Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da

A Finding

"I still have not been able to figure out why only we have experienced all this paranormal activity. Why are we victims of such gore?" John exclaimed in an appalled manner.
"It is very weird as to why only we have seen any of this. Is Paul really that oblivious?" George replied in total agreement.
"We should start figuring out what exactly killed Billy. Maybe there's an actual cause for all of this," John advised, his tone bland.
"I don't see why we shouldn't figure out why there was a dead body that somehow moved."
John nodded as he stood up, moving towards the shelf where the corpse had been. It wasn't there anymore, but there were still signs of it. Small, reddish-brown shapes were scattered throughout the area. John looked around. The same, "shapes", were all around, flowing as they pleased. It wasn't dry at all, not as what he'd seen before.
Of course, it was blood.
John peered down at his hands. They also appeared to be an absolute mess. His heart began to race, his ears ringing. Indistinct images began to flash and take over his vision. John clutched at his head with force, stumbling over to a wall and holding it with one hand.
He heard voices and sounds, but they all seemed to melt into one big amalgamation. His name was called from a variety of people, but in different tones and emotions. Once again, a sharp pain was felt in his head. The rest of himself felt purely numb. He slammed his hands against the wall, pressing his head against it.
However, one voice was truly distinct, out of all the other chaos he was experiencing.
"John, what's going on? Do you feel alright?" George asked in a frantic tone as he approached him.
"Does it look like I'm alright at all? I'm not. I'm absolutely not. I feel too overwhelmed. Not only that, but I also feel as if I'm not myself. I swear, I actually have not consumed anything that would make me feel this way. I've never felt this horrible, not until now," John went on in a way that truly made him seem to be in agony.
"Try to take a deep breath. Focus on your breathing, it may do you good," George suggested.
"You don't get it, George. It's like I'm completely out of breath. Simply a powerless individual with no actual function."
"What we need to actually figure out is why you've been feeling this way since we've gotten here. I don't think it's normal to seem like you aren't you."
John stayed silent, not giving any actual reply—physical or verbal. His breathing was very heavy, though, and quite audible. It wasn't steady, however. Practically all of his breath trembled. He was visibly distressed. John rubbed at his face, only now turning away from the wall.
"Has the feeling gone?" George inquired.
"Somewhat, yes," John sighed.
"You know, I feel like getting some fresh air would do you good. We've been in this house for a while, and we've all been very stressed."
"That may help lots."
The two got outside quite quickly, John letting out a breath of pure relief as soon as he exited the building. He gazed around at his surroundings, very glad for the change of scenery. The overwhelming sensations had finally stopped. There was a nice breeze out there. Everything was actually fine.
"Is it not so much better now? That house is either freezing or incredibly warm, very unlike this area. Now, it's perfectly natural, which I definitely prefer more," George observed happily.
"Yeah, it is quite the nice day," John smiled.
The pair proceeded to sit in euphoric silence for an extended amount of time, before John chose to go back inside. He felt that they should spend more time actually attempting to solve the murder rather than waste any more time.
However, it was getting to now be very late—John and George were very much unable to refuse sleep. They were exhausted after the long day, and fell asleep on the couch incredibly quickly.