Hello there guys, I'm Brielyn, and this is my first Fanfiction, so please don't criticize me too harshly. I'm begging you. XD So, I had this idea stuck in my head for a while and I wanted to try it out. If you guys like it, I'll write another chapter. :3 I worked on this for a looooong time so it would be just the way I wanted it, so...yeah. I wanna post it now. This story is about John Lennon's murder, but with a little twist ;) well, maybe a BIG twist, but whatever. R&R please! :D And please don't slam me with harsh "constructive criticism", if you don't like it, please tell me nicely. XD
And also, sorry for grammatical errors. We're not all perfect...
Disclaimer: Ugh, you gotta be KIDDING me..I do not own The Beatles, John Lennon, or Mark Chapman and his family. XD
Okayyyyyyyy, here goes nothing...Sorry this story's so short! DX
December 8, 1980: Manhattan: 10:35 P.M.
Natalie POV
"Where are we going?" I inquired my stepbrother Mark. He continued hauling me to his car, obviously wanting me to accompany him somewhere.
"I don't even know what I was running for-I guess I just felt like it." he quoted. His enthrallment with Catcher in the Rye was becoming CRAZY. He had definitely become mad. From nowhere, he would quote excerpts from that stupid book. I continued leaving telltale signs with my aunt Kathryn, his mother, by placing brochures for mental hospitals all around her home-or should I say their home. Mark still resided with his mother because he was an inclusive and absolute idiot and was terrified that the cops will catch him with all the LSD and marijuana in his closet. Kathryn didn't know about it-well at least I HOPE she didn't…anyways, you understand what my concern was. Mark was completely and utterly mad, and nobody took any initiative to it except for me.
"That doesn't respond to my question. Tell me where we're going. Now." I insisted, wondering why I was even accompanying him in the first place. He let go of my wrist and looked at me.
"Aren't you thrilled, Natalie? We're off to see the Walrus, the astonishing Walrus of the Dakota..." he laughed with an evil grin on his face. What a crazy ass…
"You mean John Lennon?" I asked. He nodded, evil written all over his face. The smell of marijuana from his breath wafted through the air.
"Just get in the car, already!"
"But why are we-"
"GET IN!"
I quickly ran to the passenger seat side of the car and entered. I recognized that he had a revolver on his dashboard and as soon as he entered into the car, I questioned him about it.
"Mark. Why do you have a gun on your dashboard?"
He turned his head toward me. "I'm going hunting later."
"Oh, okay. In the middle of Manhattan in the snow? At 11 at night? That's not strange at all…"
"Don't question me!" he yelled.
"Well it sounds like a pretext…tell me the real reason why you have a gun."
"I'm hunting walrus." And then he put the key in the ignition and started driving.
"Who hunts walrus…?" I thought for a minute to myself. When I realized what he tried to put across through figurative and metaphorical speech, I gasped.
"WHAT?"
"You heard me. Walrus."
"No, you're not. You're not going to assassinate him. Don't even think about it."
"Yes, I am going to assassinate him. And you can't stop me."
"Oh really?"
He nodded. I could not let him take anybody's life, let alone my best friend's. John was my best friend in high school. Our friendship broke when I moved to the United States a year after high school to live with Mark and his mother. I moved out after college, and I visited Mark and Kathryn on a somewhat-daily basis.
Mark drove out of the apartment's parking garage and into the chaotic streets of Manhattan. The reverberation of cars honking at Mark filled my ears. He was speeding and swerving all over the road-weaving in between taxi cabs, trucks, and cars. I was taken aback that the police weren't after him because of his reckless driving. We soon reached 72nd Street and Central Park West, and at this time, I was strongly trying not to panic too much. I could not visualize John with death knocking on his door in the hands of my stepbrother right before my eyes, and I had to put a stop to this as soon as possible... Then I thought twice: would I risk my life for the most recalcitrant, disobedient, reckless, stubborn, insurmountable, world-hating man I had ever met, despised, and eventually became best friends with and left? I think I would.
He parked the car right across the street from the Dakota Apartments, and a limousine parked in the driveway came into view. Yoko Ono, his second wife, emerged from the limousine first, and then John. Yoko entered the giant, satanic looking gates of the Dakota and headed up the stairs. Mark took hold of the revolver, opened the car door, and scampered across the surprisingly calm and serene road free of speedy cars. What was I going to do? Quickly, I unfastened the glove box and discovered another loaded revolver in there. I clutched it, opened the door on the passenger's side, and quickly and quietly darted across the road behind Mark. Mark reached the walkway and pointed the loaded revolver toward John.
"NO! MARK, DON'T!" I shrieked.
John POV
I bore in mind that slightly high pitched tone of voice from so long ago almost immediately. I quickly twisted around to come across Natalie sprinting up to me with a gun in her palm, and a slightly obese and grotesque man aiming one in the direction of me. I didn't lose my courage, but I was truly petrified, not having one idea of what was about to happen. Natalie sprinted in front of me, safeguarding me from this outlandish man, but the man pulled the trigger, probably by accident and it struck her right in the shoulder. She instantly took hold of it and winced. At this point, Yoko was probably calling the police, but I didn't seem to pay any attention.
"Mark…" she said almost inaudibly, obviously injured and in agonizing pain. Natalie began to fall to the ground, but I assisted her up, regardless of how much blood would flow onto my shaking hands. Becoming conscious of the reality that he had just shot his stepsister as an alternative, Mark placed the revolver under his jaw and pulled the trigger.
I BET YOU DIDN'T EXPECT THAT.
Or maybe you did because you're pcychic, I don't know. Pleaseeeeee REVIEW!
~Brielyn (:
