Ridley: Well, I hope that you guys all like this story :) I'm a bit hesitant to post it, just cause I've never written a Beatles fix before...
Dragon: And nor should you. You take 'creepy fangirl' to a whole new level.
Ridley: Shut up and do the disclaimer.
Dragon: Whatever. Ridley is in now way, shape, or form affiliated with the Beatles.
Ridley: Thank you, Dragon. Enjoy!
This is the story of how I screwed with time. Let me just point out, it was all by accident. At least, in the beginning it was. My name is Gwen Charles, and this all started on August 8th, 2015.
I had just left my job at the pizza place a couple of blocks away from my house. I was walking because I had let my housemate borrow my car for the day, and wasn't expecting her to be back until later with groceries, but this left me with actually using my legs to walk the two blocks East to my apartment. Fun. The wind was blowing my short, dark brown curls into my face, and I felt hair stick to my lip gloss.
The pizza place that I worked at was just off of Main Street, which meant that I at least got to walk past all of the cool, mostly tourist-y, shops on my way home. It was all cool, but nothing I would buy for myself, or at least nothing in the window displays really stuck out to me. That is, until I got to a little pawn shop, it didn't even have an actual name, that had a bunch of really cool looking stuff in the displays. There was an old mannequin thing with a frilly hat perched on the top and a red purse slung over it's shoulder; one of those really old Winnie the Pooh bears, and there, on a bust that looked like it came from the salon three doors down, was the necklace. it was a thin silver chain that would maybe go to the collar bone of the wearer, with an long stretch of singular chain going down the center. At the end of the long chain was what looked like a round locket.
If I had known then what I know now, I wouldn't have taken it. Probably. But of course I was drawn to it like a magpie is to shiny objects.
I walked into the the shop, wrinkling my nose at the sour smell of dust and mothballs. Ergh, what a combination. I notice a guy at the counter, maybe in his late fifties, who was writing stuff in a little black notebook. Probably taking inventory or something. He looked up when he heard the door shut and gave a wide smile.
"Hello, young lady. Is there anything I can help you get?" He asked me. I offered a small smile of my own.
"Um, yeah. That necklace that you have in the window display, how much is it?" I asked tentatively. It was more than likely going to be some outrageous price, and I would have to walk away empty handed.
"The silver one that would be twenty five dollars, miss. Would you like me to get it for you?" My heart soared. Only twenty five bucks? Hallelujah! I nodded eagerly, my grin growing.
"Thanks so much." I said as he walked out from behind the counter and picked up the bust from behind the window. He undid the clasp, and walked back behind the counter to ring me up. I paid in cash, as I liked to save my card for big purchases.
"Would you like this to be put into a box?" He asked me.
"Yes, please." He nodded, and pulled a small, nondescript brown box from below the counter and after wrapping it in tissue paper, placed the necklace inside. I thanked him once more before leaving the store, smiling all the way.
I walked the remaining distance to the apartment complex and once I was inside, I decided to take the elevator, as I was very exhausted from my walk home. I rode the elevator up three floors before getting off and heading down the hall towards my apartment, which would more than likely be empty at this time of day. Kate, my housemate, was running errands all day, which left me complete alone. I set my purse and the box containing my new necklace on the kitchen counter before I headed to my bedroom to change out of my work clothes (black pants, red collared shirt) and into a pair of jeans and a faded black and white plaid shirt over an old Beatles Rubber Soul t-shirt. Ah, comfort.
I lounged a bout for a bit, playing on my phone, before I remembered the necklace I had bought. I went back to the kitchen to grab it. I opened the box and unwrapped the tissue paper, and accidentally dropped the locket on the floor. Bending down to pick it up, I noticed that the fall had caused it to come open. Inside was definitely not what I had expected. It was a pearly white color, and in green it had 1964 inscribed on it, with something written illegibly beneath it. Well that's...
There was a flash of light, the same green color as the writing, and my surroundings changed. I was in what appeared to be a hotel room, a big one at that, but I was definitely not alone.
...weird.
Crap.
I looked at who I was in the room with, and nearly stopped breathing when I saw their faces. Oh my gosh, oh my gosh...
They looked just like The Beatles.
"Oi! How'd that bird get in here?" One of them, unmistakably John, called, pointing at me The others blinked at me in an owlish manner, and I resisted the urge to either scream or giggle insanely.
"Are you an an alien?" Ringo asked, inching close to me and poking my arm. A small, high pitched squeal escaped me before I could stop it. Wow, I'm an embarrassment to myself. Ringo looked at me curiously, but Paul, who was sitting on one of the beds, waved a hand dismissively.
