Breaking FallA Story by Treo LeGigeoThe cross-country train station was completely deserted. Perfect. There was no one to see me, no one to find me, no one to recognise me... The
morning rain fell around me, shining slightly in the light of the small sliver
of sun that was beginning to peer over from the East. The movie set I was
shooting on was located on a picturesque stretch of grassland, which would have
appeared like a Garden if
The sound of footsteps snapped me out of my reverie. No, it can’t me.
Surely there couldn’t be anyone else this early? With sense of dread, I turned slowly
turned around to see a woman about my age walking to the edge of the
platform. A flicker of panic crossed my features. The last thing I needed now was
for the magazines to get wind of this. She reached the yellow line and stopped,
looking over at me. Then it happened. Her frame was
slender and petite, her thin brown hair falling in wisps around her shoulders.
Her eyes were a piercing green, the kind you could get lost in for hours, but
they were poignant, showing the tell-tale signs of a dark past. She seemed to
have a glow about her, making her stand out from the grey concrete background,
the dim dawn light, and the pretentious monotony that was my life. We both felt
the connection, the inexplicable, discarnate connection as we stood there
gazing into each others eyes. Not a single thing was said, but we exchanged
more than we could have through a thousand words of conversation. I saw her fear,
the anguish in her past, and she saw the terror, the trap that I needed to
escape from.
"Dylan." "Nice to meet you." She smiled
gently and I had my first chance to look at her close up. Dark bags lay under
her eyes and there were traces of make up on her face. Her clothes looked new,
but were completely out of style, as was her old brown handbag. She
looked…normal. I realised that, for the first time ever, I was in the presence
of someone who wasn’t another pompous superstar or a crazed shutterbug, someone
who had no expectations, someone who didn’t scrutinise me, didn’t judge me. And
in that in that one second, everything I had been holding back flooded out. I saw clearly, away from the screen, the
smoke, the masks, I had spent my entire life being something I wasn't. From the
moment I was born, my parents had pushed me into showbiz. My childhood had been
spent racing from set to set, with no friends, no companions, not even a mother
and father who cared for me past the money I was reeling in and the popularity
I brought the family. My adulthood been nothing but a roller-coaster ride
on the ups and down of a fame I never wanted. And yet, I was one of a class
that was envied by so many around the world. Thousands of children dreamed of
being in my place, living my empty, meaningless existence. I had a dangerously
swollen bank account full of millions I didn't know how to use which, despite
my bitterness, was still growing. In my whole, coveted life, I had not done
a single thing of my own free will. She didn't speak. No, words were
unnecessary. She simply sat there, holding me through my sobs and shudders as
the train raced through the deserted countryside. She seemed to share in my
pain, my sorrow, and her wordless support was more comfort than any condolence
could have been. Time passed, and the journey continued,
the trees flashing past the windows and the carriage rattling along the tracks.
When the train finally stopped upon reaching its destination, the silence and
stillness felt eerie, almost unnatural. I felt This platform was just as deserted as the
one I had embarked on. I had boarded that train with no knowledge of where it
was headed, but I assumed I had ended up somewhere up north. The sun was now
sitting firmly above the horizon, radiating its orange glow throughout the
land. I just stood there, on the edge of the platform, watching the back of the
train as it sped off into the distance. Once again, the pitter-patter of
footsteps brought me back to Earth. “You don’t have anywhere to go do you?” * * * The cabin we lived in for the next few
weeks was a simple log lodging, with electricity but not many electrical
appliances, and, luckily for me, very few connections to the outside world. However,
it wasn’t right. Everyday, the incident on the train hovered in the air between
us. We barely spoke aside from the necessary, as if speaking was too dangerous
in case we accidentally revealed what we were hiding, revealed just why we were
there that fateful morning. It was a clear, bright dawn when I walked
past her room and heard a noise from inside. It wasn’t the yawn or soft snore
that I usually heard, but a sob. Uncertainly, I pushed open the oak door and
stepped inside to see the small figure lying in a heap on the bed, dressed in
her pajamas with a blanket strewn roughly over half of her trembling body. “ “Nothing, I’m- I’m fine.” She wiped her
eyes again and made to get up, but I pulled her back. “Don’t be silly, you can tell me.” She
shook her head, turning so her back was to me and continued to cry. “No, it’s my problem, you don’t have to
worry.” “ Her sobs stopped and she turned back
around to face me. I could see her hesitate, debating for a few seconds.
