A Twist For Pop

Chapter 2 - What's Happening?

Chapter 2 – What's Happening?Four days later and I've been discharged from the hospital with more pain medication than I can count and I've just pulled up outside mums house... something about the way the house looks doesn't look right. I climb out of the car and walk inside... something's definitely not right. The place doesn't look the same as I remember it; it looks like it did when I was younger. 'Aren't I going back to my place?' I ask 'no honey you're staying here' mum mentions as I walk around the living room and catch my reflection in the mirror but I have to do a double take, I stand statue still and stare at my reflection. This can't be real; my hair is long and blonde not short and red, my skin is glowing and healthy the skull and rose tattoos that once covered my neck are gone and so are my elaborate sleeves. My facial piercings and my huge black stretchers are non-existent and my chest scarification is gone. What the hell is going on? I touch my face and body, I can't feel my bones sticking out anymore and my skin is no longer sagging and wrinkled.'Evie, you've had a letter' I hear mum excitedly mention from behind me but I'm too preoccupied to realise, 'you ok Evie?' she stops what she's doing and looks over at me concerned. 'Um...' I have no idea what to say. I don't know what's going on, I just saw years of my life played out in front of my eyes now here I am staring at my 20 year old self as if the biggest part of my life never existed. 'Evie, love you've got a letter' mum mentions again holding the letter in her hand. She looks just like a child on Christmas morning excitedly waiting to open their present. I turn to face her just as she thrusts the letter into my hand begging me to open it; at least some things never change. Always the over eccentric one."Dear Miss Evie Macintyre We are pleased to inform you that you are the lucky winner of our 'Meet a Celebrity' competition; we were extremely impressed with your entry. You have won the chance to meet and stay with a mystery celebrity for three weeks. The travel has been paid for by the company and a car will arrive at your address at precisely 9:00am on the 25th April 1992, the driver will take you to Heathrow airport and there will be another driver waiting in Santa Barbara airport to pick you up and to take you to the celebrities home.(The letter continues) SincerelyVivian R L Stokes Competition organiser"Attached to the letter are two other pieces of paper, a sketch and another piece of paper with writing on. The sketch is a montage of different bands and musicians that I love and the things I associate with him, the other piece of paper with the writing on is an explanation of what the drawing means. I skim read it and even I'm impressed by what I've written. The only problem is that I don't remember doing any of it but it is my handwriting and I'd recognise one of my sketches anywhere.I look at mum confused. 'What competition did I enter?' I ask and I'm met with mum's shocked expression 'you don't remember?' when I shake my head she carries on her rant 'Bloody hell Evie, before the accident it's all you talked about' my vacant expression remains on my face so mum fills me in 'basically the competition required you to create an art piece on something that's precious to you, in your case it was music and then you had to write an essay explaining why you drew it. If you win you get to spend three weeks staying with a celebrity but nobody knows who it is... You wouldn't stop talking about it, everyday you'd ask if the letter had come. In fact...on the day of your accident you were on the way to the post office to see if the letter had been lost' mum looks at the floor as she remembers the day I was hit by the car even though I still don't quite remember it.For an age, I sit at the table and read through the letter again and again while mum is washing the dishes from our dinner earlier. I notice the date that I'm supposed to be meeting the celebrity at the top of the letter. It's tomorrow. Instead of sitting at the table anymore and wondering what the hell is going on I decide to go upstairs and pack my bag ready for the trip. As I pack I notice my stack of CD's in the corner of the room, at least this has stayed the same, and right at the top of the pile is my favourite album of all time Bad by Michael Jackson. A stray tear falls down my cheek; he was the most talented musician I have ever heard and now he's gone.After spending hours packing my bag I glance at the clock and see that its 11:03pm so I decide to climb into bed but before I surrender myself to sleep I reach under my bed and pull out my brown leather diary that has certainly seen better days and quickly note down everything that has happened to me but eventually I lose the battle with my eyelids and drift off to sleep...