Hello everyone! I am new on here and I am super excited to be sharing this with all of you who decide to read this wonderful (well, at least in my opinion) story! Although this is my first story, I have written 9 chapters for it already so I will be posting (hopefully) every week (unless I forget hehe) :) So, I hope you give this a chance! My writing is still in improvement so I hope you can all bear with me until I finally get the hang of writing a story! But without further adieu, I present to you Nothing is Real. Thank you so much to everyone who reads this and let your imagination take you away! Yay!

Disclaimer: I don't own The Beatles *cries* but I do own the wonderful character of Catherine Taylor

October 9th, 2015

Stepping out of the shade and into the blinding sun, I boarded the bus that was patiently waiting for its passengers with the few things that I had packed from my hotel in London.

Today was finally the day, the day I have been waiting for for such a long time. Easing myself up the steps, I walked past the bus driver, gave him a small smile and made my way towards the back of the bus.

Being a 74 years old had its perks, like the senior citizen discount on my ticket, but also so many disadvantages that I would not even begin to list out.

"Thank God there's only a few people on here," I whispered to myself, settling into a seat near the window. I had never been too keen on large crowds ever since I got lost in a crowd at Blackpool when I was 5 years old. But that was an entirely different story.

I landed in England from New York two days before to embark on this journey that was ahead of me.

Leaving my two kids at home with my husband has been something I have grown accustomed to; traveling around the world has been a lifelong dream since I was very little.

I believe that my family understood it. They have always encouraged it, something I am very grateful for.

They knew all about my past and what I have been through, so I think they would want me to overcome any feelings on despair and regret that I had when I was not travelling and trying to relive my past life once more.

I flattened out my skirt out of pure nerves and gazed over the landscape of England as the bus began to travel towards my destination.

Taking in my surroundings brought up so many precious memories to my mind.

England was my home, my heart, my everything since the time I was born.

June 30th, 1957 Liverpool, England

"JOHN!" I screeched, "YOU'RE GOING TO PAY FOR THIS!"

"Ah come on Cat, it was only a joke meant for you to laugh not to scream your bloody head off!" John laughed with a growing smile on his face.

My name is Catherine Elizabeth Taylor, but everyone called me Cat, or at least the people under the age of 20 did anyways.

I was born on September 8th, 1941, thankfully not when bombs were littering the air and streets during WWII.

With long brown hair and sparkling blue eyes, people told me I was the exact replica of my grandmother when she was younger.

I never knew why I took that as a compliment or why people even told me that, but my family always reminds me every time I see them that she was the beauty queen of her age that broke hearts and stole the attention of men from every corner of the world.

Oh, how joyous.

But at 16 years old I had dreams that far exceeded that of a simple minded beauty queen.

I wanted to travel the world, become a musician, super spy that saved the world with her incredible charm and intelligence.

I am obviously kidding, of course. I am not that weird!

In reality, my true aspiration was to become an actress. Hollywood is the goal, I tell every person I meet. Being a superhero could wait until another day. But every potential heroine of her day has to have a weakness, right?

Mine just happened to be… snakes.

"Now, John, tell me exactly why you thought it would be a good idea to put a snake in my mailbox?!" I exclaimed, clearly not amused, but also terribly frightened a great deal.

But I would not let the jerk that I dislike very much at the moment that happens to be standing less than 2 feet away from me see that.

"Well, let me offer you a brief explanation," He began, "I happened to see it crawling all over in the grass by your little tree and I thought, what if the poor creature is scared and all alone in this big, big world?" He explained to me, trying very hard to cover the laughter that was threatening to spill from his mouth.

"I thought it needed a home, ya know? And then I thought, yes! Cat Taylor's mailbox is the exact place a snake would absolutely adore to live." He said throwing his hands up in the air.

Shaking my head with a smirk and with a hand on my hip I said, "Then, Lennon, why don't you crawl in there yourself and make yourself right at home cause the true snake I see here is you."

John gasped and put his hand up to his head dramatically as if he were a sliver screen actress, seriously trying to look offended by my weak comeback. I couldn't help but giggle at his crazy actions.

Then with a wink he said, "At least I'll be near you all times of the day then. Only a stones throw!"

He stepped towards me a tightly wrapped his arms around my body as if he truly was a snake. "Oh get off me you nit!" I laughed as I pushed him off me.

He took a few steps back and just winked at me again, in a more dramatic fashion this time. I rolled my eyes at him and shook my head.

Those two gestures were extremely common for me to make whenever I was with him. It was learned over years of his nonsense.

John Winston Lennon and I have been best friends ever since our 3rd year in school. Even though I was one year younger than him, I was in his class because they deemed me to be "special" enough to skip a grade.

One particular day in class, the day we became friends, John had thought it would be absolutely hilarious to throw glue into the braid my mother had oh so carefully done before school that day.

His explanation, "I thought the glue would go along with the dress." I'll admit it, I cried.

My 8-year-old feelings were hurt like they never were before. John had felt so bad afterwards and tried to apologize to me after school when we were walking home, but I punched him in the arm so hard he fell down on the pavement with a bang!

I was so surprised by my strength and he was so surprised by my spunk that we both laughed it off, introduced ourselves and became inseparable ever since.

Thank goodness for that glue, I tell him when we happen to be talking about our childhood. I always bring up the story whenever I am feeling sentimental about our younger days.

He loves, but also hates when I do so he always fires right back with a laugh and says to shove my fist up my ass, obviously remembering that I beat him up.

But, he will never admit that.

I definitely hurt his ego that day, point for me!

"Alright now that the moment of my incredible hilarity has passed, I'm still incredibly bored, what do ya wanna do pussy Cat?" John said, still holding the snake in his hand.

"First of all, please put down the snake and then we'll talk." I giggled nervously, taking a slight step back away from that thing. John bent down and placed the snake on the ground.

We both watched it peacefully slither away in oblivion.

Good riddance.

"Second of all, don't call me that unless you want a bruised foot." I taunted, wagging my finger at him.

"You've got me shakin' in me boots, Cat." He said shaking a little, taking my hand to try and shake me too.

He then proceeded to start shaking my hand vigorously in a death grip. "So sorry, so so sorry I'll never do it again, let us be friends. Till death do us part." He said with an overly dramatic British accent.

"Ok, ok Johnny please refrain from doing that, I accept your apology." I giggled, taking my hand from his and rubbing my wrist gently.

John clearly does not know how strong he actually is.

"Alright, Lennon, you're coming with me." I said slinging my arm loosely around his shoulder after a silent moment passed between us. "To cure your boredom, we're gonna go to the place of your wildest fantasies and to the place where all your dreams will come true."

"The strip club?!" John giddily yelled, "Cat, you doll!"

"Ha ha ha, no," I rolled my eyes, "You weren't even close, we're going to the record store! Have to look for some new Elvis records, yeah?"

I shook my legs, poorly imitating the famous Elvis moves.

He laughed at my weirdness, which was normal, and shook his head.

"Some fantasy…" He mumbled, "But, alright, I'm in."

"You might be one of the strangest men that I have ever met in all of Liverpool, John Winston Lennon." I smiled.

"And you're one of the realest birds, but also one of the biggest nutters I've ever had the pleasure of meeting, Catherine Elizabeth Taylor." He said looking down at me, nudging my shoulder.

The realest?

"Well, John, I think that you've forgotten, but," I said, taking my arm off his shoulder and running up ahead of him, "Nothing is real."

I spun around with a laugh and raced off to the store with John close behind me all the way, starting off another beautiful and eventful day in the summer of Liverpool.