A Beginning
Reality leaves a lot to the imagination.
John Lennon
Anyone who has ever watched the news knows that there is always something bad to report. Obviously, bad news gains more attention than someone just saying ‘everything’s good’ because it is more important and therefore more profitable for the reporter. It is a rather sad way of seeing media, but that would be the way the world works.
No exception can be made to reporting bad news, for obviously people need to know; this would certainly not be one. Today was nothing more than an average, cold November afternoon; nothing major happening. Days like this are the most viable candidates for disasters.
“A sad report coming in just now,” as an average disaster report goes. “Ladies and gentlemen, I regret to inform you that today on November 12th, 2012 at 2:30 P.M., famous musician Paul McCartney, has died in a helicopter crash near his estate in East Essex, England. McCartney was best known for being a member of The Beatles, a rock group from the 1960s and the highest selling band of all time.”
People seem to pass when least expected, and in the oddest of ways. Perhaps that is why some people become so shocked when it happens; though he was at the age of seventy at that year, few people would have guessed that a helicopter crash would be the end.
Indeed, fate itself seems to relish unprecedentedness; throwing the oddest things at us when we least expect them. Good or bad, it is a rather cruel practice of keeping us in the dark. But, as with many things, it is out of our control; some things simply have to happen, whether we see them as good or bad.
“A shocking new report coming in; just hours after Sir Paul McCartney, his former bandmate and Beatle drummer, Ringo Starr, was killed in a car incident. He was the last remaining member of the famous group, with John Lennon being shot in 1980, and George Harrison dying from cancer in 2001.”
That was it; as if taking one was not good enough, or causes enough pain, another was taken, the last one. Just like that, their roads ended here, all at once with no alternative. Just like that, everything was gone, with only a legacy left to remember.
Needless to say, it was devastating; everything just seemed to stop. Losing just one of the remaining Beatles would be a blow, but two in the same day? It was probably the worst catastrophe to strike the industry since the infamous 1959 plane crash that took Holly, Valens, and Richardson; ‘The Day Music Died’ as it was called.
But music was not going to die again now; the four had left their legacy, made their mark. The kind style they had created that kind of Art Rock, and perfecting so many others. Picking up on the pop and skiffle trend, by the end of their time their lyrics alone told stories that could fill a rather thick book. And people noticed this, a lot of people, people who wanted to do something like that one day.
Pink Floyd’s psychedelic, enigmatic song styles were the next level of The Beatle’s psychedelic works. U2 modeled one of their more famous music videos after The Rooftop Concert. Brian Wilson and The Beach Boys went on to make Pet Sounds after hearing Rubber Soul.
Even the more outlandish genres, that at first sight would cause one to put the four as the last possible influence, had some connection. Kurt Cobain of Nirvana wrote ‘About a Girl’ after listening to Meet the Beatles for three hours. The country group Crosby, Stills, and Nash covered Blackbird. Even some of Van Halen, in their childhood years, were awed by the British band.
All of these mourned the loss, and continued their work for the future. The world stopped to mourn, remembering the greatest moments of their history. Then, it went back to normal, though it would never really be the same; not forgetting about them, for their impact on culture and society was eternal.
The Beatles had a unique opportunity; all four lived and saw their influence on the world. Though they might not have known its full extent, they understood it was big and forever. What they did not know was that they would get the chance to do it all over again.
“Ahh.”
The sky was cloudless, with the sun’s rays having a clear window to flow through. They were only interrupted by the shadows of the flocks of birds, singing overhead. On the ground, there was nothing but fresh green grass. It was a picturesque world, the one the drummer awoke in.
“My bloody head,” he winced. “My head, my…head…my hair!”
The man sat up and clutched his hair; finding it to be long, and rather shaggy.
“What the bloody-when did it grow back out!?”
He jumped up, finding himself on the side of a small hill.
“How did I get-ah, my clothes! When did I put these on!?” he yelled. “What, how-Gah!”
He fell back down onto the side of the hill, rubbing his hands through his long hair.
