digapygmy

Short hiatus.

2008-06-12T04:05:55Z

To my readers,

I'm taking a short hiatus from posting here, because it seems as though my Beatles muse is kind of burn-out as of this moment. I WILL BE CONTINUING THIS, SO DON'T WORRY. It just might be a couple of weeks before I update.

Thanks,
Jasmine.

Haven't Slept A Wink-- Part 5

2008-06-04T21:53:49Z

Haven't Slept A Wink -- Part 5
Many roads can take you there, many different ways.

     The boys were soon finished smoking, and Judith gratefully tossed the ashes and stubs into the waste basket; never to be seen again. She could not help the feeling of guilt that dragged and clawed at her mind at letting them smoke, but in her heart she knew that she could not stop them. Then all four would begin suspecting that something was up, and then she would have to explain what would happen later. Probably not the best idea.
     Judith returned to the sitting room, where the lingering feeling of gloom that hung in the air mingled with the haze of leftover smoke. Judith glanced at the clock on the mantle above the fireplace. Its face read about noon. The sun poured through the slats in the windows, creating a bright pattern across the carpeted floor and reminding Judith that London and the world still existed, even after what had occurred that morning.
     "So...what can we find to do to keep ourselves occupied while we wait for Xergicon?" Paul's voice brought Judith back down to Earth.
     "More like find something to do to keep ourselves from going mad," George remarked.
     "Why not both?" Judith replied.
     "Paul, you're making it sound like we'll only be here a few hours," John said, his eyes and voice not at all sociable.
     "We might only be here a few hours. You don't know how long this'll take," Paul shot back.
     "Exactly. You don't know how long this will take," John replied. Paul glared at him.
     Lovely. Bloody fantastic. Just what I need: a Beatle brawl in my apartment, Judith thought as she watched Paul and John bickering. Things didn't go any further than that, but both glowered at each other from across the room. There was a few moment's silence, until George spoke.
     "So, if this does take more than a few hours, are we living with you?"
     "Yes, I suppose. I've got room, and it might not be good if you four try to find somewhere else to stay. You could be recognized, and our whole plan would be ruined," Judith replied. "So, it's definitely best if you lot stay here."
     "So, when does your boyfriend get back from..." Paul began, changing the subject.
     "Germany. And he's coming home from visiting family on the twenty third," Judith answered with a small smile. It was obvious that Paul was trying to keep her comfortable by stimulating conversation, and she was grateful to him for it.
     "Well, let's hope we've gone back by then," he said, his warm eyes on Judith's. Her stomach fluttered slightly when he smiled, causing a slight warmth in her cheeks. Judith hoped it didn't show. She wanted to keep the conversation going, and mentioned something she hoped would get the others talking.
     "What songs are you all working on right now?"
     "Well, there's one of John's that we haven't got a title for," Paul answered, his thoughts traveling back to the previous night. He remembered the others' faces as he stormed out. Judith noticed the change in mood and changed tack fast as lightning.
     "What about you, George? Have you got any songs?" she asked quickly. It was evident that George had been listening vaguely, but his mind hadn't been at full attention. He looked up to find Judith's inquiring dark eyes on him.
     "Erm, I started a couple in India that I'm still working on, and I've got a few finished ones," he answered. It seemed to him that Judith was genuinely interested, but it was also obvious to George that she and Paul were trying to make things more bearable. It is like Paul to try to be cheery even in this situation, he thought. it was both good of him and slightly annoying at the same time.
     "Yeah, I've heard that quite a few songs were written in Rishikesh," Judith said. "Quite a few of my favorites ones, too."
     "Oh? Which ones are those, then?" John seemed to perk up at a chance to test Judith's knowledge of Beatle facts.
     "'Dear Prudence', for one," Judith said. John looked slightly impressed. "I know how that song came about, too."
     "How?" he asked, now looking very interested.
     "Well, Prudence Farrow hid away in her room at the Maharishi's ashram, and you played to her to get her to come out," Judith with a wave of her hand, as if this was a piece of information that everyone on earth should know.
     "What else do you know about us?" Paul asked playfully. Judith shrugged.
     "Everything there is to know, I guess."
     The four looked at her rather quizzically, and began grilling her on various occurrences in the Beatles' history; from the Hamburg days to the height of Beatlemania. Judith proceeded to answer nearly each question correctly.
     "You're mad," Ringo concluded with a grin after the trivia session. Judith noted with some satisfaction that it had been the first time Ringo had smiled since the Beatles' arrival.
     "Maybe," Judith replied with a shrug.
     "Hey Judith, where's the loo?" John asked.
     "Right there down the hall on your left," Judith replied. "Is everyone sure that they don't want anything to eat or drink?"
     George nodded, while Ringo and Paul agreed that it had been awhile since they had eaten. Judith looked through the kitchen, and realized a bit late that there wasn't much in the house to eat. The fridge was nearly empty.
     "What about beans on toast?" Judith asked them.
     "Fine," everyone but George replied.
     "And to drink?"
     "What have you got?"
     "Tea, milk, and water."
     "Milk for me," Ringo said, and the others agreed. Judith fixed the food in a matter of minutes, poured their milk, and placed the plates in front of them. They began tucking in eagerly.
     I'm going to need to go out for some food if I'm going to have four men living in my apartment, Judith thought. But would everything be OK if I left them here alone? Judith supposed so, they couldn't get into that much trouble without her, could they?
     George sat with the other three, but judging from his distant demeanor and drained, pale face, he was very far away in his mind. He looked like he needed to eat, but Judith thought it likely that he was so worked up that he couldn't stomach anything. She felt a deep sympathy for him, and touched him on the shoulder.
     "Can I talk to you?" she asked him, looking him in the eyes. He nodded, and they went to the hallway where they were out of sight from the other three.
     "Are you going to be alright?" Judith asked as soon as they were out of sight. "I know that I just met you a few hours ago, but I somehow feel responsible for what's happened, and I want to make sure you're OK."
    "No, it wasn't you. I have no idea what caused this to happen, but it wasn't you," George said, his eyes sincere. "I'll be fine. I guess I'm just...in shock, you know?"
     "How could you not be?" Judith replied. "I have no idea how...how horrible this is for you. For all of you. But know that all of you have my sympathy."
     "And you have our sympathy. You're going to have to deal with us for awhile, it looks like," George quipped, and Judith saw a brief glimpse of the handsome, lopsided grin that she so loved. A sense of relief washed over her as she realized that he had felt at least comfortable enough to joke around.
     Judith smiled. "Well, if you ever need anything, tell me. As one of your humble fans, I offer my full service. Your wish is my command," she said, with a mock bow.
     "How about a cup of tea to start?" he said with another smile. It was the type that began at the corner of his mouth and lit up his eyes, but only for a brief moment, until Judith wasn't entirely sure that she had seen it at all.
     "Of course," Judith replied, and led the way back to the kitchen, unable to hide the new redness in her cheeks.

