Beatles Horror Stories

The Quest for Answers (Part 3)

Well, it's about time I finally continue this story.

~

"Okay, we won't tell anyone about this book, and I'll hide it here," Ringo stated as he put the old book under the pillow.

George sighed as he viewed his actions from the other bed.

"I'm not really in the mood in reading more of it anytime soon, Ringo. This is all still... hard to process."

Ringo laid down on the bed, barely being able to feel the hardness of the book under the softness of the pillow as he stared up at the ceiling of the dark hotel room.

"Neither am I, but... what else can we do? I just want to take a break."

George shook his head.

"Would be nice if everything can just go back to normal. I mean, there always has to be a police car looking after us wherever we go. Even at the library..."

Ringo opened his mouth to respond, but before he could...

Thump

A large thump came from outside their door...

Ringo and George turned their heads to it immediately.

"L-lads? Please, I n-need help..."

The voice, all too familiar, was instantly recognized by both Beatles.

"P-Paul?" Ringo asked after a moment.

"I... I'm hurt..." the voice coughed.

"P-please... it w-was awful..."

George, being closer to the door, stood up and slowly walked to the door.

Taking a look through the peephole, he gasped.

"It's actually him!" George exclaimed.

Ringo stood up as George opened the door, and even he could see Paul's form on the floor in the hallway.

His skin was sickly pale, his clothes dirty and torn in places.

It looked as though he was on the verge of dying.

"Wha... What happened!?" Ringo asked, running up to the pair as George helped Paul to stand.

"I... I c-can't... It..."

He coughed again, and George had to stop him from falling over.

"It... J-John... We... Ooooohhhhh..."

Paul closed his eyes and fainted, falling back against George, who was forced to hold him.

Ringo stared at the two for a moment.

"We need to get him to a hospital, now!"

Without another word, Ringo and George rushed down the hallway, the guitarist holding Paul all the while.

Inside their room, all was silent.

Suddenly, on the wall behind both beds, a small black dot appeared, and it slowly began to write out a single sentence.

Once it was done,the dot rested next to the last letter.

The text was barely large enough to be legible, but the words were just clear enough to be made out.

YOU SHOULD HAVE READ MORE WHEN YOU WERE AT THE LIBRARY, RICHARD.