The Beatles Short Stories

A Nightmare

Boom!

Crash!

Boom!

"What the...?" a half-asleep John Lennon muttered as he blearily cracked his eyes opened, only to be blinded by another flash of lightning. "It's really storming!" he then said to himself as the sound of the windows rattling and rain pelting the roof reached his ears.

"How in the world are those other gits possibly sleeping through this?" he thought as he looked over at George and Ringo, who were sleeping quite contentedly in their own shared bed. His eyes then found themselves resting on Paul, who was lying on his back and, upon further inspection, (which was difficult for the rhythm guitarist because he didn't have his glasses on) a somewhat distressed expression masked his childlike face.

"Probably the storm bothering him," John deduced as he covered himself up with the covers once more. "I'm going to sleep, then. No need to let this little storm bother me."

But, although sleeping was John's intention, his near future didn't exactly contain it, for suddenly Paul began to thrash around violently next to him. Moaning and groaning, the bassist almost hit his songwriter partner smack in the face, but, thankfully, John dodged the flying hand ever so slightly. Paul then began to yell "no!" over and over again.

"Paul!" John whisper yelled as he reached a hand out to pin Paul's arm back down.

Paul just continued to cry and hit, his face shining from perspiration and his eyes clenched shut.

"Paul!" John tried once more, a bit louder, as he put both hands on Paul's shoulders and shook him.

He still received no response from Paul, but he did get a response from George and Ringo.

"What in Katrina's name is going on here?" Ringo inquired drowsily as he and George watched John fight with Paul.

"I don't know!" John cried, exasperated. "I think he's having a nightmare or something, but he won't wake up!"

"Oh dear," Ringo sighed as he scratched his head before switching on the lamp that was resting on the nightstand, which separated the two beds.

"Umm, let me try and wake him," George volunteered as he walked to the side of Paul and John's bed.

"Good luck," John mumbled sarcastically as George placed his hands on Paul's shoulders.

"Paul!" George pressed as he too shook Paul, who was thrashing just as violently as before. "Macca!" he demanded as he slapped Paul's cheek (Not too hard, mind you).

Still nothing.

"Alright, that's it!" John snapped as he abruptly got off of the bed and walked into the kitchen.

"Uh-oh, he's mad, Geo," Ringo said with wide eyes as he looked nervously at George and then the terrorized Paul.

"I wonder what..." George started, but was cut off by John rushing back into the room, a glass of water now clutched in his sweaty hands.

"John, now is not the time for drinks! We need to wake up Paul!" Ringo chided.

"It's not for me, you clod!" John spat as he sat down next to Paul, who at this point was mumbling some inaudible sentences.

"Then what the heck is it for?" Ringo groaned.

"It's for this!" John exclaimed as he jerked the glass in front of Paul's face, effectively allowing the water to splash directly into it.

"Agh!" Paul screamed as he finally came to, although his eyes didn't open all of the way. "Please! No! Don't!" he shrieked over and over again, as if he still didn't know where he was.