Haven't Slept A Wink -- Part 4

2008-06-02T23:45:41Z

Haven't Slept A Wink -- Part 4
Your outside is in, when your inside is out.

     "I need a smoke.”

      John rubbed his face wearily and glanced at his band mates.
     “Anyone got a cigarette?” he asked. Paul, George, and Ringo shook their heads, all of them looking almost mournful at this fact.
     “Hey, Judy. Got any ciggies?”
     Judith didn’t answer immediately. The large silence that had extended for the past few minutes had given her a brilliant opportunity to gather her thoughts somewhat. After trying and failing to wrap her mind around her current situation, she had taken to coming up with ideas to make herself useful to her visitors. Of course, she was grateful to have an excuse to leave the icy, unsettling quiet of the sitting room.
     “Yeah. I’ll go get them,” she replied without meeting any of their eyes, although she could feel at least one pair of eyes follow her around the corner. She remembered the part of a carton that Will had left in the closet before he had left to see his family in Germany. He had decided to quit smoking before he left, but had kept the carton around in case his withdrawal effects were too much for him. They were in the closet by the front door. Judith paused as her hand reached for the doorknob. She heard the muffled sound of voices. Judith then considered whether or not there was an ulterior motive for getting her out of the room. One voice, it sounded like Ringo’s, became slightly louder.

      “…we really not do anything about this? We just have to stay here, not knowing what’s going on at home?”
      “Is there really anything else we can do?” Paul replied. “We just have to try not to be too much trouble. Besides, there’s a chance we could go back tomorrow.”
      “Sure. And everything will be the same as it was before, is that what you’re saying?” That might be George, Judith thought as she grabbed the cigarettes and made her way back to the sitting room, lest they think she was eavesdropping... even though she was.

       Judith tossed what was left of the carton to John, who nodded his thanks and took out a packet. She retrieved an ashtray and a lighter and placed them on the coffee table. She then turned away and tried to make herself look busy. There was no way that she could watch them smoke; especially knowing what would happen to George later. Her heart sank deep into her stomach at the thought, but she tried her best to ignore it and find something to occupy herself and get her away from the sitting room at the same time. Wow. My favorite musicians have just magically appeared, and I'm busy trying to stay away from them. She wanted to laugh, but found she couldn't. Her brain just seemed crammed with so much information that she could only focus on one thing at a time.
       Judith decided to make some tea, but the phone rang, making her jump almost a mile out of her skin. Breathe, she told herself as she reached over and grabbed the telephone.
       "Hello?"
       "Judith? How are you, honey?"
       "Oh, hi mum," she said, trying to disguise the anxiety in her voice. "What is it?"
There was a pause.
       "You don't sound thrilled to have me call you."
       "Oh no, don't take it that way. I'm just sort of busy right now." Sort of busy. Hah.
       "Oh, dear. I was hoping that you could come shopping with me. I'm still looking for a present for Laura's baby shower, you know."
       "Yes, I remember. I just don't think I can do it right now."
       "Are you sure? It won't take long. I know exactly what I want to get her. I saw some adorable little baby jumpers in a shop the other day that I knew she'd love. And with that gift basket Jeff is planning to give her--"
       "Yes, mum, I'm sure. I've got company over."
       "Company? Who are they?"
       "Just some friends I met at the club," Judith lied.
       "Well, maybe we could do it after they leave. They won't be over there much longer, will they?" Judith sighed, wishing her mother's blatant discourtesy was a little less obvious.
      "I don't know, mum. I'll call you when they've left."
Judith heard a long sigh on her mother's end.
       "Alright. I'll see you later, dear." As Judith placed the phone back on its receiver, she could feel the animosity for her mother begin inside of her, as it often did whenever they spoke. For the past few years, their relationship had been growing more and more strained. It seemed to have started right after Judith moved in with Will during March of 2005 a few months after they had met, of all places, at a Beatles tribute band concert. Her mother had been shocked to know that her twenty-year-old daughter was living with who she thought was a complete stranger. Of course, the two weren't strangers at all. They seemed to be a perfect match from the beginning , and had been perfectly happy since. Even so, Judith's mother could not stop hinting to the both of them that she did not approve. She had even gone far enough to try to set Judith up with someone else while living with Will. From that point on, Judith tried to avoid speaking with her mother as much as possible. Life with Will just seemed so much easier without her.
     Judith dared to go back to the sitting room then. Unfortunately, all four of them had started on a second cigarette.
     "Would anyone like anything to eat or drink while I'm up?" Judith asked. Four heads shook in a 'no.' Deciding that she wanted some tea for herself, Judith turned to go back to the kitchen. John's voice caused her to turn back around.
     " 'Just some friends I met at the club', eh?" John said slyly, taking a long drag.
     "Well, what would you have me say? 'No, I can't go shopping with you today Mum, my favorite band has traveled forty years into the future and I have to try and alter the course of history?"
     John shrugged, and Paul chuckled. God, why do they all have to look so sexy when they're smoking? Judith thought. She glanced over at George, who seemed to be staring into space. Judith watched him bring the cigarette to his mouth and inhale deeply. His lips then parted slightly, causing spirals of smoke to catch on the air and float lazily upward. It was both lovely and horrible to watch.
     "Is something wrong?" he asked, and Judith snapped out of her trance. George looked at her for a few moments, his expression unreadable. He then reached over to the ashtray and stubbed out his less than half-way finished cigarette, looking at Judith all the time. She didn't know what to make of this, so she tried to think up something to say to get some conversation going. Slowly, something came to her.
     "I wonder why I wasn't sent back to 1968 instead of you four coming here."
     John and Ringo shrugged, while Paul looked at her.
    "Well, you wouldn't have as much control if you were there instead of us being here," Paul said. "Since we're here, we have no choice but to trust you, because we have no idea what's going on. Does that make sense?"
     "Yeah, I guess," Judith said. She had never thought of it that way. She glanced over at George, who still looked perturbed about something. John looked like he was deep in thought. Suddenly, his eyes became wide; as though he had just had an epiphany.
    "I know how we can know what's going on at home," John said. Judith and the others turned to look at him.
     "How?"
     "Well, wouldn't history change if we suddenly disappeared?" he asked. Judith thought for a moment.
     "I suppose so," she answered.
     "So, do you remember anything out of the ordinary about us?"
     "I don't know what you mean," Judith replied. The others looked just as perplexed.
     "Do you remember reading or hearing anything about the band that's different than what is supposed to happen to us?" John elaborated. Ringo was catching on.
     "Yeah, do you remember ever hearing stories about us disappearing in 1968?" Ringo asked.
     "I'm still not sure that I understand what you're asking."
     "Look, just think back to everything you've ever heard or read or seen about the band. Do you remember hearing anything about disappearances?" Ringo asked. Judith searched her brain.
     "No. Everything's the same as it was before you guys got here," she replied. Paul's face lit up with understanding.
     "So, does that mean that everything turns out alright in the end?" he asked anxiously. Everyone looked around at each other.
     "It might be hard to say, Paul," Judith answered. But this realization did seem to make their situation seem a little more bearable.

