Hey there, FanFictioners. Here's a new story. It's a story that has bits of ATU and Beatles. I'm generally not a fan of the time-traveler stories, but that is why I'm writing one - to make it as original and interesting as possible. :)
Disclaimer: I do not own Across The Universe or the Beatles.
BLACKBIRD
PROLOGUE
The air in the room was layered with pale mist, obscuring its corners: the yellow light from the single lamp in the corner filtered through the mist, diffused, and threw itself upon the many things crammed into the room. On the bed lay two long shapes, about the same size as human bodies, carefully covered in white cloth. A young pre-pubescent girl sat on the floor in the middle of the room on top of a worn carpet, staring at the patterns on it. A little faded with age, they were, but the memories behind this carpet were as fresh as ever: this carpet had been purchased from Africa, many years ago. Of course, to her, years were nothing - merely waters through which to navigate, in any direction she wanted. For she had been taught that art by the two people who lay lifeless on the bed.
Zanora Elva Hendrixon traced one of the patterns with her index finger. Her nails had been painted black. She'd been sitting on a different floor on top of a different carpet just yesterday, pondering which colour of nail varnish would best suit her newly acquired ring - a rather striking one, a burnished silver band with ancient blackened runes engraved upon it. One might have thought that it was a nice imitation, the kind a young girl might be interested in, to be sold at a tourist gift-shop. This one was real. And it wasn't even ancient - indeed, it had been lifted right out of the time when it had been made, brand new. In the twenty-first century - where she had only lived for the first four years of her life, before her parents deemed her old enough to take along on their 'travels' - it would have been invaluable.
This ring, however, was of no value compared to the beautiful ring that lay on top of the sheets that covered the dead bodies of her parents. Elva only thought of it as beautiful because she knew of its power. But it only appeared like - indeed, it only was - a plain wooden band. There were words written on it - one might've thought they were painted with blue paint, but Elva knew that this was the true nature of the ring, the beautiful blue that always revealed itself when the ring was used - used to move through time.
The single most important thing her parents possessed. It was this ring that allowed them to move through years as they pleased. Elva - for that was what she'd always been called - drew back the sheet that covered her mother's face. Peaceful, the lines that had earlier begun to appear now washed away by her passing, Amira Elva Hendrixon's eyelids were drawn over the eyes that Elva remembered as the most beautiful she'd ever seen - the same jewels of the blue writing that was on the time-travelling ring.
In her last dying moment, Amira had fumbled with the tiring fingers of her left hand to pull of the ring from the middle finger of her right hand. She pressed it into her daughter's hands, telling Elva that she must use it, ordering her to put it on. 'Put it on!' she had urged, even as her voice weakened, it expressed the extreme urgency. Elva had obediently put it on, but as soon as the moment had passed and she had said goodbye and covered her parents' bodies, she had torn off the ring, repulsed by its contact with her skin. She had no right to wear it. It belonged to her parents. She knew how to use it - she'd seen them do it enough times - but she would not, could not. It was not hers.
The room was small, the only stable thing she'd known since the age of four - every few months, between going from one place to another, they would come back to this little room. It held all their worldly possessions, save those they chose to carry with them on their travels. But it would not do, Elva thought. She had to be calm, practical. She could not keep this room. She must move on.
Elva got up from the carpet and carried the bodies away. Nearby, there was a river. They would like that - like to be forever moving. They had, after all, chosen to travel for all their lives. They were not part of a secret society, nor were they on a great mission - they just liked to travel. Elva had inherited that love of traveling - living in the moment. Enjoying the ride. But now she must fend for herself - she would have to see how that would work out. They'd left plenty of money, along with the years of experience they'd drilled into her. She would manage.
Elva watched the ebb of the river carry their bodies away, side-by-side, not letting the water separate them. Then she returned to the room.
She could do anything she liked now.
Elva turned and saw her part of the room: there was a narrow bed, and many posters on the walls. Jimi Hendrix. Bob Marley. Pink Floyd. They were all there. The music of those decades - ones that she'd only briefly visited, because her parents weren't much interested in them - she would go there. She would see those, the heroes of her world. The gods. The ones that built the love of her life: music. Elva lived it, drank it. She would go there.
But where? They were spread out over Europe and America - she wanted to see them all.
Where could she possibly start?
