I've Got A Feeling

Chapter One

"Paul, wake up!" I groaned putting my pillow over my face. "It's time to get up! You can't sleep in all day!" "I'm on holiday! I can do what I want!" "I'm your father." "Go away dad. You're not mum." I heard a sigh from the other side of the door. "Well, I have to go to work. So be nice to your brother." "I will." I dragged the  covers up to my shoulders in case Mike were to walk in. "Weren't you supposed to meet Ivan for that parade thing?" "Stop putting your nose in my business. But yes, I do. Now leave so I can get ready." "Okay Madam."

So I got out of bed and started to get ready. First I took a steamy shower, fixing up my hair into a teddy boy style, got dressed, and made my bed. It was warm out so I didn't need a jacket or anything like that. I sprinted out of the house to see Ivan walking up to the front door. "Wow, you actually got dressed on time." "Oh shove it." We engaged in small talk while walking to Woolton. He lead me to the back of a church, causing confusion to settle in the back of my mind. He quickly noticed from my facial expression and explained to me. "The Quarrymen are playing here today after the parade is over." "Oh, nice to know that then."

We waited for some time before I started to walk back home. "Where ya going?" "I'm not waiting all day, I have things to do." "Like what?" "It's none of your business." I pulled my arm away from Ivan and started to move my legs when I bumped into a guy walking past me. He had sunglasses on and could definitely give me a good punch. "Watch it, will ya?" "Sorry." I noticed they were walking onto the small stage to set up their instruments. Maybe I should stay. I walked back over to where Ivan was standing and started thinking about hundreds of things. "Ya came back." "Shut it." I heard the loud noise of guitar, drums, bass, and vocals. That's not half bad. Wait, those aren't the lyrics. Well, it's fine anyway. I looked up to see the person making the racket with their vocal chords. He has brown eyes with slightly auburn hair and is wearing a short sleeved flannel. I saw him snicker as he sang the next line of the song. "Take me down to the penitentiary." I let out a slight chuckle as my eyes concentrated on the man before me. I could see he was very focused since when he looked down at his chords he squinted. I found it very amusing. I felt a dig in my side. "So, you like it?" "Yeah, they're okay I guess. Not exactly perfect though."

I look back up to see the man staring into my eyes. They're glimmering like two stars at midnight. His facial expression softened from when I had previously seen it. I felt the same happening to me. I can't stop gazing into his shimmering orbs. It feels time stopped. It was soon cut off when he looked away, face quickly molding back to the stone cold statue it had been. Something about it had been different. I felt smooth chemistry and energy between us in the glance. I felt the beat of my heart as it pumped hot blood to my cheeks. My fingers exercise with electricity, little pangs of energy coursing through. I feel a longing just to look into those brown globes. Our brains fusing together as we both look up and take a longer glance. He has a more somber look this time, which I reciprocate almost like a reflex. For the rest of the show our eyes were locked upon each other, separate only a second to blink. Departing after the final note was played. I started to walk off when someone grabbed me by the arm.

"Hey, what's this? A diary?" It was the same guy wearing the sunglasses. "No, and I said sorry earlier, so could you let me go?" "Why don't we go through it, shall we?" He started flipping through the pages of my book. "I Lost My Little Girl? What is this shit?" I was about to answer before someone else walked over. "Stu, what are you-......" "Hi." "Hi. What is this?" "This kid had it, and it looks like some poetry crap." He took hold of it carefully, squinting at the page. I waited for a snarky remark, a witty liner, or an insult in general, but I didn't hear one come from him. "Isn't it shit? He's practically a bird, he even looks like one." He had a gentle look in his eyes. "You write songs?" "I uh, um, yeah. I guess you could say that." "So do I, well it's not really songs. More like poetry in a sense." I saw the other guy walk off, so it was just us two. "Uh, by the way, I'm John. John Lennon." "Paul McCartney."