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A Beginning

Reality leaves a lot to the imagination.
John Lennon

Anyone who has ever watched the news knows that there is always something bad to report. Obviously, bad news gains more attention than someone just saying ‘everything’s good’ because it is more important and therefore more profitable for the reporter. It is a rather sad way of seeing media, but that would be the way the world works.

No exception can be made to reporting bad news, for obviously people need to know; this would certainly not be one. Today was nothing more than an average, cold November afternoon; nothing major happening. Days like this are the most viable candidates for disasters.

“A sad report coming in just now,” as an average disaster report goes. “Ladies and gentlemen, I regret to inform you that today on November 12th, 2012 at 2:30 P.M., famous musician Paul McCartney, has died in a helicopter crash near his estate in East Essex, England. McCartney was best known for being a member of The Beatles, a rock group from the 1960s and the highest selling band of all time.”

People seem to pass when least expected, and in the oddest of ways. Perhaps that is why some people become so shocked when it happens; though he was at the age of seventy at that year, few people would have guessed that a helicopter crash would be the end.

Indeed, fate itself seems to relish unprecedentedness; throwing the oddest things at us when we least expect them. Good or bad, it is a rather cruel practice of keeping us in the dark. But, as with many things, it is out of our control; some things simply have to happen, whether we see them as good or bad.

“A shocking new report coming in; just hours after Sir Paul McCartney, his former bandmate and Beatle drummer, Ringo Starr, was killed in a car incident. He was the last remaining member of the famous group, with John Lennon being shot in 1980, and George Harrison dying from cancer in 2001.”

That was it; as if taking one was not good enough, or causes enough pain, another was taken, the last one. Just like that, their roads ended here, all at once with no alternative. Just like that, everything was gone, with only a legacy left to remember.

Needless to say, it was devastating; everything just seemed to stop. Losing just one of the remaining Beatles would be a blow, but two in the same day? It was probably the worst catastrophe to strike the industry since the infamous 1959 plane crash that took Holly, Valens, and Richardson; ‘The Day Music Died’ as it was called.

But music was not going to die again now; the four had left their legacy, made their mark. The kind style they had created that kind of Art Rock, and perfecting so many others. Picking up on the pop and skiffle trend, by the end of their time their lyrics alone told stories that could fill a rather thick book. And people noticed this, a lot of people, people who wanted to do something like that one day.

Pink Floyd’s psychedelic, enigmatic song styles were the next level of The Beatle’s psychedelic works. U2 modeled one of their more famous music videos after The Rooftop Concert. Brian Wilson and The Beach Boys went on to make Pet Sounds after hearing Rubber Soul.

Even the more outlandish genres, that at first sight would cause one to put the four as the last possible influence, had some connection. Kurt Cobain of Nirvana wrote ‘About a Girl’ after listening to Meet the Beatles for three hours. The country group Crosby, Stills, and Nash covered Blackbird. Even some of Van Halen, in their childhood years, were awed by the British band.

All of these mourned the loss, and continued their work for the future. The world stopped to mourn, remembering the greatest moments of their history. Then, it went back to normal, though it would never really be the same; not forgetting about them, for their impact on culture and society was eternal.

The Beatles had a unique opportunity; all four lived and saw their influence on the world. Though they might not have known its full extent, they understood it was big and forever. What they did not know was that they would get the chance to do it all over again.

“Ahh.”

The sky was cloudless, with the sun’s rays having a clear window to flow through. They were only interrupted by the shadows of the flocks of birds, singing overhead. On the ground, there was nothing but fresh green grass. It was a picturesque world, the one the drummer awoke in.

“My bloody head,” he winced. “My head, my…head…my hair!”

The man sat up and clutched his hair; finding it to be long, and rather shaggy.

“What the bloody-when did it grow back out!?”

He jumped up, finding himself on the side of a small hill.

“How did I get-ah, my clothes! When did I put these on!?” he yelled. “What, how-Gah!”

He fell back down onto the side of the hill, rubbing his hands through his long hair.

“Alright, just keep easy; you’re going to be fine,” he told himself, rubbing his forehead. “What on Earth is going on?”

He sat there for a few minutes, before he heard something. The sound was distinct, that of a guitar; it was an unplugged electric, but it was close enough to barley be heard. There was also a voice to go with it. That voice was much more important, because it sounded familiar; it sounded very familiar. It was like one he had not heard in seemingly forever.

“Isn’t it a pity?

Now isn’t it a shame?

How we break each-other’s hearts,

And cause each other pain?”

