“Imagine all the people……living life in peace……”
The music of the dead floated on the still, cold December air. It followed her and a voice in her mind whispered, Sandi, you were mine once…but now I’m gone and we can’t be together as friends or lovers anymore. But you know what, girl? You’re still mine. Mine in life, mine in death. You can never escape.
“Please, please, don’t!” she cried out and fell to her knees and shielded her face with her hands, as if warding off some invisible force. Feet pounded on the sidewalk and she felt arms around her, lifting her up.
“Come ’ead, then, luv,” a soft male voice murmured, with a Liverpudlian accent, or were her ears deceiving her? “I think she’s fainted. Bring her to the fire.”
She felt the voice’s owner help lift her and there were a few others helping her. She felt something warm on her face and ventured to open her eyes. She was standing in front of a small fire a few yards away from the Dakota, John’s residence, and she was leaning against the man with the Liverpudlian accent. She looked up into his eyes, her heart beating wildly, and for a split second, John’s hazel eyes, and auburn hair were in the face looking into hers and then they changed shape and the hazel coalesced into brown, green, gray, and gold with long lashes and suddenly she beheld John’s best friend Paul McCartney.
“Oh, Paul…” she whispered, tears running down her cheeks. “No, no…!”
The face changed again and she saw that it was really a freckled youth of twenty with green eyes and red hair.
Her eyes widened and she struggled to free herself from the stranger. “Oh, please, no, sir! Please let me go!”
He released her and tried to help her steady herself, but she fell on her knees again and pushed his hands away, standing up on her own, seeing the Dakota as she did so. She moaned in mental anguish and pulled away from the helping people, mourning for John. Please help me, wherever you are! Please! A pain in her heart that she’d felt only distantly after John’s passing called out, Where are you, Paul?
“What’s with her?” someone said as Sandi ran away, her head turned away from what was once John’s home. No one answered and they went back to sitting in front of the fire, grieving over John, as a friend of John and Paul’s limped out of their lives.
John! John! Oh, God help me! Paul, I’m sorry! Can you hear me? I’m sorry!
She was running blindly down the sidewalk, people jumping aside to let her pass, startled.
Oh, Paul…how are you doing?
How do you think he’s doing, Sandi, having his best friend ripped from him like that?
Yeah…like losing a limb.
No, Sandi, another voice spoke within her mind and it echoed in her heart. No, luv. That pain goes away. This will rage on for the rest of Paul’s life.
Tears streamed down her cheeks and she kept running, choking with sobs.
“Lady! What’s wrong wit’ you?” A man stopped her, grabbing her by the arms.
“Let me go, sir!” she managed to say, crying stormily.
“No, lady. I’m gonna take you home. You shudden be out like this, ma’am.” He held her for a moment as he hailed a taxi. She broke free and took off.
“What’s up with her?” said the cabbie that had pulled up.
“I dunno. Tried to ’elp ’er…”
“Prob’ly crying over some guy,” the cabbie sniffed. “You gettin’ in, mister?”
Copyright 2000 and beyond: Lissa Michelle Supler. This is original copyrighted work and may not be reproduced in any form, by any means, without the permission of the author. Permission may be obtained by e-mail.
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Background courtesy of Vic "the Slick"