“Alright, just keep easy; you’re going to be fine,” he told himself, rubbing his forehead. “What on Earth is going on?”
He sat there for a few minutes, before he heard something. The sound was distinct, that of a guitar; it was an unplugged electric, but it was close enough to barley be heard. There was also a voice to go with it. That voice was much more important, because it sounded familiar; it sounded very familiar. It was like one he had not heard in seemingly forever.
“Isn’t it a pity?
Now isn’t it a shame?
How we break each-other’s hearts,
And cause each other pain?”
“That song, I know it,” he said. “On the other side of the hill, it couldn’t be.”
He scrambled onto his feet and ran up the hill, in the direction of the music. The sound and voice were too clear; it could not be a recording. But that voice, unless it was a perfect imitation, there was only one person in the world who had that voice.
He reached the top and looked down from there. Sure enough, there was a man in long clothes, with similarly long hair, lying on his back. He had a guitar with him that he was strumming away on, and was singing the song perfectly word-for-word. There was really no way, but since he was the only person here, he might as well find out.
“Hey!” the drummer yelled. “Hey, you there!”
The singer stopped in the middle of the song and looked over his shoulder.
“No, no that’s not possible!” the drummer exclaimed. “George bloody Harrison!?”
The guitarist chuckled at this.
“And I guess that makes you Ringo bloody Starr, huh mate?”
“How in the world did you get here?” Ringo asked, running down to meet his old friend.
“Your guess is as good as mine,” he replied, standing up with his guitar.
“No, I mean…George, you’re supposed to be dead.”
The guitarist raised his eyebrows.
“Hm, really now?”
“Last time I checked, yes.”
“Well, that would explain a few things,” he said. “But if that’s the case, how are you here?”
“What?”
“Look at me, I’m young again; so are you,” Harrison pointed out. “Unless I came back from the dead and you turned your body’s clock back a couple decades, then you must’ve died, too.”
“What!?”
“Is there anything you remember from before you got here?”
Ringo stopped, trying to remember the last thing he was doing.
“Last thing I remember was drivin’ a car, and then I got into a wreck-”
Ringo deadpanned.
“Guess that’s it,” George said.
“I-I thought it was just a dream.”
“If anything, this looks more like a dream.”
“No, oh no,” Ringo said, falling back onto the ground. “Oh…bugger.”
“I’m sorry, mate,” George said, taking a seat next to him. “But, I’m here for you.”
“How are you taking this so easy?”
“I guess ‘cause I saw it comin’,” George explained. “Last thing I remember was shuttin’ my eyes, and then I woke up here. My guitar was lying next to me, so I figured I’d play a song or two.”
“How come you have your guitar and my drums are missin’?” Ringo asked.
“I don’t know, I really don’t; I’m not even sure what this place is.”
“Heaven, maybe?”
“Maybe.”
The two sat there for a moment.
“Y’don’t think it’s hell, do you?”
“Na, it’s too peaceful.”
“Hm, you don’t suppose we were re-incarnated or somethin’, do you?”
“Into our old bodies? I doubt it,” George said. “Like I said, I have no clue where we are.”
“Nope, guess not.”
The two continued to sit there in silence, George picking at the strings lightly.
“Hey, what were my last words?” George asked. “I can’t remember them.”
“Your last words? Give me a moment,” Ringo said, trying to remember that day. “’Love one another’.”
“Love one another,” George repeated. “Yea, that sounds pretty good.”
“You were good with words when you decided to use ‘em,” Ringo complemented, getting back up. “So, let’s explore a little; what’d you say?”
“Explore?”
“Yea, we don’t know where we are, so we look around and find out; explore.”
“Sounds like a plan,” George agreed. “Y’know Ringo, dead or not, I’m glad you’re here to keep me company; would’ve been rather lonely just walking around on my own.”
“At least you’ve got your instrument,” Starr replied. “Can you imagine walking around alone without that? Even in a place like this, its torture.”