     At least, for a little while.

Haven't Slept A Wink -- Part 3

2008-06-01T22:55:41Z

Haven't Slept A Wink -- Part 3
Yes it is, it's true.

     While Judith was contemplating how she could possibly break the news to the Boys, something popped into her head.
     “Did any of you have any peculiar dreams last night?” she asked, looking at them all curiously.
     “Dreams?” Paul lifted his head from his hands, and Jude noticed that the skin around his large brown eyes was rather red and puffy. “What do dreams have to do with anything?”
     “She said she’d had a weird dream about us last night, remember?” Ringo interjected at last.
     “Look, however we got here, there’s no way that some fan having a dream would suddenly transport us through time. There’s no way,” George argued, ever the logical thinker. “There has to be a real reason for us being here.”
     “It was more than that,” Judith said, almost to herself. She searched her mind again, looking for hints that had perhaps been overlooked. Nothing. She sighed and pressed her fingers on her eyes, and felt the effect of a bad night’s sleep taking hold of her body. She could feel a headache coming on, and her arms and legs felt heavy and awkward. What have I gotten myself into? Or, rather, what did Xergicon get her into? Wait! Xergicon. Jude bit her lip and glanced around at the four extremely distressed men that sat around her. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and braced herself for what might happen.
     “Xergicon?”

