The Beatles Short Stories

I've Just Seen a Face

Ok, so this story is going to be (very) loosely based on "The Twilight Zone" episode entitled "The Hitchhiker." I just wanted to let you know in case you had seen it and thought I was trying to plagiarize or something. Since it's October, this one is going to be scary as well. Enjoy!
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   "He's wearing his lucky rings," George Harrison stated.
   "They're all mine!" Ringo exclaimed as he took the other three Beatles' playing cards.
   "They won't buy you happiness my son," John remarked.
     The Beatles were currently in the middle of filming their television special entitled "Magical Mystery Tour." They were on the tour bus and had gotten bored, so they decided to waste time by playing cards. Of course, Ringo was winning (for the fifth time) and the other Beatles were starting to grow tired of losing.
   "I think I'm done, mates," said Paul as he got up from the bus seat to stretch his legs.
   "Me too. Personally, I'm tired of losing to the 'master of cards'," John said.
   "How much longer until we get to Bristol, driver?" Paul asked.
   "About three hours or so," the driver replied.
   "Oh."
     Paul sighed to himself and retook his seat. Don't get him wrong, he did enjoy this 'Magical Tour' and all. He was just a bit bored and a little on edge for some reason. He just didn't feel like himself, so for that reason, he was ready to reach their destination. One of the many cast members noticed that Paul looked a little down and asked him what the matter was. He replied by saying that nothing was the matter. "Just don't feel like myself, that's all." The cast member nodded and turned back around in her seat. Paul closed his eyes for a few minutes until his thoughts were interrupted by the driver speaking on the intercom.
   "Ladies and gentlemen of the "Magical Mystery Tour" we will be making a pit stop to get gas in five minutes. So, if you would like to purchase any snacks or something of that sort, I suggest you start finding your currency in order to do so. Thank you."
   "Yay! I was really in the mood for some crisps," George exclaimed.
   "Me too!" Ringo agreed.
   "Paul, how bout you?" John questioned.
   "Oh, um, crisps sound good," said Paul.
     John noticed that Paul was acting a bit flustered, but decided not to say anything.
   "Ok."
     Five minutes later, the psychedelic tour bus pulled into a small gas station. The cast members got out followed by the Fab Four. It was the beginning of Autumn so there was a certain chill to the wind, but nothing cold enough to make you miserable. George and Ringo went up ahead of John and Paul who were choosing to stay behind the eccentric crowd. John took the opportunity to pick Paul's brain.
   "So, Paul. What's up with you?"
   "Nothing," he replied as he absent mindedly pulled a thread from his colorful sweater vest.
   "You just seem a bit off."
   "I feel a bit off. I don't know how else to explain it."
     By this point the load of cast members, along with John, Paul, George, and Ringo had made their way inside the gas station. There wasn't really anyone else inside, to the relief of the famous musicians. The front desk attendant was staring wide eyed and open mouthed at the crowd of brightly dressed people who had just piled into the small station. They didn't seem to take notice, though. George and Ringo found their way to the crisps, which left John and Paul to look for something to snack on. They eventually settled on a box of caramel popcorn and went to the front desk to pay. John went to grab his wallet, but soon realized he had left it in the bus.
   "I'll be right back, Paul. I left my wallet in the bus."
   "Alright."
     By this time, the abundance of cast members had already made their way back to the tour bus. Now, Paul was waiting in the gas station alone, all except for the front desk attendant. Paul began to hum a tune to himself as he tapped his foot on the floor. He then heard the door open, which sent a blast of cold air to fill the room, and turned his attention over to it, fully expecting to see John. But what he saw most definitely wasn't his friend. It was a priest. Paul noticed that he looked quite grim and pale. He was wearing a black robe and his hair was as white as snow. Something about the man sent shivers down Paul's spine. The priest stood at the door, eerily motionless for a moment until noticing that John was returning. He set his dark eyes upon Paul in a cold stare and then slowly lifted his bony finger up to his lips, as if to beckon the bassist to stay quiet. He then turned around, somewhat mechanically, and walked out. Paul stood there speechless, unable to think or move. John reentered and immediately noticed Paul standing motionless, his face deathly pale.