“Well, let’s see if we can find them, shall we?”
The two friends, happy with their reunion, started walking through the fields in some random direction, looking for anything at all. Regardless of what they would or would not find, they would at least stop each-other from going totally insane. The one thing they failed to notice while searching was a distant cloud in the sky; with a blue Pegasus spying on them from on top of it.
Author's Note
First of all, I want to make it clear that Paul and Ringo are not dead yet. (Unless you believe the 'Paul is dead' conspiracy).
Thank you for reading, and please give some feedback!
Helicopters are some of the most difficult machines to operate. It’s not like a plane where you can cruise in a straight line for the most part, there is much more to it than that; such as stopping, sliding and turning left and right. Bad weather only makes it more difficult, which makes England a bad place for these flying machines. Add in the darkness of night and you have all the factors that came together to contribute to the death of a famous musician.
All in all, you can never truly tell where someone will go when they pass on. You also can’t tell what it will be like. Could be this place or that, fast or slow. In Sir McCartney’s case, there was no idea where; as to how, it was instant. A quick shut of the eyes, and it was like falling asleep after a long day.
“Paul.”
And who wakes someone up at this time of the day, anyways?
“Paul, is that you?”
Of course it was him; who else would it be.
“Paul, what are you doin’ in my dream,” the voice echoed. “Paul, wake up!”
His dream? Obviously whoever was talking to him was dense. Maybe some loon of a fan broke in while high on drugs. But there was something familiar about the voice though; like that of one he had not heard in years, decades even. The best way to solve this was to open his eyes and find out.
“Bah, what?”
Paul opened his eyes slowly and was confronted by a familiar face, as well as a thick forest.
“John!?”
“That’s me,” Lennon replied. “Now are you going to answer my question or not?”
“Q-question?”
“Yea, what are you doing in my dream?”
“Dream? No, no this can’t be your dream; it’s got to be mine,” Paul stuttered out, standing up.
“What do you mean it can’t be mine? Course it’s mine!”
“No, John you’re dead!” Paul blurted out, rather bluntly.
“Dead? What’s that supposed to mean?”
“As in no longer living, John,” Paul said. “Don’t you remember? New York, 1980, you got shot?”
“Shot? That’s ridiculous,” John replied, brushing off the claim. “Who in the world would want to shoot me?”
“A crazy man.”
“Well obviously; but what did I do to him? Did I make him crazy?”
“I don’t know, John; but he really did shoot you all the same!” Paul explained, moving close to make a point.
“Well, who’s to say you’re the one who died?” John asked, crossing his arms.
“What?”
“Maybe you died and your ghost is haunting my dream.”
“But…how would-”
“Is there anything you remember?”
Paul stopped to think, walking back and forth on the leave-covered floor of the forest.
“Ok, I do remember being in a heli, in some bad weather, and somethin’ about the pilot having trouble…I guess, maybe I crashed?”
“Well, maybe that’s it,” John said, shrugging his shoulders as he did so.
“Ok, I’ve tried to remember; but I know you died before me,” Paul said, moving his arms back and forth as if to add to the seriousness. “Think; it happened at the Dakota.”
“The Dakota? Yea, I remember something happenin’. When did you say it was?”
“December, 1980.”
John put his hand on his chin, his expression becoming very worried.
“Yea, I suppose something happened…somewhere.”
“So there’s just as good a chance you’re in my dream.”
“Right…oh bloody…oh no.”
John staggered a bit before sitting on top of a fallen log.
“That means on of us has to be dead,” he said. “We can’t both be in the same dream, can we?”
“I don’t think so, Johnny,” Paul said, taking a seat next to him. “Worst case scenario is that we’re both dead.”
“That’s not much better.”
The two sat there, starring at the ground and fretting over which of the two was a ghost.
“Oi, wait! How could I forget!?” John said, hopping up and jogging over to a thick cluster of trees and shrubs. “I knew there must’ve been a reason this was here!”
“John what are you goin’ on ab-my Höfner!”
