The Beatles Short Stories

Run For Your Life

   "Guys, are you sure about this?" said Ringo as he glanced nervously at his best mates.
   "Oh, Ringo don't worry. Besides, we don't even know if it's true," reasoned Paul.
   "He's right, I mean, it's not like there's records saying for a fact that someone was murdered there or anything," said John sarcastically.
   "There is...proof  that someone was killed?" Ringo gasped.
   "Don't listen to him! He's just trying to freak you out," said Paul as he glared over at John.
   "Is it true, though?" George spoke up.
   "Maybe..." said John with a devilish grin spread across his face. Paul just looked at the two and shook his head.
     It was a stormy night in 1964. The Beatles were on tour and they happened to be making their way to a hotel where, years ago, a woman was supposedly murdered. Once Ringo found out about the 'haunting,' he was immediately scared. Let's just say that he never wanted the limo ride to end, because as soon as it did, well, you can figure out the rest.
   "Ok, so, who's sharing rooms this time?" asked their manager, Brian Epstein, from the front seat of the limo.
   "Um, I don't care," stated George.
   "How about I share with Ringo?" John said as he rubbed his hands together and put on an evil grin.
   "Noooooo!" wailed Ringo.
     John looked at him and cackled madly.
   "Look, I'll share with you, Ringo," Paul offered.
   "Sounds good," Ringo agreed.
   "Well, anything's better than sharing with him," George said as he pointed a finger towards John.
    "Ok, then, it's settled. Paul with Ringo and John with George," said Brian.
    "Sorry George," said Ringo as he gently smiled.
    "It's alright, mate."
    "We're here!" Brian exclaimed.
    "Oh great," Ringo said under his breath.
      The limo had pulled up to a quite exquisite looking hotel. It resembled the famous Plaza Hotel in New York city, except it wasn't that large. Almost every window was glowing with light, which actually looked inviting to the four tired lads. Ringo felt a little better once he had actually seen the hotel, but he still wasn't a hundred percent convinced that it was safe. The limo stopped and the four groaned at the realization that they were going to have to get out in the cold rain. Brian told them that he had an umbrella, but that still didn't make it any better. Nonetheless, the five of them jumped out of the car and ran to the awning of the lavish hotel, Ringo slipping once and falling on his bum. They walked through the golden plated doors and stepped inside the warm lobby. They were immediately awestruck at the high ceilings, red carpets, grand staircase, and crystal chandelier of the century old hotel.
    "Wow, this beats staying in a motel any day," said George.
    "You're right there, mate," agreed Paul as he looked up at the sparkling chandelier, his mouth hanging wide open.
    "Um, I believe we have three rooms reserved?" Brian asked the front desk attendant.
    "Would you happen to be a Mr. Brian Epstein?" the attendant questioned as he looked through the papers of reservation.
    "Yes sir."
    "Okay, very good. You shall have rooms 113, 114, and 115. Is that alright?"
    "Of course, I mean, one room is as good as the other," Brian smiled.
    "Not in this hotel," the attendant replied with a grim look on his face.
    "What do you mean?"
    "Well, I didn't really want to tell you this, but, room number 113 is the room that Miss Aurora McBride was murdered in almost a century ago," the man replied looking rather serious.
    "Oh, well, I'm glad to know that. Thank you very much."
    "You're very welcome.  I hope you a good night, sir."
    "You as well," the manager replied as he made his way back over to his four, still awestruck, boys.
    "Ok, so, we've got rooms 113, 114, and 115. I say we head on up. It's getting kinda late," said Brian.
    "But we're not tired!" cried John with a pouty face.
    "Too bad. We're going up anyways," answered Brian as the five ascended the grand staircase to their rooms.
     Ringo's earlier thoughts of fear had slowly begun to fade away, though not completely. Now, he was more focused on what their rooms were going to look like, because if they looked anything like the lobby, they were going to be awesome.
    "Ok, I'll take room 113. Paul and Ringo, you get room 114 and John and George, you get room 115," said Brian as they approached the dark green doors.
    "Sounds gear," replied George with very little enthusiasm.
    "Thanks Brian," Paul smiled as he took the key from his manager's hand.
    "You're welcome. Well, goodnight boys."
    "Goodnight, Brian," they all replied in unison. And with that, each pair began to unlock their rooms.
    "Ok, Ringo, let's see this room!" said Paul as he quietly turned the key.
      Once the door was unlocked, Paul walked in first. He turned on the light, which revealed the red carpets, small desk, and two twin beds which were matched with a crisp white comforter.
    "This is nice. Isn't it?" Paul inquired as he looked about the room.
    "Yes," Ringo agreed.
    "Well, it's only nine o clock, would you like to watch some telly?" the bassist asked the drummer.
    "Sure."
      Paul turned the television on and started to flip through channels. He stopped, however, when the voice of Alfred Hitchcock caught his attention.
     "Must be "Alfred Hitchcock Presents" Paul deduced.
     "Yes, but, do we have to watch it?" Ringo said as he began to play with his hands unconsciously.
     "No, we can find something else," Paul replied quickly when he realized that his friend was still a little spooked.
      Paul eventually found "Lassie" and kept it on that.
     "That's better," he said when a knock sounded at the door. "I'll get it."
      He opened the door, after looking through the peep hole of course, to find his other two mates.
     "Haven't seen you in years it seems," John said in a mock tone.
     "Yeah," Paul laughed. "Come in, then."
       John and George walked in to find Ringo lying on the bed watching telly. John glanced at the television and was immediately distraught.
     "Lassie? Is that the best you can do? We're in a haunted hotel a door across from the scene of the murder and all you can handle is a show about a boy and his puppy dog?"
     "Hey! This is a good show! Wait, what do you mean by 'a door across from the scene of the murder'?" gasped Ringo.
     "I mean, I overheard the front desk man telling Brian that room 113 was the room that Aurora McBride was murdered in," John exclaimed looking quite excited.
     "What? You mean it's true?" George yelled.
     "That's what that man said."
     "Then that means..." Ringo started but was cut off when the room suddenly went black and a horrified scream could be heard across the hall.