“That song, I know it,” he said. “On the other side of the hill, it couldn’t be.”

He scrambled onto his feet and ran up the hill, in the direction of the music. The sound and voice were too clear; it could not be a recording. But that voice, unless it was a perfect imitation, there was only one person in the world who had that voice.

He reached the top and looked down from there. Sure enough, there was a man in long clothes, with similarly long hair, lying on his back. He had a guitar with him that he was strumming away on, and was singing the song perfectly word-for-word. There was really no way, but since he was the only person here, he might as well find out.

“Hey!” the drummer yelled. “Hey, you there!”

The singer stopped in the middle of the song and looked over his shoulder.

“No, no that’s not possible!” the drummer exclaimed. “George bloody Harrison!?”

The guitarist chuckled at this.

“And I guess that makes you Ringo bloody Starr, huh mate?”

“How in the world did you get here?” Ringo asked, running down to meet his old friend.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” he replied, standing up with his guitar.

“No, I mean…George, you’re supposed to be dead.”

The guitarist raised his eyebrows.

“Hm, really now?”

“Last time I checked, yes.”

“Well, that would explain a few things,” he said. “But if that’s the case, how are you here?”

“What?”

“Look at me, I’m young again; so are you,” Harrison pointed out. “Unless I came back from the dead and you turned your body’s clock back a couple decades, then you must’ve died, too.”

“What!?”

“Is there anything you remember from before you got here?”

Ringo stopped, trying to remember the last thing he was doing.

“Last thing I remember was drivin’ a car, and then I got into a wreck-”

Ringo deadpanned.

“Guess that’s it,” George said.

“I-I thought it was just a dream.”

“If anything, this looks more like a dream.”

“No, oh no,” Ringo said, falling back onto the ground. “Oh…bugger.”

“I’m sorry, mate,” George said, taking a seat next to him. “But, I’m here for you.”

“How are you taking this so easy?”

“I guess ‘cause I saw it comin’,” George explained. “Last thing I remember was shuttin’ my eyes, and then I woke up here. My guitar was lying next to me, so I figured I’d play a song or two.”

“How come you have your guitar and my drums are missin’?” Ringo asked.

“I don’t know, I really don’t; I’m not even sure what this place is.”

“Heaven, maybe?”

“Maybe.”

The two sat there for a moment.

“Y’don’t think it’s hell, do you?”

“Na, it’s too peaceful.”

“Hm, you don’t suppose we were re-incarnated or somethin’, do you?”

“Into our old bodies? I doubt it,” George said. “Like I said, I have no clue where we are.”

“Nope, guess not.”

The two continued to sit there in silence, George picking at the strings lightly.

“Hey, what were my last words?” George asked. “I can’t remember them.”

“Your last words? Give me a moment,” Ringo said, trying to remember that day. “’Love one another’.”

“Love one another,” George repeated. “Yea, that sounds pretty good.”

“You were good with words when you decided to use ‘em,” Ringo complemented, getting back up. “So, let’s explore a little; what’d you say?”

“Explore?”

“Yea, we don’t know where we are, so we look around and find out; explore.”

“Sounds like a plan,” George agreed. “Y’know Ringo, dead or not, I’m glad you’re here to keep me company; would’ve been rather lonely just walking around on my own.”

“At least you’ve got your instrument,” Starr replied. “Can you imagine walking around alone without that? Even in a place like this, its torture.”

“Well, let’s see if we can find them, shall we?”

The two friends, happy with their reunion, started walking through the fields in some random direction, looking for anything at all. Regardless of what they would or would not find, they would at least stop each-other from going totally insane. The one thing they failed to notice while searching was a distant cloud in the sky; with a blue Pegasus spying on them from on top of it.

Author's Note:

First of all, I want to make it clear that Paul and Ringo are not dead yet. (Unless you believe the 'Paul is dead' conspiracy).

Thank you for reading, and please give some feedback!

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Avenging-Hobbits

Avenging-Hobbits #1 · Nov 30th, 2013 · 1 · ·

Alrighty proofreader comment:

So far so good. The opening narration might be a tad overly flowery, but that just might be your writing style

Why George and Ringo call each other by their full names when they first meet is odd to me, mostly because George and Ringo were like brothers.

But asides from that this looks like a nice simple start.

SuperPinkBrony12

SuperPinkBrony12 #2 · Dec 8th, 2013 · · ·

It will be a sad day when Paul and Ringo must leave this world. And it's too bad they will not likely end up in Equestria, because Equestria really deserves a chance to have the Fab Four all together, forever.