Paul’s face lit up like a child’s on Christmas morning. In John’s right hand was his favorite bass, a rare Höfner 500/1. The other one held an acoustic guitar for Lennon himself. In a flash, all his worries evaporated for a minute.
“Aye, and it looks to be in good shape, too,” John said, handing it over and taking his seat. “I don’t know why I didn’t immediately think of you when I saw it.”
“At least we’ve got something to keep us busy,” Paul said gleefully, strumming each of the strings in a test.
“Yea,” John agreed. “So…your little crash, what year was that?”
“2013.”
“You certainly lasted a long time.”
“Well, you were sorta…cheated,” Paul said, choosing his words carefully.
“Possibly cheated,” John corrected him.
“Right,” Paul sighed. “John, honestly, if either of us or dead-”
“Or both of us,” John corrected him.
“Right, or both of us, I’m glad you’re here,” Paul said. “Dead or not, I’m glad to talk to an old friend again.”
“Here here,” John agreed.
“I really did feel bad y’know; never even got to say goodbye.”
“What say we leave the sob stories for later,” John said, strumming out a few notes.
“Sounds good to me.”
“Paul, have you noticed that you’re younger?” John asked, looking back to him. “You look like you popped out of 1969.”
“What, why didn’t you tell me that earlier!?” Paul exclaimed, jumping up and looking over himself. “And my clothes, when did these get on me!?”
“I thought you were a dream, remember?” John said, standing up as well.
“That’s why I didn’t tell you!”
“Wha-you mean I’m young, too!?”
“Yea, same as me; some time in the late 60s.”
“Well I’ll be,” John said. “Hey, try your voice!”
“Two-Two…offff ussss. Blimey, even that’s gone backwards!” Paul exclaimed.
“You act like that’s a bad thing!” John said happily. “Now come on, let’s explore a little. Turning back into your younger self with an old friend is an once-in-a-lifetime adventure!”
“Explore? Where are we supposed to even start, John?”
“That little path, obviously; seeing as how it’s the only one here.”
“Alright then, explorers we are,” Paul sighed.
“Oh now come on Columbus, this could be fun,” John said, starting down the small dirt trail. “Besides, you gave me an idea of how to pass the time!”
“Angel, how many times has momma asked you not to run off into the woods?” Fluttershy asked the bunny as the two walked back towards the forest trail. “Do you know what kind of animals could be running around in here? They could eat you up if you weren’t careful!”
The bunny simply rolled his eyes and shook his head, indicating ‘no’. Though he did know what was in here, as he had done this plenty of times before, it would probably be easier to just act like he still didn’t know. It was easier than saying ‘yes’ and having to explain going in anyways.
“There’s tons of kinds that could eat you,” Fluttershy explained as they neared the path. “There’s the manticores, and the timberwolves, and the-”
“-Riding somewhere,
Spending someone’s,
Hard earned pay.”
“John, knock it off!” a voice from a short ways down the trail ordered.
“Eep!”
Fluttershy instinctively dove into a nearby bush, dragging Angel with her. Though she probably did not have to be this skittish, it might have been better for her to hide this time. With her eyes fixed on the road from her hiding place; she was presented with two odd, bi-pedal creatures walking down the road.
“I’ve…never seen anything quite like that before,” she whispered.
“Two of us sending postcards,
Writing letters,
On my wall.”
“Come on, John!” one of them pleaded.
“Paul, don’t tell me you’ve lost your singing spirit!” the other said. “Who’dve thought; the great Paul McCartney, losing the love of song!”
“Oh, now you’re just being cruel!” he laughed.
“Well then sing; Mr. Golden Voice,” the first one chuckled. “Or did you just forget this one.”
“Alright, from the top then,” the second one replied. “One, two, three.”
The two continued down the road and out of sight, finishing their song. Out of all the animals she had taken care of, Fluttershy had never seen any quite so strange. She also had to admit that she had never heard music quite like that before. Of course, Equestria had music; but, there was nothing quite like that.
