A Collection of Elton John Fanfictions

The Promise (Unfinished)

This story is insanely heartbreaking and persistently involves death. If you are easily affected by these sort of stories, you may want to take a break reading occasionally...
(This story is a self-insert story, so you are reading as if you are the character YOU in this story.) I am not finishing this story.

The shades were drawn, and the candles were dimly lit. You had your room exactly the way you wanted it: quiet, secluded, dark and alone. Nobody would disturb you here, for this was the safest spot you could find away from this brutal society. You sat in your room on your pillow with despair, feeling an overwhelming  rush of pain crawl into your body.
Your heart was heavy.
You gazed around your room, observing the tiny shadows of the candle flames dance freely on the wall. You wished freedom was as easy as those flames. Everything else was alarmingly still, and silent. The sunset outside was too low to creep through the cracks of space between your shades. It was the perfect time now, you figured to begin the séance. 
You would start with the music.
"Something slow, meaningful..." You thought, going on over to your massive pile of Elton John records in the corner. A 45 caught your eye of Sad Songs (Say So Much), but it was the melody that wasn't so sad. You flipped it over.
"A Simple Man", you whispered, looking at the promising cover of Elton looking dark in his suit.
"This'll do."
You took the record carefully out of its sleeve and walked over to your record player with deep melancholy. Honestly, you only heard this one one time before, and that was when you first discovered it. It was too depressing to play, so you never really payed much attention to it. But tonight, things were different. This song was now the one you needed to hear most.
You turned on your record player and unhitched the needle from its latch. You placed the 45 down carefully with love, ensuring all the dust and fingerprints were clear. Then you began the music.
A beautiful, gloomy electric piano sound filled your ears. And then a few moments later, it was him.

"I'm a simple man with a simple dream in a far from simple time..."

God.... the moody, country twang in his voice was just a gateway for you to let the tears begin to fall and the heartaches begin.  

"And I payed the price of the road I chose, but at least the choice was mine."

You looked at the floor, lost in a trance. Aching with a sudden stomach cramp, you wanted to curl up in a ball and die. The music that once healed you was now cutting you down like a cold, sharp knife.
"Your poor baby..." You looked back at the record, as if Elton was there right beside you. You heart feel so heavy for him, it was almost sinking faster than the golden sunset. 

"And at times I get the feeling that the journey's end is near..."

You could barely hold it in. Your throat was in so many knots it was ready to burst. Swallowing slowly and walking over to your incense drawer, you tried to keep yourself from breaking. You pulled out an incense stick carefully, smelling the sweet, sentimental scent between your fragile nostrils for just a moment to relax you.
The record still played.

"But I prefer to die with my head held high than to live my life in fear."

Die... fear... Those chilling words lingered like a red flag, and you knew... you knew you were going to be suddenly be sucked into the moment again before your eyes.

Thousands of fans, chanting his name.
"Elton! Elton! Elton!"
He walks across the stage elegantly, gently with an innocent smile. His encore would begin, for the fans.
At a glace, one might see a sudden intense, emotional look in his eye- a look as if everything was going to change for him. Surely, this would be a knockout performance.
He walked promptly over to the piano, except, he never did make it.
Elton collapsed face first into the solid floor, with flashes of bright red blood adoring the stage around him.
It was a deafening roar from the audience as blood curdling screams from men, women and children alike crouched down in fear. Mothers sank down and shielded their children's eyes from the ghastly attack and brutal sight. The men cringed, crying as their hero lied there, on the cold hard, floor, stagnant. Bleeding. Lifeness. The arena turned quickly into mass hysteria as every person known to mankind fled to save him and their own lives. But it was a little too late for Elton.
And you were there. Fifth row. Just a hair away from the bullet you wish hit you instead.

"Why did it have to happen!!?" You screamed, grabbing the lighter in your hand and lighting up the incense like a flame. You held it up in the air, shaking with intense fury and confusion. You shook the flame all around until it blew out and the incense began to burn. You were still shaken, petrified and palatalized emotionally from the trauma.