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6: Poetry

Chapter Six: Poetry

The wind swirled into the room and ruffled John's hair. It wrapped itself around Paul, refreshing him. The green hospital gown flew lightly on the air and the window's two glass shutters slammed open. Amazingly, nothing broke.

The wind blew into the room harder and stronger and shrieked in Paul's ears. It somehow seemed to wrap around his ankles and pull him closer to the open window.

"What the...?" Paul said, but his voice died away as the wind put out an invisible hand and lifted his chin to look out the window.

His room had a view over London, towards the Thames River. As he looked out, the buildings seemed to be less there and anything green really stood out. The sky, instead of being its normal hue, was the colour of a bluish-black-gray watercolour streak that faded into a light blue. The room's lights suddenly turned off as he saw---

---Lights outside of all colours---red, orange, yellow, blue, etc.---twinkling in the darkest and uppermost part of the sky. They seemed close and looked as if they were hovering in the air.

"Ohh..." Paul whispered in a mysterious delight.

The lights were blinding, yet beautiful and bewitching. His gaze never faltered from these beautiful circles of radiance.

The wind blew even harder, but cooler this time, taking the colour out of Paul's face, the lights making him seem whiter than he was.

The hospital gown was gone and Paul was in black slacks and an open white dress shirt. He didn't feel the change so he did not look at himself.

All he could say was, "My dear God, it's so beautiful!"

And then he collapsed onto the floor.
"What in the bloody hell...?"

George's voice reverberated in John's ears and he moaned.

"Shurrup, George; can't you see me 'n' Paul are tryin' to get a bit of sleep?!" John shifted position in the chair, eyes still closed, and pulled the blanket tighter around his shoulders. "And shut that winder, it's bloody cold in here!"

"And no wonder," came Ringo's voice, quite soft. "John, get up!"

John turned towards the voices and opened his bloodshot eyes.

"Will you two quit---what the hell's wrong with Paul?!?"

John was instantly up and hauling Paul to the bed, when he suddenly stopped and lifted Paul into the chair. He went to the window and gently pushed Ringo aside, who was closing it.

The wind, which had subsided into a cool breeze, picked up its speed again and this time shrieked in John's ears.

Ringo crouched near Paul, checking on him and George stood to the side of the window, watching John.

John threw his arms out wide and tilted his head back. He was suddenly bathed in all the colours of the rainbow and a beam of white light shone on him and the unconscious Paul.

George peeked out the window and saw the beautiful sky-lights and also saw that they were getting brighter...and brighter...
The colour was completely gone from John's face and his brown slacks and pink shirt, with that pop, had changed into black slacks and a white shirt, fluttering open...just like Paul's...

George dashed forward, thinking that John was going to fall.

John's knees buckled and his eyes closed, but he pushed away George's hands.

With his eyes still closed, he walked over to Ringo and Paul and pulled Paul up with his hands under Paul's arms. He dragged him to the spot they had both stood in, looking out the window: the center of the floor and windowsill.

John's eyes opened, but had a glazed look about them as he carefully laid Paul on the floor, just touching John's feet.

It was actually a bit ludicrous in a way, really.

George felt this, but also felt some force not of this world holding his disgust or/and laughter down.

John stood with Paul at his feet, wreathed in that magnificent white light and spectral mist.

"George," Ringo whispered. "Look at John---look hard."

George studied John's face and then said, "What about him?"

"John's asleep. Can't you tell? He's sleepwalking."

"Then I'm gonna wake 'im up! J---"

Ringo leapt up and clamped a hand over the guitarist's mouth.

"You silly sod!" he exclaimed in a whisper. "You can't wake up someone who's sleepwalking! Just leave him be."

All this talking had taken place within three seconds. John's eyes opened even further and his slumped body suddenly straightened. His chin lifted and he radiated an air of stern authoritic majesty.

And then he spoke.
...Or, rather, someone spoke through him.

"Death stalks you at ev'ry turn
But Life, in form of a child
Shall walk with you, hand-in-hand
But even with her on your side,
A price will be paid."

"John?" George asked loudly, ignoring Ringo's warnings, "John, what're you talking about? Wake up!"

"George, shut up!" But Ringo soon forgot about the threat of George to John's health; he was too wrapped up in the scene at hand.

"Be aware! Death may stalk this child
And your help and love may help her naught.
Defend her with your lives
(As you value your own)
And so shall she for you
But through you she can be caught."

"Who's this kid?" George addressed the heavens. "Why is she so special that we have to protect her with our lives?"

"Shut up, George," Ringo hissed. "Look, it says that she'll do the same for us, so it's all evened out."

**Quite right you are, Mr. Starkey,** a deep male voice replied.

The pair looked up from each other and to John, but John's eyes had closed and he was no longer speaking. They both looked out the window.