Quietly crawling out of her hiding spot and onto the road, she did what any sensible pony would do in this situation; she followed them. Of course, she kept her distance and did not utter a single noise; she still had no idea what these things were. Hopefully, they were nice, which they seemed to be at first glance. Normally she would just go straight home, but something told her to keep an eye on them; they were going in the direction of her cottage anyways.
Author's Note
I miss John and George...
Anyways, thanks fore reading! Please leave a comment to give some feedback; it's always useful.
Hello, Goodbye
“Well, this is certainly…interesting,” Twilight commented, looking at the drum set. “Spike, did somepony stop by and leave this here?”
“No, they just sorta…appeared,” the dragon claimed.
“Spike, a set of drums doesn’t just ‘appear’, they were either left here or teleported; I just don’t know who would send me these, I can’t play them.”
“Were they teleported here by accident?”
“I don’t think so,” Twilight said. “But like I said, things like this don’t appear for any reason; there’s got to be something that caused this.”
As Twilight was thinking, the door flew open, followed a loud crashing sound. The once organized books were scattered every which-way across the floor. She knew who it was, and wondered if Rainbow would ever learn not to come crashing through her door at full speed like this.
“Ugh, Rainbow; again?”
“No time!” the Pegasus cried, picking up Twilight and flying her out the door. “You won’t believe what I saw!”
“First of all, put me down!” Twilight yelled, to which Rainbow agreed. “Now, what did you see that was so important?”
“Aliens!”
Twilight stared at her like something was seriously wrong.
“Well, you’re right; I don’t believe you,” Twilight replied.
“I knew you wouldn’t, that’s why I have to bring you there!”
“Rainbow, if this is another one of your pranks-”
“It’s not, I promise,” Rainbow assured her.
“Alright, just tell me where they are and I can teleport there.”
“Last I saw them they were heading towards the entrance of the Everfree.”
With a flash of light, both of them were gone.
“How old were you again?” George asked.
“Seventy-Two,” Starr replied.
“Well, it’s nice to know you and Paul had a good long time after me and John left.”
Ringo stopped on the trail at the end of the field, which was also the entrance to a thick forest.
“George, you mind if I ask how you’re taking this so lightly?”
“I guess ‘cause I expected it,” Harrison answered. “You, Paul’s, and John’s all seem to’ve been rather sudden, to say the least.”
It did not take much thought for Ringo to understand he was right; George only lived as long as he did because the would-be assassin that tried to stab him to death was interrupted by his wife’s intervening. It was unfortunate they were unable to stop the cancer growths that came with it. But, at least he was able to live a couple years longer.
Indeed the band members seemed to have a bit of a curse about them concerning their sudden endings, with John being shot dead by a deranged fan and George attacked by a man who claimed the Beatles had been ‘witches’. No doubt another psychopath out there had thought of doing the same to the other two. If anything, he could be glad they were spared the gruesome endings.
“Actually, you gave me an idea just now,” George said.
“What?”
“Well, if we are dead and here, and both Paul and John passed on too, maybe they’re also in the land.”
“You really think they could be here?” Ringo asked, surprised by this.
“I don’t see why not; I guess anyone could be here, from what we know at least.”
“Anyone? You think our families or-”
George immediately held up his hand, indicating silence.
“You hear that?”
“Hear what?”
“Keep quiet and listen; it’s something. It sounds like some sort of tune!”
Ringo quieted himself and listened closely.
“Aye, there is someone singing!” he said.
“And the tune;…duh duh duh duuuh duuh…Ringo, that’s one of ours!”
“Our songs?”
“Yes, ‘Two of Us’; I remember now, that was one of the last ones we did!”
“If someone’s singing our song, and we’re the only ones here…” Ringo shook his head. “George, you really think it could be?”
“Let’s sit tight and watch, it sounds like it’s coming our way,” George suggested. “That’ll give us answers; maybe not the ones we think, but some answers none the less.”
