When Arthur heard the news he found that the world around him had stolen him of all his breath. His heart fluttered helplessly in his chest like a bird with a broken wing. He swallowed thickly- it felt as if his throat was slowly closing- and his voice came out trembling and desperate, desperate that the news may have somehow been false. "What… what do you mean… dead?" The word tasted bitter and musty as it left his lips.

"It happened last night in front of his New York City apartment. He was shot twice in the back right before his wife's eyes." The room was spinning, his legs were swaying. Was this really happening? It couldn't be. This all had to be some kind of sick twisted dream. Maybe he had eaten one too many chocolate biscuits before bed. Yes that was it because men that peaceful couldn't leave this world in such a violent manner. "The New York police have identified the man as Mark David Chapman, an American man hailing from Texas…" Everything after that was nothing but muffled noise in Arthur's ears. He couldn't bear to hear anymore lest his heart break further. Still one word echoed in his ears like the whispering hiss of Satan the snake to Eve in the Garden of Eden.

American… American… American….

It was an American man that had killed John Lennon on the eve of December 8, 1980 and it was a day Arthur would never forget and wouldn't forgive at least not for a long time.

Arthur laid back on his couch as soon as he returned home and just stared at the ceiling as he absent mindedly mouthed the words to the Beatles album he had humming in the background. He had been an avid fan of the Beatles ever since the boys with the suits and bowl cuts had made their first debut from Liverpool. He had followed their music, concerts, and fads religiously and bolted himself up in his room like every other fan when the band broke apart in April of 1970.

He had known John personally as well. He was a marvelous man with a good sense of humor and a heart of gold wanting nothing more than to give peace a chance. Arthur was sure that John wouldn't have the heart to even harm a fly. He was such a wonderful man who gave birth to theory that all you needed in life was love.

Now all of his preaching through music had been wasted when the bullets entered him and brought him to his untimely demise. He was only 40 years of age.

The dull ring of Arthur's telephone pulled him out of the foggy state he had been roaming around in all afternoon. His tried green eyes wandered from the ceiling to the door way of the living room where he could see down the hall and into the kitchen where the phone's cries echoed from. "Come on old boy…" Arthur urged himself as he slowly hauled his lazy arse off the couch and shuffled down the hall in his black socks. His joints seemed to creak and protest as he reached out for the phone and picked it up off the receiver with the same speed as frozen molasses. "… 'Ello…?"

There was no voice for a few moments, just the sounds of a few sniffles as whoever it was on the other end tried to compose themselves. "… Artie…" Arthur knew that voice. There was only one obnoxious fellow in the world that would maul his name like that and call him 'Artie.''

"…Alfred…" Arthur voice sounded sharp in his ears and the word tasted bitter in his mouth.

Alfred hesitated again. Arthur could hear him fiddling with his glasses through the receiver. "I uh… well I… I-I guess you heard what happened…?" He questioned nervously.

"Of course… it's all over the news…" His voice was hollow, completely emotionless, but that only made Alfred feel even more uncomfortable as he listened.

"O-Oh… right… it's a real shame… he was a nice guy…" Alfred replied.

"Yes he was… it was a terrible thing for someone to do…" It was an American. An American man killed John Lennon and here Arthur was talking to America on the phone.

"Yeah it was…" Alfred bit his lower lip. "Look Artie, I'm real sorry about what happened… I really had no idea what was going on, but I… I know it was one of my people and-!" Arthur cut him off short.

"Shut up."

"… A-Artie I…"

"I said shut up." Arthur voice was stern and menacing, slightly off centered teeth gnashing together in his jaw. "You better bloody well listen and you better listen well. I refuse to talk to you. You are not to call me again. Don't approach me. Don't look at me. Don't even breathe my air." Arthur's voice didn't increase in volume, but more and more anger gathered in the undertones like the feeling before a deadly storm. "John Lennon was an innocent man who only believed in love and peace and yet now here he is stone cold and dead. Peaceful men don't deserve to die violently." Arthur slammed the phone down on the receiver without another word and then returned to his couch where he continued to sulk and mouth the words to every Beatles song he knew.

All you need is love… love is all you need….

30 years ago today John Lennon was shot and killed in New York. RIP to one of the greatest song writers and men of all time. /3