     John cursed loudly, and Ringo fell backwards into a full faint. Only the magical aura of the white nothingness kept him from hitting the ground and causing any possible damage. George and Paul jumped up from the couch, and yelped when they realized that they weren’t sitting on the couch at all. Empty space filled the place where the couch had been.
     “You called?” the faceless figure materialized out of nowhere a few feet in front of John, who leaped a few feet backwards.
     “HOLY—” John’s mouth began to form a swear word, but his mouth seemed to stop working. He appeared to be shouting, but not a sound came from his lips. He stood there stunned for a moment, then tried speaking again. Nothing. Judith looked inquisitively at Xergicon, who seemed to have a grin of amusement on its face. John stood there utterly bewildered, and the being repeated its inquiry.
     “Is there something you needed?”
     “Erm…yeah. We—” Judith began, but she was interrupted.
     “You’ve got something to do with all this, have you?” George asked fearfully, but his smoldering eyes demanded the truth. Xergicon considered him for a moment, disdain obvious on the featureless face.
     “Yes. Is that a problem?” it asked innocently as George’s disbelieving eyes searched its crisp, definite form.
     “We want to know why we’ve been sent to the future,” George said, disregarding the being’s inquiry. “Why did you do this to us?”
     “I’m afraid I can’t answer that,” Xergicon stated as though on autopilot. “Judith will have to explain that to you. She was the one the committee chose, after all.”
     “What committee?” Paul asked, emerging from his stupor at last. “So this was all planned?”
     “Of course it was planned. Do you think we’d just dropped you thirty-nine years into the future for a lark?” Paul supposed this made a small bit of sense. He glanced over at Judith, who was ashen-faced and still. George bit his lower lip in uncertainty. How the hell were they going to undo this mess?
     “So…does that mean we’re stuck in the future?” He ventured after a few moments contemplation.
     “I’m afraid so. That is, until Judith has explained to you all you need to know, and the committee has a passage open for you.”
     "A passage?” George blurted out louder than he meant to. The fact that he was not totally in control of his surroundings made him extremely out of sorts.
     “Yes. You cannot travel through the levels of time without a prearranged passage appointment. I suppose I’ll have to make it myself with the committee.”
     George didn’t reply, but glanced over at his four companions. John was still silently brooding, Paul was lost for words, Judith looked uncomfortably grim, and Ringo still lay on the invisible bed of air; completely unconscious.
     “You know what you have to do, I trust?” Xergicon inquired of Judith. She took a deep breath, steadying herself, and nodded. The whiteness seemed to dissolve around them, and the not-so-neat confines of Jude’s apartment came back into view.
      THUD! Everyone turned just in time to see Ringo’s limp body hit the floor, no longer suspended by the mystical white aura. Judith gasped and rushed next to him, kneeling over him anxiously. Paul joined her on the opposite side.
     “Paul, help me get him to the couch,” Jude ordered brusquely. Paul nodded and gently lifted him up, Ringo's head lolling onto his chest and shoulder as he was jostled. Judith held his legs, and they both maneuvered Ringo onto the couch. It was a wonder that they got him there safely. Judith’s hands were shaking the entire time as she realized she was touching a Beatle. Judith dared to feel his forehead, which was slightly clammy.
   “He’s out cold.”
     “Hey, Rings. Ringo?” Paul prodded him, but he didn’t budge. “S’pose he’ll come to before long,” he concluded. He took a seat in the armchair opposite. George had already sat down in the other chair, and John sat cross-legged on the rug. Judith noticed that now all of the Beatles’ eyes (except for Ringo’s) were on her. An involuntary shiver ran straight up her spine. This was not going to be easy.
     “What was that bloke sayin’? About something you had to do?” John spoke warily, as though unsure if his spell of silence had been lifted.
     “I’m not exactly sure how to go about explaining it, John. It’s—It’s really complicated.”
     “We’ve just been transported through time. Could anything be more complicated than this?” George interjected in his disconcerting deadpan. Judith winced inwardly, but she knew that he was right. They needed to know.
     “Well, uh…” she fiddled with a strand of her hair as she always did when she was nervous. She took a shuddering breath, attempting to calm herself. She had to be sure not to slip up. If she did manage to say the wrong thing, she might permanently alter future outcomes; if they hadn’t been altered already. Somehow Judith thought that Marty McFly and Doc Brown had had it a lot easier.
     “Well, that dream I had. I saw you all in the studio. Paul left, I think. That thing was showing me what was going on with you guys. It told me something about how the Beatles were going through a really hard time. Of course, being a fan, I already knew this was true. But, Xergicon went on to say that you were actually breaking up. And…” she took another steadying breath… “you aren’t supposed to officially break up until...” She paused, and bit her lip. John’s eyes hadn’t left her since she had begun talking.
     "Go on," he urged, his voice much softer than it had been previously.
     Judith closed her eyes, and took a deep breath.
      "Until 1970."
     George, Paul, and John's eyes, which had been on her steadily when she said this, now widened in shock. George let out a sigh, and Paul ran a hand quickly through his hair.
     “It had to happen, sometime didn’t it?” Paul said weakly, with a half-hearted smile that didn’t extend to his eyes. An awkward silence prevailed for awhile.
     “And that’s why we were sent?” John asked, not looking completely convinced. “That’s it?”
     “Believe me, you wouldn’t be saying that if you actually knew how much of an influence you were—are to people in the future. You four guys change the world in more ways than you can imagine.”
     George stopped his examination of the carpet to glance up at Judith questioningly.
     “We’re that important, are we?”
     Judith nodded and took a seat on the rug across from John. There was a thoughtful silence for a few minutes, as the three conscious Beatles absorbed the shock of the newfound information. Paul’s eyes remained thoughtfully downcast. 1970, eh? I suppose that’s not too bad considering all the bickering that’s been going on. Just didn’t think it’d actually happen, I guess. An interesting thought came to him. I wonder what our solo albums are like, if we make any. No reason why we wouldn’t, is there? I wonder if they’ll always sound like our Beatle records. Paul glanced over at George, who still looked rather pale and strained and was having thoughts that were not nearly as enthusiastic. It’s a miracle we last that long. I wonder what the ultimate cause was. Money? Disagreements? Both? George bit his lip in concentration. It's weird that we’d have such a big influence over everyone, even forty years later. Wait…forty years? The huge span was almost too much for George to comprehend.
      John’s eyes were glazed over, and he stared straight ahead. Bits and pieces of thought spun wildly in his mind, and ran haphazardly into one another. I wonder if anyone’s noticed back in 1968 that we’ve gone. ‘Course that Xergicon fella seems too clinical to let that happen. I wonder if Yoko’s still around. I wonder if I’m still around.

     The quiet moment was interrupted by a groan from the limp form on the couch. Ringo’s blue eyes fluttered open. For a moment everything seemed hazy and dreamlike, but of course reality had to set in.
     Ringo swore loudly and sighed in exasperation. “I thought this had all been a dream. But it’s real. It’s bloody real.” He tried to sit up, but he felt woozy and lay his head on the armrest once again. Judith fetched a glass of water from the kitchen and handed it to him. He sipped it slowly, and the feeling of nausea weakened slightly.
     “Alright, Rings?” Paul asked from his chair. Ringo managed a slight nod.
     “Where were we? That white place?” he asked, blue eyes widening slightly at the unpleasant memory.
     “I’m not sure, exactly,” Judith said. “That was where I went during the dream.”
     “Are you sure it was a dream?”
     Judith turned to John, whose eyes were on her. “It didn’t have to be a dream. You could’ve just been sort of teleported there, like we were,” he reasoned. “I suppose,” she replied.
     “Would anyone mind telling what happened back there?” Ringo asked, sounding a little more than impatient. George, Paul, and John glanced at him, and then to Judith, who shrugged.
     “Basically, we’ve been transported through time because the Beatles are breaking up two years too early,” John said bluntly, and the little color that had returned to Ringo’s face vanished immediately.
     “How—what?” he sputtered, unable to articulate anything. He looked at Paul for a confirmation of this fact, and Paul nodded, although he still looked just as disbelieving as Ringo.
     “Apparently, I was chosen to break the news to you guys,” Judith elaborated, “but it seems incredibly inefficient. You’d think that whatever ‘committee’ sent you all here could have come up with a better idea for saving the pattern of history.” Paul nodded absentmindedly, hardly taking in anything that was being said. Instead of worrying about how to get back to 1968, Paul’s focus was on the present. Blimey, I wonder what we’re all doing in 2007. Still touring and making albums? Am I married? Am I even still around? Paul brushed away the unpleasant shiver that came at that last thought. He didn’t need to get carried away.
      Ringo continued to look dumbfounded, his mouth hanging slightly open. There was a moment of miserable thought, and Jude despaired. Why me? She glanced at Paul, whose habit of fingernail-chewing came into action. John simply sat there with an overcast look on his face, much like George. Ringo was finally able to sit up, and his mournful sapphire eyes looked more sad than ever.
     “So…are we going to be able to go back?” he asked warily.
     "Not until Xergicon schedules a ‘travel appointment’ for you. And God knows how long that could take,” Judith answered darkly. Ringo swore again and passed his hand over his face wearily.