George did that, sitting down on the dirt trail. As he watched the forest entrance intently, he found himself subconsciously picking out the chords to the song, and only really noticed it when the song ended. It brought back memories doing that; many bad, but many more good.
The song ended, and the two sitting people could hear footsteps and voices. The voices indeed sounded very familiar, almost ghostly. Even before the unknown vocalists turned the corner and exited into the bright, clear day, it was clear just who they were.
The two stepped out of the dark, thick woods and into the revealing sunlight. They immediately stopped, wide eyed and starring at the two figures sitting patiently on the ground. The sitter’s expressions, in turn, were only slightly less shocked.
“H-Harrison?” John sputtered out. “George…is that…is that really you?”
“That’s who I am; and before you ask, this is indeed Ringo” George responded, slowly getting back up. “And are you really you, John?”
Lennon shook his head in an attempt to wave off the confusion.
“Yea, I’m me; but what are you two doin’ here?”
“Well, I figured you two would’ve sorted that out just as we did,” George said. “John, Paul, we’re all dead right now.”
“Presumably dead,” Paul spoke up, finally breaking out of his own state of shock. “We’ve made the theory that we’re all presumably dead.”
“Paul, I think we all need to accept this,” Ringo said. “I remember you died a few hours before I did; it was a helicopter crash. You must remember too, right?”
“I-I thought it was a bad dream; I thought this was a dream!”
“I’m sorry Paul, but we’re all goners,” Harrison said. “I was hoping it was just a bad dream at first, too; but now that I see John’s here, and we’re all thinking it’s a dream, I can assure you that none of us are dreaming.”
“No…no no no!” Paul yelled, reality finally catching up to him. “Then why are we here? I mean, I knew I was going to die someday, and I didn’t know what was commin’ after, but why here? What’s the point of it!?”
“Paul, calm down,” Ringo said. “At least we’re not alone.”
“I know that, but what about everyone else we cared about!?” he said, stumbling back a bit to rest against a tree. “What about my folks? What happened to them? What about Linda? Are they in the…other place!?”
Paul finally broke down, burying his face in his hands. His back slid down the tree trunk and he fell to the ground. All sorts of thoughts slapped his mind at once, and it broke him into tears; the hard crying diluting any coherent sentences. Only a few clear words got through his mouth; those of ‘Mom’, ‘Dad’, and his most constant slurring of ‘Linda’.
“I’m sorry, Paul,” George said, which got no real reply. “lad’s let’s give Paul a few minutes to sort things out.”
As the trio went back to talking, Paul kept sobbing at the tree line. George’s intentions, good willed or not, were not the best answers. Paul did not need solitude, he needed someone to talk to; someone he could work with to try and figure all these paranoid, confused thoughts out. But for a short time, he was left to wallow alone.
“Are you alright?” a soft voice asked. “You aren’t hurt, are you?”
Paul stopped at hearing this new voice; it was not from the boys, it sounded more feminine. Tearing his face out of his hands, his vision cleared to slowly reveal a shape that surprised him more than anything else he had seen today.
It was an animal; something that looked more akin to a horse, and it was yellow. It was small, too; standing up to match his current height slouched on the grass. A small, cream-yellow horse with light pink hair, just sat there staring. Oddest of all, it seemed to wear a most concerned look on its face.
“I-I heard your talk; I’m really sorry,” it said. “Are you ok?”
Paul immediately sobered up. On top of everything, this strange horse-like creature could talk; this thing was intelligent! But, strangely, he was not very scared; it was far from threatening. He was confused greatly, but he was not losing his mind. The animal had a strange calming presence about it.
“You can speak?” Paul asked quietly. “What are you?”
“A pony; my name is Fluttershy.”
“Well it’s…nice to meet you, I suppose,” he answered. “I’m Paul, a human.”
“Paul, that’s an interesting name.”
“I could say the same about yours,” he said, causing her to giggle a bit.
“I guess it makes sense…I’ve never seen anything like you before.”
“Same here,” Paul replied.
Checking over his shoulder quickly, he noticed the other three were still entangled in their own conversation.