**Mr. Harrison,** the voice boomed. **All shall be revealed in its proper time. As the fictitious lawyer Atticus Finch once said, it is not yet time to worry. You will understand that this child is quite important and you may even regret saying what you did when you've been acquainted with her a while.**

"But who is she?" George asked, a little more politely this time, but you could hear a mixture of reverence and irritation in his voice.

**Her name, young man, has been revealed to you in your friend's words---**

"Sir," George replied, "that was not John speaking. I mean, those weren't his words. And the kid can't be Life; Life is in the Lord."

**You are quite intelligent for a young man,** the voice answered approvingly. *It takes some men years to figure that out. As for this child's name being Life, you are quite correct. But she is Life to you, in a figurative sort of way. And yes, young man, Life is in the Lord. I am quite glad you know that.*

"Sir, I have one more question. Who are you?"

**All right, pull the plug, tip top and all that rot, wot?**
The voice was different this time: a female's with a heavy Cockney accent.

**Mr. Harrison,** the first voice began.

"George, just George, please."

**George, it is not important for you to know our names or anything of that sort of identification. We are of Higher Power, sent to talk to you by the Father.**

"The Father?!" George gasped. "Lord, my Father, I beg your forgiveness! I didn't know!"

**It is quite all right, George. You have committed no wrong as in talking to us, except for being inquisitive and that is quite understandable for someone in your position.**

**Ack, quit wit' the fancy talk, eh? Just let me talk to 'im,** came the female voice.

"Ma'am," George said with a deep bow. And everyone thinks Paul has all the manners, he thought to himself. He saw that quickly as a slight and amended it by thinking, Sorry, Paul, mate! No harm intended, luv! Wake up---you're missing out on a lot here!

The female voice seemed to radiate amusement.

**Hullo, George, luv. Look kiddo, don't worry about who we are or any of that. Just concentrate on your mission.**

"Mission?" Both George and Ringo gave an audible gasp.

**Yes, you two duckies, mission. What d'you think your friend John is standin' there spoutin' poetry for? For a lark? The poor boy's tired and I think he'd rather be sleeping comfortably, wot?**

At this, John fell, sleeping peacefully, head pillowed on Paul's stomach.

**As I said, you've got to concentrate on all four of you. Keep on the lookout fer each other. And you've got to extend that lookout to this young gel that'll be joining you soon. She'll be lotsa help to you and she shouldn't burden or hinder you at all. Just open that circle of yours to include her. Take care of yourselves and each other, this child and your mission. I can't promise that you won't have trouble, but as long as you're followin' that poem---the gel will tell you it's real title sometime---and all that, you'll be doin' what's required of yeh.**

"What is this mission, exactly, ma'am?" Ringo asked.

**It ain't time to tell you yet, young'un. We don't know yet, either. We'll be finding out soon and you'll be getting' it, bit by blinkin' bit in this poem. Just you wait an' see.**

**But remember what you've heard tonight, Messrs. Harrison and Starkey,** said the male voice. **You may get a chance to hear those two verses repeated, you may not. And you've got to tell Messrs. Lennon and McCartney of what you've seen and heard, as they will not have seen and heard it. Mr. Lennon will not have any memory of saying the verses and Mr. McCartney will have only remember up until the moment he fell---er, collapsed, uh...**

**I think they get it,** the female said, her voice beginning to fade. **They happen to be two very smart Beatles.**

There was a bit of a laugh from the male and George scanned the sky for any trace of these mysterious beings. There was nothing but the beautiful lights that had called to John and Paul...

"Wait!" George exclaimed. "Are you the lights in the sky?"

The mysterious voices seemed to be taken slightly aback with the question.

**In a way, luv, we are,** the female replied.

**But the lights are also used to say that we are HERE,** the male added. **It's strange that you should call those magnificent beams of colour 'lights.'**

"I beg your pardon, sir and ma'am," George said with a short bow, noticing Ringo looking tickled about something. "But what are they called?"

**We know them as simply 'the Aurora',** the male replied. **They have another name added on, but we just call them 'the Aurora'.**

George almost asked, "Who's 'we'?" but shut his mouth, wondering why Ringo's mouth was violently twitching.

**And also, young George,** said the female.

"Yes, ma'am?" he answered with a bow.

**Don't bow to us! We are only servants of the Father. We are not worthy to be bowed to.**

**We bid you good night, sirs,** the male voice spoke, **and make sure you take very good care of Mr. McCartney and find a way for Mr. Lennon to get some sleep. We will make sure that it is peaceful whenever he manages to get some.**

And with that, they were gone and the lights---the Aurora---faded into the dark sky.

Chapter Seven

Copyright 2000 and beyond: Lissa Michelle Supler/Strawberry Sunshine

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