      What are we going to do? Judith could not help but think. She glanced around helplessly at the four Beatles.

      I guess we just…wait.

Haven't Slept A Wink -- Part 2

2008-06-01T22:21:13Z

Haven't Slept A Wink -- Part 2
I can't conceive of anymore misery...

     Judith scrambled frantically into the kitchen and grabbed a carving knife that hung above the oven. She brandished it in front of her like a dagger as she approached the living room; where the offending intruders had been found. By now the four were standing and alert, and seemed very confused by their surroundings.
     “DON’T MOVE!” Judith shouted, and the four men whipped around. Their eyes widened at the sharp knife that she held in front of her, the point dangerously outwards. Judith’s heartbeat throbbed painfully in her ears, and her muscles were tensed like that of a sprinter at the starting line. Her eyes traveled to each male face, and eerily familiar eyes met hers. I’ve seen these faces so many times… haven’t I? She took in their appearance, and could not believe what she was seeing. They looked just like them.
     “Wh-what are you doing here?” she demanded, although her trembling voice gave away her fear and awe. John glanced at George as though searching for something to say, but George offered no advice. Paul, who stood nearest Judith, spoke. His voice was shaking ever so slightly.
     “We don’t know how we got here. Really. We don’t want to hurt you. We just want to know why we’re here.” Paul willed the girl to lower her knife; he didn’t know whether not she could use it. “Please. Put the knife down.”
      That is Paul’s voice. THAT IS PAUL FREAKING MCCARTNEY’S VOICE! Judith felt the desire to scream, faint, and leap on him all at once. She glanced down at the knife in her hand and realized that never in a million years could she actually have the courage to stab someone with it. She moved to place the knife on the coffee table and her visitors leaped backwards out of her way.
     “Don’t worry, I’m putting it down,” she said as calmly as she could, and placed the lethal object on the table. The Four seemed to relax a little, although they kept their eyes on her every movement.
     “Where are we?” Ringo ventured to ask after a few silent moments. Judith didn’t answer immediately, but let her eyes wander over her arrivals. Paul, she noticed with a surge of electricity, wore nothing but underwear, and stood slightly behind John to hide this fact. John wore regular clothes, although they were wrinkled like he had slept in them. George wore matching green pajama trousers and a button-down shirt, which happened to be unbuttoned. Ringo wore no shirt and long pajama trousers. God, it really is them, isn’t it? Judith watched as George glanced around the room and noticed a Rubber Soul poster hanging on the wall above the sofa.
     “I’m not sure how to tell you where you are. You wouldn’t believe me if I did.”
     “Why wouldn’t we believe you?” George asked urgently. His dark, severe eyebrows furrowed and his eyes demanded an answer. The look on his face and the sound of his voice made Judith's insides feel as though they had been filled with lead.
     “She’s probably some loony fan. She could’ve drugged and gotten us into her house for an orgy,” John suggested. Paul raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. It could be true, after all.
     “I may be a loony fan, but I wouldn’t do that. We’re not all horrible, you know.”
     John, looking more than put out, stepped menacingly toward Judith. He towered over her five-foot-four inch body, and Judith realized with a shock just how angry his eyes could become.
     “Just tell us where the bloody hell we are!” he said menacingly. Judith sighed and turned around to retrieve the newspaper from the day before. She held up the front page in front of John’s eyes and pointed to the date with a slightly trembling finger.
     “June the ninth was yesterday, but the year is still the same. It’s two-thousand and seven,” she said cautiously. John blinked and took the paper from her hands, scrutinizing the date as though he could read beyond the paper and ink. After a few moments John’s face went ghostly white. He turned to the other three, his mouth working soundlessly. Ringo’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head. George’s face turned pale and clammy, and he sat down on the sofa and began muttering. Paul swore loudly and snatched the paper from John’s trembling hand and gazed at the date. Friday, June 9, 2007. The statement was clearly there, in black and white. Paul looked around at the others, as though reaching out for help. He was waiting for someone to denounce the whole situation; say “C’mon! Let’s go home!”. But no one did. The paper fluttered from Paul’s hand and his gaze locked on Judith.
     “How…how did we get here? I-I mean, we just sort of woke up in here when you screamed. I thought I was still in bed for a moment, but…” he trailed off, looking completely lost for words.
     “I’m not sure. I had a dream about you four last night. An alien was talking to me; well, at least I think it was an alien. And he...it was talking about you four.”
     “Why us?” Ringo, who had seemed to be in a daze before, spoke. Judith hesitated. She glanced at George, who was now hugging himself and muttering slightly louder than before. John and Paul simply looked at each other, completely at a loss. And even with such extraordinary company, Judith regretted that she had even had the dream. How could she enjoy finally meeting her heroes when she knew how tormented and miserable they must feel? They just stood there in silence, George having finally stopped his chanting. Judith found herself unable to look at any of her heroes faces, so she looked at down at the cream-colored carpet instead. She listened as John shifted his weight nervously on his feet and as Paul let out a long breath of air, as though he had been holding his breath and wishing to be transported back home.
     John began to pace. Back and forth he went, as though he was searching frantically for something. Ringo sat down next to George and put his face in his hands. And Paul just stood, his face tight-lipped and strained.
     “I’m-I’m so sorry. I…,” Judith tried to form an apology of sorts, but what could she apologize for? None of this was her doing.
      Unwelcome tears began to blur the edges of her vision. Don’t cry, don’t cry. She didn’t want to make things more awkward than they already were by crying. She sat herself in the armchair across from George and Ringo. The silence went on for what seemed like an eternity. Things were so still that Judith jumped when Ringo spoke.
     “What’s your name? We seem stuck with you for the moment, so we might was well know something about you.”
     “I’m Judith, but my good friends call me Jude," she breathed. This had the affect she had wanted it to. Paul emerged from his trance and looked at her inquisitively.
     “Yes, as in your song ‘Hey Jude’,” she said, still fighting hard to bite back her tears. Paul gaped at her open-mouthed for a few seconds.
     “But…we haven’t even recorded that yet. I’ve barely finished it,” Paul stammered.
     “It’s a fairly well-known song now. Even people who aren’t Beatles fans know the words to that one,” Jude intoned. She noticed John’s gaze on her.
     “What else do you know about us? Things that only people from this time would know, I mean,” John asked her, looking anxious and fascinated at the same time. This made George look up from his intent examination of the rug at his feet. He fixed his eyes on Jude, whose cheeks flushed slightly. The man she had lusted for since she was fourteen was sitting directly across from her. It was enough to make her feel woozy.
     “I’m not sure if I should say. I don’t want to accidentally tell you something that hasn’t happened yet. You came from nineteen sixty-eight, right?”
     “How can you tell that?” Ringo asked, his blue eyes widening slightly.
     “Just by the way you look,” Jude said simply. This raised more than one eyebrow among the four, but they said nothing.
     “Today would be the same day as here, June the tenth,” Paul stated. Jude nodded.
     “Well, right now you’re working on an album. And you're ready to rip each other's throats out, right?” George, Ringo, and John all turned to look at Paul.
     “Erm...well,” Paul said, and narrowed his eyes at the other three. There was yet another uncomfortable silence. Jude once again looked Paul over, blushing madly at the sight of Paul in nothing but underwear.
     “Um, Paul, d’you think you’d want some clothes? My boyfriend is out of town, and he left some here in my apartment,” she suggested, averting her eyes slightly from him. She heard a snort from John, and Paul looked down at himself and turned beet red.
     “Sure,” he said, more than a little embarrassed, and followed Jude upstairs to her bedroom. Once inside, Paul felt as though he was being watched. He glanced around the room and noticed the amount of posters that had his own face on them.
     “Does your boyfriend mind all these posters of us around the room?” he asked, trying to break the ice a little.
     “No, he likes the Beatles, too. Just not as much as I do,” she answered as she rummaged through a dresser and then through a closet. A certain poster above the bed caught Paul’s eye and he stepped closer to examine it. There he was, walking across the crosswalk outside Abbey Road. And there were the other three as well. I don’t remember taking this picture. And since when did George have long hair and a beard? Jude found a T-shirt and blue jeans and turned to give them to Paul. Her mouth dropped open in horror as she watched him study the Abbey Road album cover poster.
     “Paul! Don’t look at that!” she shouted, and Paul turned to her.
     “Sorry. Future stuff, eh?” he wore a smirk, but the look on Jude’s face made it slip away quick as a wink.
     “I’m really sorry,” he said. He looked like a child that had been reprimanded by his mother.
     “No, don’t worry about it,” she sighed. “Here, you can put these on out there. Just give me a minute in here, alright?” Paul took the clothes gratefully and nodded. Once he left the room, Jude closed the door and began her mission. She took the Abbey Road poster off the wall, rolled it up lovingly, and put it in her closet. The next things to go inside were her Let It Be and All Things Must Pass albums. Everything before the summer of 1968 was placed inside the closet, away from prying eyes. Can’t risk an unwanted glimpse into the future, she mentally scolded herself. She glanced around the room to make sure there weren’t any other offending items. There was an A Hard Day’s Night poster and a Revolver album, but those weren’t anything to worry about. Satisfied, Jude decided that while she was in her room, she might as well get dressed. She put on an over-sized T-shirt and jeans ran a brush through her unruly hair. Why in the heck am I so calm? The Beatles are in my apartment, she thought to herself, and a shiver of anxiety and delight tickled her all over.