“I was listening to your talk with your friends; I’m really sorry about what happened.”
“Yea, it’s alright,” Paul replied, hanging his head. “It’s not like you can save lives you didn’t even know existed.”
“I guess when you put it that way…”
“You didn’t do anything, Fluttershy; I just met you,” Paul assured her. “But if you don’t mind my asking, why were you spying on us.”
“Oh-uh, I saw you and your other friend on the road…and I really enjoyed your singing…so…”
He saw her blush deepen as she hid behind her mane.
“I’m flattered,” he responded. “I was a musician back when I was alive, y’know.”
“Really?”
“Yea, all of us were; we used to be real big-”
Their own conversation was interrupted by a round of screams. Paul could recognize some as coming from the others, but there was another set. The new ones sounded like they belonged to girls, as well.
Getting up quickly, he swung around to see the other three band members yelling at two more ponies; but these looked very different. One was light blue with colorful hair; it also seemed to have wings, as it was floating where it was. The other was purple, and closer inspection revealed what looked like a horn. Did pegasi and unicorn exist here?
“What the bloody hell are those!?” John yelled.
“I don’t know!” George replied, breaking his perfect calmness run.
“What are you waiting for, Twilight!?” Rainbow yelled. “Blast them!”
“Jesus, blast us!?” Ringo cried. “Just what’d we do!?”
“C’mon Twilight, they could be getting ready to attack!”
Twilight, being pressured with a situation she thought for sure was fake at first, impulsively aimed her horn at the group; still, she showed restraint.
“Twilight!”
“George, tackle that thing!” John commanded.
“What? We need to run!” he replied. “Where’s Paul-”
“STOP!”
Everything came to a screeching halt and everyone turned to see Fluttershy standing in-between the two groups.
“Um, girls…they, uh, aren’t really bad.”
“What?” Rainbow asked. “But…they look mean.”
“Well…that doesn’t really-”
“We’re not here to hurt you guys,” Paul announced, re-joining his group. “We’re just sort of stuck here.”
Twilight relaxed, returning to normal.
“So, you’re not hostile?”
“Far from it,” Paul assured her.
“And…you’re real aliens!?”
“To you all, I suppose.”
“Oh yes!” Twilight exclaimed, jumping up and down. “Yes! Yes! Yes! First contact with an alien life form; not just that, but intelligent, too!”
The four humans watched the pony jump about, not exactly sure of what to say.
“Oh, I’ve got so many questions for you! Wait, not here; we need to go back to the library first,” Twilight said. “Do you have any kind of reactions to teleportation?”
“Not that I know of-wait teleport…what?” Paul asked.
“Good, hang on.”
The entire group popped into the library in a flash. The four humans seemed a bit dizzy from the sudden transport; but after a quick check they found everything was where it should be, including their instruments. They were also surprised by how little the ponies were affected.
“Blimey-ah,” John said, rubbing his forehead. “Please don’t do that without tellin’ us next time.”
“Sorry,” Twilight replied. “I’m just a little anxious.”
“Hey Twilight, did you find out who left that instrument here?” Spike’s voice called from the kitchen as he came into the room. "Whoa, what are those?"
"We're aliens," Paul replied with a chuckle. "And you're obviously a lizard."
"I'm a dragon!" he replied. "I'm just...little."
"Yea, dragon; still a lizard," Paul said. "Hey, what'd you say about an instrument?"
"There was a set of drums that just sort of fell in here earlier today; I just moved them upstairs."
Ringo immediately gained interest at the mentioning of ‘drums’.
“Oi, you have drums here?” he asked.
“Yea, I don’t know who left them,” Twilight said. “Hang on, I’ll float them downstairs.”
Ringo watched as she did so; eyes gleaming with happiness at seeing his instrument.
“Do these belong to you?” she asked, gently setting them on the floor.
“Yes! Thank you!”
Ringo immediately ran over to take a seat. He also noticed he was lucky enough to get a pair of drum sticks along with them. He tested each piece of the set and, satisfied they were all in perfect condition, tapped out a short tune.
