Elvis Lives

Chapter 8 - A Class With The King

So, in this chapter, I added a couple of videos that show Elvis performing with his guitar. Just imagine him performing like he is in the videos, but minus the guitar since he doesn't have one yet. Enjoy!

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Heat seared my eyelids. It was probably morning. My bed in my hotel room was right in view of the window, so if the curtains were drawn, the morning sun would shine in mercilessly, waking me up. I was keeping my eyes shut. I would back to sleep until the little alarm clock next to my desk goes off, either that, or Tom barging in, barking at me to wake up.

I wanted to keep on dreaming this dream that I had. I never thought my mind could create such a wild tale, one of me waking up in the future and meeting a woman as beautiful as an angel, and going to a really strange department store that was also a grocery store... and I watched King Creole all the way through with that beautiful woman's family, and I sang for them...

I never had a dream so vivid and exciting. I wanted to keep dreaming it.

I remained in bed, waiting for Tom to stomp in. Some time passed. Nothing. I probably woke up early... but the sun was out. More time passed. Nothing.

My eyes popped open, and I saw a white ceiling. I rubbed my face. "What's goin' on?" I looked to my right and found no clock on the bedside table. Confused, I sat up, then saw the rest of the room. "What the...?"

It all came to me. What I experienced in the past day wasn't a dream. I ran hand down my face and sat there for a minute, trying to wake up. I heard talking from outside of this room. A female voice. Curious, I came out of bed, but as I did, I noticed what I wore. The plain white shirt was normal, but the black and red checker pants weren't.

Oh. Hannah chose these out for me at that store, saying that they were good to sleep in. What was that store called? Wal-something. Walmart? Yeah, that was it. She got me a bunch of stuff there, and I sang and danced "Too Much" for a crowd.

"It seems like I'm stuck here," I said. "I even went to sleep and woke up here, not back home."

I ran a hand through my messy hair and heard that female voice again. I exited the room, and it became a little louder. It came from a closed door a little down the hall from mine. That was Hannah's sweeter-than-sugar voice. The corner of my mouth lifted at listening to it.

"I'm telling the truth, Ash," I heard Hannah say. "It's really him."

That caught my attention. I leaned more into the door. I didn't normally listen in on people's conversations, but I knew who she was referring to when she said "him".

"No, he's the one who got hit in the head, not me." She paused. "He's not making it up."

She sounded desperate, trying to convince whoever she's talking to that I'm me. She was probably on the phone. But who was she trying to convince? Who was this "Ash" person? Was that a man's name? She couldn't be talking to a man. She said she didn't have any special man friends. Maybe I just hoped she wasn't talking to a man.

"Really, Ash," Hannah went on. "Okay, how about this? You come over and see him for yourself. He looks exactly like him, he sounds like him, he's the same height, build, has that same exact smirk, and the cheekbones... a person can't fake all that, and they can't fake being so clueless about out technology now."

Hey now, clueless? Well, I guess she's not wrong. But I'll get there, learning about all those futuristic gadgets.

"He didn't get plastic surgery!" Hannah hollered. "He's the real thing. I promise, I'm not crazy. Maybe before, time travel never worked since people were doing it wrong or something, so they just stopped and never tried it again, and that brought the world to think that it's not real. Now, it is, and God or fate or whatever chose the most famous singer of the last century to be brought here and experience future life, and to find out about his future. He wants to do something about it now that he knows that the Elvis we know about dies in 1977."