Finally, she blinked, a few more tears spilling past her lashes, and began her
side of the story. “I met him when I was seventeen years old.
His name was Luke and I swear, he looked like a Greek god. He was nearly ten
years older that me, but that didn’t stop me from falling head over heals in
love with him. My parents didn’t approve of our relationship, so I broke all my
ties with them. He didn’t like me seeing my friends, so I stopped going out. He
even convinced me to drop out of the school and just stay home to look after
his house. At the time I didn’t even realise how wrong our relationship was.”
She took a deep breath. “Then, a few weeks ago, I was on the computer when an
email popped up. Luke hadn’t logged out and, by the time I realised it was for
him it was too late.” A new trail of tears ran down her cheek. “It was from
another woman, and they had been seeing each other for a while.” I
lifted a hand to wipe her tears away. “Don’t think about the past. Everyone
makes mistakes. At least you got away and now can live your life the way you
want,” I said quietly. She shook her head. “No, it’s just, despite everything, I miss
him. Well, not exactly him, I miss having someone. Someone to be with, to talk
to, I mean, he wasn’t the world's greatest guy, but at least he was there.” She
drew in a shuddering breath. “Now I don’t have anyone.” I ran my fingers over her jawline and turned
her head to face me. “That’s not true.” Slowly, I leaned over and pressed my
lips to hers. “You have me.” * * * The next days that passed were my first
taste of freedom. For the first time ever I had a life which I could live at my
own pace, a space I could reside in that wasn’t filled with cameras, and I
woman who I didn’t have to share with a pointless career. Everything was
perfect. Perfect that is, until the day I walked past the foyer to see “Come Dylan, you should have a look at
this. There’s an article which may interest you.” The coldness in “ “You’re Dylan Parker.” She cut in. “You
lied to me. You used me to disappear after the public found out you were
abusing your girlfriend.” “No, please-“ “Can you believe that I actually thought
you would understand? That you actually needed comfort on the train?” Her voice
was now bordering on a yel. “It was all an act wasn’t it. Your whole life is an
act. I actually thought you cared about me, but you wouldn’t understand what
caring was if you looked it up in the dictionary.” “ “What was I going to be, another one of
your oblivious girls?” “Just let me explain-“ “No, I don’t need you to. It’s all right
here.’ To gave the newspaper a shake. “So I suggest you get out before I call
the police. You can find somewhere else you run away from what you’ve done,” she
almost screamed as walked over to the door and wrenched it open, waiting in the
doorway expectantly. When I still didn’t move she grabbed my arm dragged me out
onto the doormat. But
I didn’t walk away. I stood there, staring at blue and green horizon, and took
a deep breath. “You were wrong,” I whispered, not meeting her gaze. “Why, is a fax cheaper than calling 911?” she
sneered. “You were wrong on the train. I wasn’t
running away. I loved Simone more than anything and she left me because she
couldn’t deal with my lifestyle. I would rather die than hurt her. That was all
just a sick rumour started by the gossips.” “Not running away.” She gave a dry laugh
completely devoid of amusement. “Then pray tell, why else were you catching a
train to the middle of nowhere at the crack of dawn?” Excruciatingly slowly, I turned to look
into her smoldering jadeite eyes. “I was never planning on catching that
train.” Her face was
hard, her mouth set in a thin line. “I was planning
on being found a few days later, dead on the tracks behind it.” * * * "World renowned
Dylan Parker, star of the films Dreams are Futile, Silence in the Leaves, and
the Hilltop series, has just been signed off his current project, Saturdays For
Me, after being reported as missing five weeks earlier. He disappeared after
receiving the call which put an end to his two year relationship with school teacher
Simone Allen and rumour has it that they had she ended their relationship after
a long period of unwarranted violence and that he removed himself from the grid,
or even fled the country to avoid the dealing with the scandal and possible
arrest. Either way, it seems that after a lifetime of dancing in the clouds,
this idol finally fell to the ground." The news reader’s voice was tinny through
the low definition television set aboard the luxurious houseboat. The last afternoon
sun cast a warm orange glow over the sparkling blue ocean that spanned for
miles all around as far as the eye could see. Fell to the ground The ex-celebrity
looked down at the green-eyed brunette who smiled up at him from his lap. And the ground caught me © 2013 Treo LeGigeoAuthor's Note
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StatsAuthorTreo LeGigeoSydney, NSW, AustraliaAboutI'm from Australia, so some people may find that I spell things differently. I love writing and have had a couple of publications of short stories and novellas under a pseudonym. I started .. more..Writing
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