I am sitting on the shore, with my nose on a book, the sun shining its rays on my face. Laughter is ringing in my ears from the other beach goers and waves are kissing the coast. Suddenly, girls start to squeal everywhere. Boys stood up abruptly. I look up and see heads turning to someone, something, behind me. A small crowd of people and paparazzi began to form around this 'thing', but some men are pushing them away from 'it'. In the midst of them, I see a brown head. Then another. Then a third, a fourth, all bearing the same hairstyle. They are all wearing striped swimming suits. One of them is a bit shorter than the rest and is twiddling with a straw hat. Two of them are walking side by side, laughing at some humor known only to them. Another, a very skinny boy, quietly follows behind while smiling at everyone who meets his gaze.
I put my book down on the sand and release a sigh. The screams and shouts are breaking my concentration. Undoubtedly, they are The Beatles. I mean, come on. Who wouldn't know who they are? It's 1963, and they are a pretty big hit here in England already. Every one of the girls in my school go crazy over them. Everyone except me. I don't see what they seem to see in them. Okay, I do admit that they are a bit good looking. I have also heard a few of their songs down in The Cavern a few times. I go there for the jazz, but every now and then these four pop up instead. It's a waste of my time and money, really.
I continue to sit on my blanket on the beach for a few more hours, trying to comprehend what my book says while chaos goes on behind me. So many people! So much noise! I probably sunk in my book eventually because the next time I look up, the sky is beginning to turn into an indigo hue. The sun isn't in my face anymore but rather in my back. I suddenly hear the silence; no more annoying squeals and camera clicks. I slowly gather my things around me. As I reach for my book, a huge bird flies down and grabs it from my fingers.
The bird is flying away but is losing altitude every few moments. The book must be weighing it down; it's my most cherished book given to me by my grandmother, Little Women.
I jump to my feet and start to run towards it as fast as my nineteen-year old legs can carry me. I try to reach it, but my height is below the normal range. I'm not looking where I'm running but suddenly, the wind gets knocked from my chest, and my face says hello to the sand.
My eyes open and I see a pair of feet in front of me. I follow it up to the face of its owner. Legs. Very thin, almost malnourished-looking. A red stripe. A green one. Is it Christmas? I see my book in one of the hands. Calloused yet delicate hands. Seems like those hands are always busy working overtime. Small, built shoulders. A tiny smile. Deep, brown eyes. It is one of The Beatles.
"You alright?" this Beatle says to me in a thick accent. I can't quite remember who this one is; I think one of the girls in my school says it's "Paul" or "Ringo" or something...ew, who would name a son "Ringo"?
"Yes, thank you," I reply to him. He holds out a hand to help me up. I decline his offer and stand up myself. I snatch the book from his grasp, give him a little nod, and stomp over to where my belongings are.
I quickly gather them and am about to leave when a tap on my shoulder makes me turn around. Ugh, it's him again.
"You're welcome," he says in that tongue of his. He smiles to me again, this time bigger. My eyes set on his huge teeth. I turn around again to exit but he stops me again, saying, "That's one of me mum's favorites when she was growin' up." He points to my book. He smiles that teethy smile again.
"Oh...really?" I say back, my respect for him growing a little bit at the mention of my favorite book.
He doesn't say anything back this time. His smile minimizes to a small one, and his gaze lowers. We awkwardly stand there for a few moments. I start to leave again when he suddenly says, "My name's George. George Harrison. What's yours?"
I reply, "Patricia. But you can call me Pattie."
If you've made it this far, thanks so much for reading that :) I truly appreciate it. Please tell me what you think and if I should continue it or make one from George's point of view. Obviously, this isn't how Pattie and George met; I am just creating a fanfiction. Again, thanks for visiting my blog and reading my short story!
