Clock in the Sky
Chapter One
Magic Locket
Author's Note: Hello all you people. This one's my second attempt at a Monkees fan fiction. Hopefully, I'll finish it.
If you don't know me, I tend to forget to give physical descriptions of my characters. Therefore, I'm going to do it now, to get it out of the way. Audrey Reynolds is twenty-one years old when the story starts. She's 5'4", has straight shoulder-length black hair and dark brown eyes. Her cousins, Emma and Bella, are seven and eleven years old, respectively. What they look like isn't important, because this is the only chapter they make an appearance in.
I did my best with the description of the magic locket. It took a while to decide on what the silver shape was in the center of the locket. I discarded a Celtic knot, a dragon, and a winged horse, before I decided on a man riding a horse. I couldn't find any close-up pictures of it on the internet, so I had to use the season two DVD, which I'm lucky I have. So if you know for sure what it is, please let me know.
Happy 65th Birthday, Peter Tork!
Summary: (The Monkees) During a winter vacation in Malibu, Audrey Reynolds finds an artifact from the Monkees' TV show, and it throws her back in time. Will she be able to find her way back, or will she be stuck in the past forever?
Disclaimer: I wish I owned the Monkees. But I don't. SIGH. I suppose I should also say that the title was taken from "Porpoise Song," from the Monkees movie Head. It's my favorite Monkees song. Yay! I also don't own MAD magazine or TV Land. Dude, if I owned TV Land, The Monkees would SO be on there.
Author's Note Part II (02/13/09): So, two years later, I'm changing things around. I'm pushing this back three years, to 1965. 2005 remains the same, so there's now a 40-year gap instead of a 37-year gap. I've also changed Bella's age to eleven, but since it's not important in CITS, I doubt any of you care. So, Emma is seven and Bella is eleven.
Incidentially, Happy 67th Birthday, Peter Tork. Hehehe.
"Marco!"
"Polo!"
"Marco!"
"Po– Hey! You opened your eyes, I saw it!"
"I did not!"
"You did too!"
"Did not!"
"Did too!"
"Did not!"
I rolled my eyes and looked over the top of my magazine. "Emma! Bella! Cut it out and play fair!"
My two younger cousins turned from where they were playing Marco Polo out in the water. "Sorry, Audrey!" they chorused, and then returned to their game.
It was December 21, 2005. I was spending my winter vacation in Malibu with my mother's side of the family. It was so nice to get away from Montana, where it was really getting cold. It was about sixty degrees in Malibu, which was great, compared to the twenty degrees we had left behind in Montana.
It was the second day of our vacation. Bella and Emma really wanted to go swimming, so my mother and I had offered to take them to get them out of my aunt and uncle's hair for a while. We thought it was still a bit cold to be swimming in the ocean, but Bella and Emma certainly didn't think so. They were having a great time. Mom and I were laying on beach towels on shore. Every once in a while, Mom would take pictures of the girls in the water, or of me reading the latest issue of MAD magazine.
I had been born in Nashville, Tennessee, and we lived there until Dad passed away when I was seventeen. He had been diagnosed with cancer less than a year before, but it had been too far along for any treatment to have much effect, and he died in June of 2001. Four months later, Mom and I moved to Choteau, Montana, where we were closer to her side of the family. I finished high school, and then went to a local community college for a two-year degree in Music Education. After I finished there last spring, I moved out of my mom's house. I didn't go far, moving into an apartment on the other side of town. I hadn't yet gone back to school, as I was saving up to move out of my apartment and buy my own house.
Boredom finally got the better of me, and I closed my magazine and sat up, stretching. "I'm gonna go for a walk down the beach," I said to Mom as I stood.
"Okay," she said. "Don't go too far."
"I won't," I promised, and started off. I walked for about five minutes before I decided to turn around and head back. As I was turning, I noticed something glittering in the sand by my feet. Curious, I knelt down and brushed some of the sand off the object, revealing a thick twisted gold chain. I picked it up. Attached to the chain was a round, gold locket about three inches in diameter. In the center was a silver figure of a man on a horse.
My mouth fell open in shock when I recognized the locket. It was the magic locket from the "Fairy Tale" episode of The Monkees.
Or, at least, something that looked very similar to it. Still, I muttered "Sweet!" to myself. The Monkees was my favorite TV show, even though the series ended nearly forty years ago, in 1968. It was about a rock-and-roll group living in a beach house in Malibu. Mike Nesmith, Micky Dolenz, Davy Jones, and Peter Tork compromised the band. They turned out to be a huge hit, selling more records than the Beatles and Elvis combined. I had gotten hooked on The Monkees when I had seen a few episodes on TV Land a few years ago. Both of my parents had been fans of the show when it was on the air in the sixties, and I had received all of Dad's original vinyl records when he died.
If you asked me which of the Monkees was my favorite, I wouldn't be able to decide. I liked each of them equally, though for different reasons. Mike was the serious one, and I really liked the green wool hat he always wore on the show. Micky was the funny one, always ready with a joke. Davy was the cute one from Manchester who was in love with a different girl every week. And Peter was the lovable dummy who played the banjo, which was a totally awesome instrument.
I held the locket by the pendant and brushed a few bits of stray sand off of it. I wonder what it would be like to meet the Monkees, I thought idly.
Suddenly, there was a bright flash of white light, and I was thrown backwards. I landed hard on my back and the locket flew out of my hand. I laid there for a moment, completely shocked. "What was that?" I muttered to myself, sitting up and rubbing my now-sore back.
I froze when I noticed my surroundings. Everything had changed. The sun was no longer shining brightly, but hiding behind a thick layer of clouds. The waves were rougher, and I was surrounded by a cluster of large rocks that hadn't been there a moment before.
I stood up, now beginning to panic. "Where the hell am I?" I asked out loud.
"Are you all right?" came an English voice. I spun around, intending to ask whoever it was what was going on, but the words died on my lips when I realized who I was looking at. I stared at him with wide eyes, thinking I had suddenly gone inexplicably insane.
I was looking at a 1960's version of Davy Jones. He was slightly shorter than me, wearing a pale blue button-up shirt and dark grey pants. His hair was just as it had been on the show, and his mock-sideburns came down to just past his ears.
Davy was apparently getting a bit unnerved by my stare. "Miss?"
Davy isn't in his twenties! my mind screamed. He's fifty-nine! This isn't right! My panic now full-blown, I did the first thing I could think of: turn and run.
Or I tried to, anyway. I had only taken a few steps before I tripped over one of the big rocks, and everything went black.
Author's Note: Yay! Did you like it? You should tell me. See the little button down there? All you have to do is push it and type a sentence or two. Go for it! I love you all!