Beatles Horror Stories

On His Own (Part 2)

Requested by GorgingGeorge

~

George's chest slowly rose and fell as he stared out at the endless sky above him.

He had been out here for three days now, and it had been a lot harder than he thought it was going to be.

As he laid on the raft, he tried to gather enough energy to stare at the two empty coconut shells next to him, but, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't move.

Still, he figured, this was much better than being stuck on the island.

His mind wondered about how Ringo was doing, for he knew that John and Paul wouldn't be much help. 

That drummer was the only person that he was able to have a normal talk with on the island as the weeks went on, but eventually, the stress and anger became to much for George.

Ringo didn't want to go with him, probably because he just saw it as a suicide mission, but George understood nonetheless.

George closed his eyes, his stomach rumbling and mouth seeming to get dryer.

He couldn't go back to the island.

He had no idea where it was now.

In fact, he didn't even know where he was at this very moment.

The guitarist was stuck out in the middle of an ocean, and he knew all to well that it was going to be a long time before he reached land.

No ships had come across him, at least none that George knew were real.

Hallucinations were pretty comforting to him, for they allowed him to at least pretend to be rescued.

George, producing a small scratchy groan, opened his eyes slowly, skin red and peeling in areas.

He would die out here, and he might never be found.

That fact didn't make him scared this time around, for it seemed like a relief from the pain he was facing now.

John was right.

George hadn't been able to survive on his own for long.

The first day wasn't so bad, but the small stock of food could only last so long.

It was much more difficult than George thought it would be to catch fish, and he had used up all of his sticks either trying to catch one or start a small fire.

That fire had burnt through one of the coconut shells, making it completely impossible of getting fresh water.

George let out a small chuckle, even though it sounded more like a cry as it left his dried lips.

Each breath took him massive amounts of effort to do, and he could feel death approaching slowly.

At this rate, he knew that he'd be a corpse laying on a drifting raft by tomorrow.

Once again, George closed his eyes, listening to the waves crashing all around him.

There was no hope for him now.

All he could do was wish that there was still some hope for his friends back on the island.

John might have finally snapped.

Paul could have finally gathered the nerve to take care of John.

Ringo...

What could he possibly do?

Join Paul in his efforts, hide deep within the island's forest, go crazy with John, or...

The possibility of suicide did not surprise George the slightest. He would prefer doing it himself instead of slowly dying on this raft out in the middle of a blue void.

George thought about the situation he was in.

On the surface, he knew that he should be scared right now.

Miles and miles away from civilization, not knowing where he was going, completely out of control of where the ocean was taking him.

Somehow, George didn't even feel worried about it.

He didn't know why.

Maybe, it was because he was far away from possible danger.

Maybe, the calming sound of the waves was calming him.

Maybe...

George couldn't think about any other reasons. 

He stayed still on the raft, eyes closed, for what felt like an eternity.

It might have been one minute later, or an hour, that he finally opened his eyes again.

The sun was still beaming down on his already sunburned skin, but he was slowly becoming numb to the pain as his body slowly shut down on him.

A few scattered clouds also shared the sky with the giant yellow orb, but besides that, nothing.

George had not heard anything apart from the waves crashing down for as long as he was out here.

It felt like he had spent years out here, drifting on the lonely sea, even though he knew that it was truly only three days since he had left the island.

Ringo was probably still worrying about him, but George couldn't think of a reason why he would still be.

He knew that Ringo had lost all hope for rescue by the time he left the island, and even George knew that there was next to no chance of him coming across anything.

George closed his eyes, smiling a little as he remembered their lived before they all went on that ill-fated flight.

Everything had been fine one moment, but the next...

They were all tasked with surviving on their own.

And now, George laid on the raft, slowly dying as John, Paul, and Ringo were left behind on the island.

A single tear forming in his eye, George's breath slowed to a stop.