     On returning downstairs, she had expected them to have disappeared. Were they really there? But there they were, George looking like he was deep inside his head, Paul, now fully dressed and sitting next to him. The shirt and jeans were a bit baggy on him, Judith's boyfriend wasn't exactly the thinnest guy around. Ringo now sat in the armchair, looking as though he might be sick. And John, showing no sign of emotion, walked around the apartment, examining things at his leisure. His gaze drifted over the pictures of Jude and her boyfriend Will that hung on the wall. Then the television in the far corner caught his attention.
    “Holy…” his voice drifted off and her stared at it for a moment. “This TV is bloody huge!” Of course, it wasn’t by 2007 standards, but Jude assumed it was huge to him. Her father had told her at length about the tiny-screened, grainy television sets that existed in the sixties. Most families didn’t even have color televisions by 1968.
     “Could we see what’s on?” he asked. John looked at Jude, then at his band mates. Paul and Ringo shrugged, and George didn’t move at all. Then it dawned on her that JOHN LENNON was asking her permission. She nodded, picked up the remote control, and hit the ‘power’ button. The screen flashed on, and the blaring voice of a male commercial announcer filled the room. Jude turned down the volume and searched through the channels. Nothing really interesting to her was on, so she gave the remote to John. It took him a few minutes to figure out all of the buttons, but he was soon navigating the channels with ease. Every few channels, exclamations of surprise and wonder could be heard. “This is fantastic!” “Blimey!” “What’s that?” Paul and Ringo were also entranced by the screen, but seemed slightly detached from their surroundings. George barely glanced at the television, instead lost within himself. Jude longed to ask him what the matter was, but she could feel unwelcome vibes coming from him and said nothing.
     So things continued for what seemed like an eternity. Eventually, John’s interjections of wonderment were silenced and he seemed bored. Paul sat with his chin in his hand. Ringo’s blue eyes seemed sadder than ever, and he still looked slightly sick. George sat cross-legged, as he had been since he first sat down. Jude noted the glazed look in his eyes. He looked entirely blank on the outside, but inside he was brimming with questions. What are we doing here? What is the significance of this? Is it all a dream? Are we really here? How are we going to get home? Why aren’t we trying to go back? This final question hit George like a hammer. Are we ever going to get back? His mind filled with anguish and unwelcome thoughts. Pattie would never see him again, the press would get wind of their disappearance. George longed to yell, shout, ask why. It seemed as though the space within his mind was not spacious enough to keep the misery inside. Finally, the torment he was feeling couldn't be contained.

