Beatles Horror Stories

The Last Syringe

It was completely silent in the dining room where the four men sat.

All attention was focused on the single object in the center of the table.

John stared at each of his friends in turn, the bags under his eyes seeming to grow by the minute. Paul, having been the only one to have the courage to stare back, merely just yawned, rubbing his eyes in the process.

George stared at the object, eyes going red from both lack of blinking and sleep.

Ringo's elbow rested on the table, and he supported his head with his hand as he tried to fight against his need to sleep.

After a moment, John groaned.

"We can't just stay like this forever. Only one of us can have it."

Paul glared at him.

"Well, I'm not dying because someone in here took the adrenaline behind our backs!"

George fighter against his need to yawn.

"I just wish that someone knew why this whole sleep death phenomenon in happening..."

That statement made Ringo lean back in his chair, his hair, which had not been cut in a long time, fell over his eyes.

"I just feel sorry for the homeowner in that living room... She was probably as scared as we are right now..."

Everyone's voice was quiet and raw, due to the many sleepless days and nights they had to endure.

Paul sighed.

"If we get too carried away here, we'll just end up fighting each other for it."

John stretched, slamming his fists down on the table afterwards.

"Well Paul, I don't feel like sitting here and looking at the last one we have left. Besides, I can feel myself getting more tired by the second!"

"John, I wasn't-"

"Of course you want to start an arguement! That's how we were able to get the syringe from that man anyway!"

John scuffed.

"Lucky no one saw you, oh, accidentally smash his head in with-"

"T-that was an accident!"

George stood up from his chair, walking over to John, who was sitting opposite of him.

"Well, if somebody didn't already waste the one we had before that, then maybe we wouldn't be in this situation!"

Paul took in a breath.

"This whole sleep thing... I mean, people mysteriously dying the moment they go to sleep, I don't think that anyone could have prepared for it."

Ringo shook his head to keep himself awake.

"What's even causing it anyway?"

John took in a breath and stood up, looking at George and Paul.

"You two listen here! If I have to make sure that neither of you steal it, then-"

"May I remind you that you used the one we had before without consulting the rest of us?"

"George, I wasn't going to die just because I didn't-"

"You know what!? Maybe, you shouldn't even have a chance at using this one!"

All shouting ceased when the sound of a window opening echoed through the air.

John, Paul, and George all turned around, only to see Ringo empty the syringe outside and throw it out of the window.

The drummer closed the window and turned back around.

"It won't make a difference if any of us used it..." His voice was extremely quiet as he tried to focuse his vision.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN!?" John shouted.

Ringo didn't flinch.

"We can't fight the tiredness forever, John. Sooner or later... It'll get to us all."

Ringo leaned back against the wall, trying to prepare himself for what he knew was about to happen.

"B-besides... Adrenaline can o-only keep you awake for... For so long..."

His voice became very quiet.

"I t-think... I think I'm d-done..."

Not even a second after, Ringo's eyes closed and he slid down to a sitting position against the wall.

He fell on his side.

John, Paul, and George all watched with wide eyes as the drummer's chest began to slow, and after a minute, it stopped completely.

Staring at Ringo's body, George lowered his head in acceptance.

"H-he's right... We can't stay awake forever..."

John and Paul nodded in agreement.

George went back to his chair and sighed heavily.

The three Beatles spent the rest of the day sitting at the table, all wondering when they would finally fall.