If the rain comes they run and hide their heads...

Four young Liverpool lads cross the street of London; covering themselves with their jackets.

...They might as well be dead...

One of them, the leader with the penetrating glaze in his eyes, stops and points to a building between a comic book store and a bakery. He starts moving toward the place and the others quickly follow.

...If the rain comes, if the rain comes...

Once the lads are inside the building, a gypsy woman enters through a beaded curtain. She's very old and very exotic-looking. She had lots and lots of jewerly on: gold bracelets, silver rings, black and red stone necklaces. Her blond hair was now a steely gray color. Her eyes were a deep violet. Her name was Madame Aishe.

"Welcome, Beatles," she purred. "I was expecting you..."

"Can you tell us how to get to the Palladium?" asked the jet-black hair Beatle. "See, we've lost our roadies and manager from a large pack of screaming girls, and we have a concert to perform very soon..."

"You won't be going," Madame Aishe replied.

The Beatles froze.

"What d'you mean?" spoke the short Beatle.

"Madame Aishe predicts there'll be no concert tonight..."

"Why you think that?" asked the leader Beatle. "Of course there'll be one!"

"Mass destruction and chaos will happen," Madame Aishe said. "If you go, you will die..."

"I've had enough of this," snarled the very slim Beatle. "Your just playing some sick joke, trying to scare us and make us be late for our concert! Now tell us: Do you know where the Palladium is?"

"Yes." Madame Aishe smiled. With a crooked finger she gestured for the lads to come and follow her to the next room through the beaded curtain. The Beatles hesitated, but soon caught up with the strange gypsy.

They sat around a table with a green table cloth thrown over it. A white crystal ball stood in the center. Madame Aishe closed her eyes and instruct the Beatles to recite their names.

"Paul..."

"George..."

"Ringo..."

"John!"

"With me are The Beatles," Madame Aishe spoke very deeply. "Oh great crystal ball, show me what will become of tonight's concert..."

Suddenly, the crystal ball had magically lit up. The Beatles widened their eyes at the mystic bright glow. "Yowza," muttered John. Ringo elbowed him to shut up. "There'll be no talking!" Madame Aishe barked. "Watch..." It didn't take long for an image to appear through the glass ball. The Beatles soon could see the inside of the Palladium Theater. They saw themselves performing on stage while their millions of fans cheered them on. Each Beatle smiled around the table. They were liking what they were seeing, so far. What could be the problem? Then a spark shoots up behind the stage. BANG! More sparks. Cheers soon turn into screams and shouts. The Beatles on stage stop performing. "LOOK OUT!" voices cry. The beautiful chandelier from above rips off the ceiling and falls straight down. One half of the theater is covered in flames. People are screaming and running away. "Ohmygod, ohmygod! Did you see that?" John Lennon screams into his mic. Paul McCartney yanks him backwards by the shoulders and they dash backstage, followed by George Harrison and Ringo Starr. Then the crystal ball had fogged up and there was nothing more to see.

"Damn, shit, fuck!" John cursed, leaning back in his chair wiping his mouth.

"What the hell was that?" Ringo demanded to Madame Aishe.

"That is your fate if you go to tonight's concert," the old gypsy woman said.

"I get it," Paul said with a nervous chuckle, "you're joking! Ha ha ha!"

She shook her head. "I am not."

"You're a spooky old lady who likes scaring people! That's not very nice, you know?" George exclaimed. "I can't be here any longer, I'm leaving this shitty place..." He scraped back his wooden chair and stormed off.

"Me too," Ringo said, leaving also.

"Screw you, and your magical crystal ball!" John spat. He was the third Beatle to go.

It was just Paul at the table now, and he looked very frightened. Madame Aishe reached over and took his hands. He gazed at her with his mouth wide open, unblinking. "Your friends are too scared to believe," the woman said in that soft, airy voice of hers. "You are their only hope. Stop them before it's too late."

"H-how?" Paul stammered. "I still can't believe it... Will the fire...?"

"The fire will happen," Madame Aishe nodded, "only if you go to the Palladium. No concert means no death."

"Well, I certainly don't want to die," Paul said. "Not like that. And all of those people..."

Madame Aishe squeezed his hands, "You must go," she said. "Stop your friends, and tell them you can't have the concert."

Paul sighed. "Alright," he said. He bit his lip. Madame Aishe had let go of his hands. Paul scraped his chair back and pulled his wallet out of his pocket. "Looks like it's going to be me who'll pay you," he said gently.

Madame Aishe waved him away. "I don't want your money. Now go!"

"Hey, guys, wait up!" Paul called after, running out of the building. "Hold on!"

"That woman has lost her marbles! Messed up in the head!" George said, shaking his head with disgust. Paul grabbed his arm and pulled him back. "Please," Paul said, "listen for a sec. Maybe she's right?"

John snapped, "The crystal ball's gone to ya head?"

"Maybe he's hypnotized!" Ringo yelped.

"No," Paul hissed, "I bloody am not. We're not having the concert!"

"Yes we are!" George argued.

"No, we can't!" Paul's eyes were dark and fierce. "I'm not going to have any people die tonight!"

"That dumb gypsy woman's a kook! She's a fraud, if I ever saw one!" John snarled.

Paul stood his ground. "Look lads, I'm sorry-"

The cute Beatle never got to finish his sentence for he was interupt by a terrible explosion.

Should I continue? :) Please review