     "What did we do to deserve this?" George asked, his voice betraying what was going on inside his head. Judith was shaken when she saw that George looked like he might cry. "How in the hell are we going to get back? What if we can't find a way? Everyone back home is going to think that we've died..." his voice drifted off as he passed his hands over his face. Ringo just sat as a stone sits, unmoving and deathly quiet. John turned to him and locked his severe gaze on him, silently agreeing but not saying a word. Paul looked at George with an unreadable expression. He hadn't thought of what everyone might think, but it made sense. It would become the greatest mystery of the twentieth century. Paul could see everything in his mind: newspapers with the headline "THE BEATLES: GONE FOREVER?"

     Judith's brain began working in overdrive. What exactly had Xergicon said the night before?

     She remembered. The task. She suddenly felt helpless. How in the world could she tell the Beatles about their break up? It seemed much too risky. Anything could go wrong.

     But she knew she had to tell them. Somehow, she had to tell them.

Haven't Slept A Wink -- Part 1

2008-06-01T03:24:06Z

Haven't Slept A Wink -- Part 1
Was it just a dream?

“What’re you talking about?”

     Paul stood, visibly bristling, as John glared at him through round wire-rimmed glasses.

     “Your part is off,” John repeated, wearing an almost amused smirk. Paul’s eyebrows furrowed and he ran a hand through his hair in exasperation.

     “Let’s see you do it, then,” he said, trying hard not to sound annoyed. John picked up his guitar and obliged, while Paul listened, deeply chagrined. The mood in Studio 2, Abbey Road had been worsening over the past few weeks. Recording for what would become the White Album was beginning to become extremely painful, and John and Paul being at each other’s throats was not helping matters. George, watching the row with benign distaste, sat cross-legged in a chair and tuned his guitar absent-mindedly. Ringo was at his kit, lighting up a cigarette, trying to tune out the impending argument. The voice of George Martin floated down from the control room.

     “Shall we try that again, John? I think it would be better if we had one more take.”

     “Yeah,” John said, but his focus had momentarily strayed to a certain woman that sat on the amplifier next to him. Yoko smiled slightly as John whispered something into her ear. Her face lit up in surprise, and she covered her mouth with her hand and giggled. Paul sighed and adjusted his guitar strap’s position on his right shoulder.

     Mr. Martin's voice once again made itself known. “Alright…take seventeen.” George uncrossed his legs and tested his guitar’s sound. Deciding it was properly tuned, he readied for the beginning of the song. Ringo nodded and took up his sticks. John adjusted the microphone slightly before counting off…

Hey, Bungalow Bill
What did you kill
Bungalow Bill?

He went out tiger hunting with his elephant and gun
In case of accidents he always took his mom—

     John stopped abruptly and glanced at Paul. “Bloody hell, Paul, what are you playing?” George swore inwardly at the outburst and ran both of his hands through his hair. Paul quickly became red-faced with anger and embarrassment, and threw up his hands in surrender.
“Look, I’m doing what I can. Just play the damned part yourself or let George play it if you’re that worried about it.” Paul then put down his guitar, picked up his coat, and disappeared from the studio. His three mates watched him go, then blinked at each other in disbelief.

     “I guess that’s enough for tonight,” Martin intoned wearily over the speaker. “We obviously won’t get anything more done.”

*

     Paul strode out of the front door of the studio into the warm night, guessing it was about one o’clock. He hadn’t looked at a clock since they had arrived to work that evening. He found his parked car and got into it, still fuming and repeating numerous obscenities in his mind. He was so absorbed in his dark thoughts that he ran a red light, causing a gruff-looking man to give him the two-fingered salute. Paul returned the gesture and continued on his way.
     Paul considered leaving the group. He had done so many times before, and was fairly sure the others had thought about it, too. How could they not have, with all of the tension that was going around? Geoff Emerick, their recording engineer, had already quit because of it. He didn't exactly say why, but Paul knew from the time he left that it was their fault. Paul sighed as he pulled up to 7 Cavendish Avenue. A few determined gatebirds stood vigil outside the large house.

     “Up a bit late, aren’t you?” Paul asked the three girls, failing horrendously to sound cheerful.
     “We’ve only been here a few hours,” a tall blond girl chirped. The brunette that stood next to her was flushed brightly with pleasure and looked as though she might leap onto her idol that stood but a few feet from her.
     “Really, you shouldn’t stand out here this late,” Paul said, almost unable to stifle a yawn. He bade farewell to the gatebirds and trudged inside only to be greeted by a large, fluffy hyperactive creature named Martha. The behemoth of a dog leaped onto him, pinning him to the door with her massive paws.
     “I don’t need this right now, alright?” Paul pointed sternly to the floor, and Martha sat, looking extremely miffed that Paul’s arrival had not been accompanied with that of a biscuit. Paul made his way up the stairs and into his bedroom, realizing for the first time how exhausted he was. He flopped onto the side of his bed, taking off his clothes and thinking about what had occurred at the studio. Why does John have to be such a prick? And George just sits there brooding. I wish he’d actually come right out and yell at me. At least I’d know where we stand. Ringo doesn’t say it, but I know that he hates what’s going on as much as I do. He’s just trying to keep things stable since he almost left the group for good. Paul, finally undressed except for his underwear, got comfortable under the covers and turned out his bedside lamp. He tried to turn off his mind as well, but thoughts kept waltzing in and out of his conscious and he couldn’t drift off. After about forty-five minutes of tossing and turning, Paul finally slipped into a half-sleep.

London, England. June 10, 2007. 4:43 AM.

     Judith Garrott opened the door to her apartment, unable to believe how late her boss Mr. Chambers had made her work that night. Of course, it was a night shift at a club, but it was almost five in the morning! Judith didn’t bother to hang up her jacket, she let it fall to the floor. She put her purse on the kitchen counter and made her way sluggishly to her bedroom. Still in a daze of exhaustion and fatigue, she took a shower, got into her pyjamas, and fell gratefully into bed. Judith sighed with contentment as the warm sheets helped her to drift slowly into sleep.

