet him there? Why had he accepted the meeting in the first place? It was his fault, completely his fault. Had he forgotten which orchard Sally had been working at? He had asked the question to himself over and over again, but he still couldn’t answer.
He had put his hands in his pockets so no one would see the way they shook. He had met the dealer at the back entrance of the orchard. It was a clean deal. He had the cash, the man had his stuff. But then Sally had come to say hi. Dan had worn a gray hoody that covered all of his head, trying to conceal himself from anyone who might have recognized him, but Sal knew him too well, too well for her own good. She had recognized Dan. God dammit, she had recognized him. “Hey Dan! Why wear a hoody on such a hot summer day?” she had said as she had lifted off his hood, and realizing Dan was talking with the man, “Oh, hi! Who’s your friend, Danny?” Dan had forgotten how to breathe at that moment and his mouth had instantly dried: he had realized what was about to happen.
“No, it doesn’t have to be like this, please, I can-”
Sally was confused.
“No witnesses. You know the rules.”
Sally was concerned.
“She didn’t see anything. C’mon, I’ll pay an extra-”
Sally was afraid.
“Nough talkin’, I’m done ‘ere,” the dealer said his last words.
One shot, and the dealer had vanished.
“Dan, what just happened?” Sally managed to stammer out as she stared at the gaping hole in her chest. Dan held her as she lost the strength to hold herself up and gently laid her down. Her breath was coming in short intervals. Dan had taken off his hoody and pressed it upon her wound, but the blood soon soaked it and kept pouring out of Sal’s body.
“You’ll be alright, you’ll be alright, you’ll be alright…” Dan had forgotten all the words he knew, and just kept repeating the same thing over and over again.
“Dan, look,” Sal pointed to the peach tree they were under, “see” she took a breath, “those-peaches” another breath, “up-top?” Dan managed to stutter a few “yes”s; “they” Sal could barely breathe, “look beautiful...”
Sally was dead.
Dan’s pain was as fresh now as it had been two years earlier...“Sal, you don’t understand. I’m neither addicted to peaches nor obsessed with them: I love you Sal, and your love is the only thing I have left in this world. I can’t give that up; don’t ask me to do such a thing.”
“I’m not asking you to give up your love, Dan; I will always be with you as long as you remember me; as long as you remember our songs; as long as you remember how much I loved you, we will be together. Please, if not for yourself, then do it for my sake,”
Suddenly, the carpet was ripped apart as the fierce red monster rose from the ground. “YOU CANNOT ABANDON ME!” it screeched as tentacles came from its body, zapped through the air and knocked both Dan and Sally away into separate corners of the room.
“It’s time Dan! You have to stop. You have to trust me. Get rid of this!” Sally shouted over the roars of the monster, but Dan didn’t know what to do. More tentacles came from the monster and grabbed both of them as if they were ragdolls. Dan had to act. Quickly. What should he do? The monster gripped Dan harder and Sally gave out a yell. Panic rose up his chest along with an intense worry for Sal. He squirmed and twisted, trying to get out of the monster’s iron grip, but the tentacle was even stronger than before. He punched the tentacles in rage as he gave out a war cry, but the monster only grew larger as he did so, feeding on his frenzy. He had to try something else. He felt his ribs crack under the impossibly strong grip of the tentacles. He was running out of breath.
“Peaches. Are. Disgusting,” He forced the three words with the last bit of air in his lungs. He felt his ribcage relax from the tentacles grip slightly, but just enough to allow him some new air.
“Keep going!” Sally yelled from the other corner of the room.
“I hate peaches.” He recalled throwing up after eating too many peaches. The tentacles, as if they had been chopped off, dropped onto the floor, disappearing after quick spasms went through each one of them. Dan and Sally dropped to the floor.
“You’re doing great!” Sally encouraged. Dan thought of the ants that were on his peaches and focused on how he had thrown the whole bag out. The monster was growing smaller and backing away, its arms trying to protect itself from an invisible power.
“I don’t need peaches,” he said, feeling an immense power run through his words. The monster was almost back to its form as a feeble looking old woman. “The peaches ruined my life just as drugs had.”
“No,” the old woman screeched as she started to shrink, her voice still high toned, but now no more than a whisper.
“Sally will always be with me. It’s not peaches but love that connects us.”
Finally, the monster disappeared with a shrill shriek. Only a single peach lay on the carpet.
“I’m proud of you Dan.” Sally approached him. She was more radiant with the white light than ever, but she was fading away.
“Can’t you stay here longer, just a minute longer? Please Sal, can’t you?”
“I can’t, Danny; I’ve done my duty and now I must leave, but I will-”
“Always be with me…” Dan completed her sentence, and he believed it too. She was almost transparent now. She leaned over and gave him a kiss on his cheek, then vanished.
Dan woke up on the rough carpet. The spot where she had kissed him in his dream was still warm. No, it wasn’t a dream. On the floor right next to him, he found a peach. He picked it up, going towards the trash, and as he saw Sal eternally smiling at him from the wall, he took a bite.