“So you can all play instruments?” Twilight asked over Ringo’s playing.
“Yep, I play the bass,” Paul explained. “John and George both played guitar.”
Twilight took out a quill and paper and jotted down a note.
“Ok, so your names are John, Paul…George, and uh…Ringo, right?”
“That’s it,” John said with a smile.
“I’m Twilight Sparkle,” she introduced herself. “The blue pegasus is Rainbow Dash.”
“What’s up?” she asked. “And sorry about calling you mean earlier and trying to shoot you.”
“It’s fine,” Paul dismissed the concern.
“And that one over there is Fluttershy, if you didn’t already meet.”
“Hi,” she whispered softly.
“But now that we’ve met each other, can we get back to the questions?” Twilight asked anxiously.
“I suppose we can,” John said.
“Ok, firstly-”
“Hey Twilight!”
The door flew open and a fourth pony entered. This one was pink, hair and all, and had a massive smile on her face. She let out an audible gasp when she saw the humans.
“Are these the aliens I heard about?” she asked, getting in their faces. “Hi! I’m Pinkie Pie!”
“Pinkie, why are…how did you even hear about these guys before!? We just met them,” Twilight asked.
Pinkie ignored her, preferring to bombard the musicians with a series of her own questions.
“You’re not from around here? Do you know anypony? How’d you get here? What are-mhmph!”
John put his hand over her running mouth, scared she might bight it for a minute.
“One question at a time please, missy.”
“M’kay,” she muffled.
The instrument hanging from him caught her attention.
“Hey what’s this?”
“My guitar,” John replied simply, plucking a few strings.
“You play music?” Pinke gasped. “Could you play a song? Please please please!?”
John looked over to the others, who simply shrugged their shoulders.
“Gee, it’s been a while…but I think we could.”
“Yay!”
“B-but, what about my questions?” Twilight asked, obviously irritated.
“Don’t worry, I’m sure there’ll be time to answer your when the song is done,” Pinkie assured her. “Besides, don’t you want to know what it sounds like?”
“It’s really nice,” Fluttershy quietly piped up.
“Uh, fine; one song for scientific observations,” she consented. “Whenever you guys are ready.”
The four band members found individual seats in the room; with Paul and John on the couch and George in a chair. The four ponies and one dragon gathered around them, forming a small audience. Two were noticeably more eager than the others.
For the humans, it was an awkward experience. Having just realized they died and met their old band in a world inhabited by magical ponies in a matter of hours, they now found themselves playing together again for these ponies, and a baby dragon. It was not exactly how the famed Beatles reunion was thought to have happened. Still, they all had to admit they caught a few nostalgic feelings.
“Just like old times, huh George?” Paul asked, to which George nodded in confirmation.
“It feels kind of nice,” John said. “Like seein’ the family again after a long trip.”
“We had a good deal more fights than any family,” Ringo commented.
“And we accomplished a lot, too,” he replied. “But let’s save the soul-searchin’ for later, huh? Which song should we play?”
“Blackbird?” Paul asked.
“No, I’d like it to be something that makes an impression; something appropriate for the particular situation.”
“Aye, I see what you mean.”
"Hold up," George said. "Twilight, my guitar uses electricity; do you have amplifiers or something like that?"
"Um...no, but I know a spell that could both electrify it and make it sound the way it should without one."
George raised his eyebrows in surprise.
"That's great! Guys, I've got it!"
George suddenly hopped up and grabbed them all into a rather spaced-out huddle; whispering a suggestion before letting them go.
“Nice call, George!” Ringo said. “That work for you lads?”
“I’m up for it!” Lennon said.
“Yea, that’ll do fine,” Paul agreed.
“Aright lads, let’s make a good first impression,” John said. “One, two, three, four.”
Author's Note
R.I.P. John Lennon (December 8th, 1980).
Thank you again for reading! Please leave some feedback so I can get an idea of what you think.