   "Paul, what's wrong? You look as if you've seen a ghost."
   "Th-that man."
   "What man, Paul?"
   "The priest. He didn't look creepy to you?"
   "What priest? There's no one else here besides us."
   "Come on now, John. The priest that just passed you on your way back in here."
   "I didn't pass anybody."
     John was really starting to get worried about his friend. He didn't know if Paul was delusional, overworked, or a bit of both.
   "John, I know you did."
   "No, I didn't."
   "Stop it! It's not funny!" Paul began to cry.
   "Easy, Macca. I'm not trying to be funny. I really am telling the truth," John said as he patted Paul's back.
   "Whatever, John."
     And with that, Paul stormed out of the gas station and back to the tour bus. John gazed confusedly out of the glass door and then realized he still needed to pay for their snack. Meanwhile, back on the bus, everyone had taken their seats and were ready to roll. Paul stomped back onto the bus and plopped down in the seat nearest to the back. He earned a few perplexed looks as he did so but he didn't care. He was just mad at John for not believing him. A few minutes later, John entered the bus with his and Paul's snack. He saw his friend in the back and decided to try and make amends with him.
    "Hey Macca! What some of this popcorn? I can't eat it all by myself."
    "I'm not hungry."
    "But, Paul, you haven't eaten all day."
    "So?"
    "So, you'll make yourself sick."
    "Then let it be."
    "Paul, I don't understand what your problem is!"
      John was starting to get frustrated. He never knew Paul to act this way.
    "My problem is you John! Why don't you believe me?"
    "I didn't say that I didn't believe you! I just said that I didn't see anybody leave when I was going in!"
    "Which is the same as not believing me!"
    "I don't know what to say, Paul. I'm not gonna lie to you."
    "If you wouldn't mind, I'd like to be alone."
    "Alright, let me know if you need anything."
      Paul nodded and John found a seat. John was utterly confused and worried about his younger friend. He couldn't recall a time when Paul had acted this touchy and distant. He knew something was bothering him, he just didn't know what. Paul, on the other hand, was sitting against the window staring at the grey clouds. He was still wondering why that priest had stared at him and told him to keep quiet. He also didn't understand why John claimed not to have seen him. "Maybe he's telling the truth. Maybe I'm just crazy and I thought I saw him," Paul thought. About that time, the tour bus started to drive across an old bridge. Paul heard Ringo and George, who were sitting up front, ooing and awing at it. The bassist then redirected his attention back to the window. He gazed out absent mindedly until his eyes stopped upon a stomach churning sight. It was the priest. He was standing on the bridge with his deathly black robe against his ghostly pale skin. His penetrating eyes stared into Paul's hazel ones while he lifted his bony finger up to his thin lips. Paul almost yelled out in fear, but held himself together. He looked back out of the window to surprisingly find nothing but the grey sky once again. He blinked and looked back out again. Nothing. John, who was sitting closest to Paul, realized that McCartney was breathing heavily and again looked like he had just seen a ghost.
   "Alright there?"
   "I saw h-him again."
   "Who?"
   "The priest."
   "Oh."
   "I know you probably still don't believe me though."
   "Look, Macca. I'll believe you. In fact, I'll keep a look out for the priest myself."
   "Really?"
   "Of course. Now you just relax. We'll be in Bristol in another two hours or so."
   "Ok. Thanks John."
   "You're welcome."
     Paul watched as John went back to his seat. He was so glad that he had finally believed him, but he was also scared of this priest thing. He wondered why he kept seeing him everywhere. Nevertheless, Paul decided that he needed to get his mind off of it. So, he pulled out his notebook and began to work on a song. Meanwhile, John sat back down and began to think. "Of course I don't believe him. I just didn't know what to say. I feel bad lying to him like that, though. What else was I supposed to do? Let him be miserable? I don't know, but I'd like to know what all of this is about. I do know that."