     Judith’s bedroom disappeared in a haze, and a blank whiteness burned into her retinas. Everything is just so…white, she thought. It was the most pure and light thing Judith had ever beheld. As she got used to her dream surroundings, Judith realized she was lying on air. Well, at least it looked like air. Judith stood up and examined what she had been resting on. Nothing. She placed her hand where she thought the bed should be, and felt only air. Utterly perplexed, Judith glanced around. The whiteness had become more bearable now, and a figure was distinguishable. The being, definitely human-like and genderless from what Judith could tell, was approaching her. As it neared, the being seemed to come abruptly into focus. Except around the outline of the figure, which remained blurry and indecipherable against the whiteness. The figure, like the room, was virtually unadorned except for a toga-like robe that was wrapped around it. It seemed to have no eyes, nose, or mouth; and yet a voice issued from the exact spot where the mouth would be.
     “Dull, isn’t it? I told them that the tone for this room was much too drab. Don’t you agree?”
     “No, I like it. It’s very unique.”
The creature sat on what seemed to be an invisible chair.
     “Why is it that in this world you can sit on nothing and still be held up?” Judith asked, looking around.
     “It is because, Judith, we are nothing. And since we are nothing, nothing should be able to hold us up,” the being answered wisely.
     “I think I understand,” Judith replied. “Who are you?”
     “I am Xergicon, the Keeper of Time. I control Time and everything within its boundaries.”
     “Do you know why I’m here?” Judith asked, realizing that she had no idea how she had gotten into the vast blankness.
     “You are here because you have been summoned.”
   “Summoned? By whom?”
     “Me, of course.”
     “Oh. Why would you summon me?”
     “Because I have a task for you.” Xergicon, although it did not seem to have a mouth, gave off what was presumably a smile. It stood, and Judith did so as well. They walked a few paces, and Xergicon stood for a moment. Then, it lifted a long-fingered hand and pressed an invisible button. For a moment, nothing happened. Judith looked up at Xergicon for some hint of a mistake, but the creature gave nothing away. When Judith looked forward again, a screen had materialized out of nothing. The screen was very much like that of a television screen, except the images were sharp and detailed. Judith watched in detached wonderment as a screeching gang of flying monkeys tore across a cloudy sky.
     “Oops. Wrong channel,” Xergicon chuckled and pressed yet another invisible button. The screen changed, and showed a completely different scene. It was an aerial view of a large room, with a few people gathered inside. Upon closer inspection, five people sat in a sort of circle, all but two holding guitars. One person without a guitar held nothing, and the other sat at a drum kit. Judith let in a sharp intake of breath as she watched and heard the goings on within the room. My God…this can’t be who I think it is. Judith’s mouth hung slightly open in disbelief as she watched the men who had enriched her twenty-two years of life; not only with music, but with inspiration. She heard Paul’s angry voice and watched as he stormed out of the studio. This has to be a dream. It must be. Wait a moment! It was a dream. Judith distinctly remembered crawling wearily into bed. Judith laughed silently at herself for actually believing what had been thrust before her eyes. It was all a dream. None of this was real.
     “I see you are surprised. Do you not wonder at what is in store for you?” Xergicon asked, its voice giving away no hint of what was to follow. Judith played along with the game.
     “Well, I suppose I was sort of curious.”
     “Of course you are. You see, the Beatles are in a very dangerous point in their career. They are beginning to break up. Of course at this point in their lives, it is only nineteen-sixty-eight. They will not officially break up until nineteen-seventy. That is where you come in.” Judith looked at Xergicon blankly for a moment.
     "What?"
     "Basically, you have to prevent them from breaking up before nineteen-seventy."
     “Why am I involved in this in the first place? Why not someone else?” Judith furrowed her eyebrows for effect.
     “Because the Agency for Earthly Affairs believes that you were the best candidate for the job. There were many factors to consider; some of them being age, personality, intelligence, patience, knowledge, awareness, and stability. We all agreed that you would be the best choice.”
     Judith looked blankly at Xergicon for a moment. If only this dream would last a little longer. For years and years she had thought about how wonderful it would be to meet them. Maybe to travel back in time to 1964, go back to the height of Beatlemania and see it first hand. Of course, the dream would end when she woke up; which would probably be any moment now. Dream Judith sighed and looked up at the creature.
     “Are you not happy with this engagement?” Xergicon inquired, looking as concerned as someone could when they didn’t have a face.
     “Oh no, quite the contrary. I’m really excited!” Judith insisted.
     “Splendid! I will have everything ready at once. Once they arrive, you must not let them out of the designated area without my permission. You may contact me at any time.” The creature faded from sight, as did the now blank television screen and the just as blank room.
    Judith felt the familiar warmth of her bed and opened her eyes. The usual feeling of stiffness followed her out of bed and into the bathroom. She glanced into the mirror before getting ready and realized that she hadn’t brushed her teeth last night. Judith sighed and ran her fingers quickly through her hair. Don’t feel like brushing it, as usual.
     After brushing her teeth and washing her face, Judith made her way drowsily down the stairs to get a cup of coffee.

     Judith stopped moving right before her bare foot touched the bottom step. She kept her foot in mid-air and her mouth wide open in horror. She looked as though frozen for a moment, then her hands flew to her face and she screamed.

Haven't Slept A Wink -- Chapter List

2008-06-01T03:10:42Z

This story, originally called "All Together Now", was begun awhile back, and I lost interest in it. I'm going to try to continue it, along with three other writing projects hatching in my brain. ~~(Oy vey.)~~

Ahem. Try being the key word here, folks. So, I'm going to do a bit of editing to the old chapters and post them here, and try my hardest to keep writing and update as much as possible. Wish me luck!

Haven't Slept A Wink
Plot: Judith Garrott has no idea what she's in for when she is chosen for a task involving the greatest band of all time. Can she do what is required and still prevent history from going haywire?
Rating: PG -- PG-13. For mild language.

1. Part One
2. Part Two
3. Part Three
4. Part Four
5. Part Five