"Nah, Rings, that's a fairly normal reaction. After all, she is in the presence of the prettiest Beatle." He tucked his hands under his chin and fluttered his lashes as if he were Snow White, and at that point I couldn't take it anymore. I burst out laughing, which made all of them jump in surprise. Ringo looked like he was about to pee his pants, John and George were clinging to each other, and Paul was leaning back, his eyes wide. "Erm..."
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," I apologized, a little giddy and breathless, "but, you're really them!"
"Really who?" George asked, confused. John smacked him lightly on the back of the head.
"Only the biggest band in the world, loon," he chided him, "really. Who?" He said the last word in a mock of George's voice. George gave him an annoyed look, but said nothing.
"Yes!" I squealed slightly again. "Sorry, it's just, I think I just... Oh, maybe I shouldn't tell you that... But... Nah, who cares, I just time traveled!"
The Fab Four shared similar looks of 'Oh, wow, this is one crazy little girl, let's call the psychiatric ward'. I whipped my phone out of my pocket, and they eyed it curiously.
"No, look, I can prove it. Here, look at this." I hurriedly clicked on my camera and thrust the thing in George's face. "See, I'm not crazy." George blinked, looking at himself on the screen from all angles before looking back at his bandmates.
"She might be right," he said with a shrug. John lunged forwards and snatched the camera from my hand.
"No way." He muttered to himself. He turned the phone over in his hands. "What proof is this, it's just a really weird-"
"Really gear!"
"-camera. That doesn't make someone from the future." I grabbed it back from him, scowling a bit. Wow. I mean, I had known that John Lennon was a bit obnoxious and all when he was alive, but experiencing it first hand was... well, it was still cool, not gonna lie.
"It's a smart phone. That means it has a camera on it, as well as apps, movies, and music." I explained, rubbing his fingerprints off of my screen with my shirt. "If you want, I can play a song for you."
John leaned back with a smirk. Alright, play one of ours then. One that hasn't been written." I rolled my eyes. This was way to easy. George, Ringo, and Paul looked at me expectantly.
"Whatever," I said, clicking on my music icon before selecting a Beatles song at random.
"What would you do if I sang out of tune, would you stand up and walk out on me?" Ringo's distinctive voice came from my phone's speaker. Ringo's mouth hung open in shock. As soon as the song ended, he turned towards me.
"What was that?" he demanded. I smiled.
"That, my dear Richard, was one of the most popular Beatles songs to date. It was from your nineteen sixty six album, Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band, and it's about drugs." I shrugged. "You guys were experimenting. Personally, I like it, but it's not my favorite." John's face gained a smug smile.
"And, pray tell, Miss Future, what is your favorite?" I blushed and glanced at George, who blinked at me. "Ah, um, Here Comes the Sun," I mumbled, not looking at any of them and chewing on the inside of my bottom lip.
"And which one of us sings that?" Paul pressed, obviously curious. I stared at an interesting spot on the wall above the bathroom door.
"George." I said nonchalantly, though I was screaming at myself on the inside. I was as red as a strawberry, and three of the four lads were wolf whistling at me. George looked rather pleased with himself.
"Did I write it, too?" He asked me eagerly, a goofy grin on his face. I nodded. "What did you say your name was?"
"I didn't say. But, uh, it's Gwen." He stood and held out his right hand for me to shake, which I did. My stomach was doing flip-flop's in my stomach, and I was pretty sure I was about to pass out. "Hey, can I sit down?" I said faintly. George nodded, and I basically collapsed on the bed across from Paul and Ringo, next to the chairs where John and George were sitting.
There was about five minutes of silence as the five of us did nothing but stare at each other. Finally, Paul asked, "What year did you come from, then? That is," he added hastily, "if you are a time traveller." I removed my plaid shirt to show them their faces on my Beatles shirt underneath.
"Well, I'm from two thousand fifteen, and I'm eighteen years old. This, um," I glanced down at my shirt, "this is the cover of your Rubber Soul album from... nineteen sixty five, I think?" I glanced at John. "It is sixty four right now, right?" He nodded. I looked down at my hands, realizing that I still held the locket. I held it up to eye level, and scrutinized it.
"I think," I said slowly, "that this is the thing that sent me here..."
Ridley: Cheesy and full of fluff, I know. Hopefully better as the story goes on... Anyway, should there be a romance in this? The only one I would write her with would be George, but I feel that romance with the Beatles and OC's is a bit overdone? Idk, just let me know.
Dragon: Please tell her. She might even make the story good.
Ridley: Yeah, into the pit with you.
Dragon: Whatever. Review, please!