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Long Lost John (standard:fantasy, 1987 words)
Author: JLennongrrlAdded: Aug 25 2001Views/Reads: 2852/1897Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
John Lennon visits a fan and gives her a message from beyond the grave.

"I tell ya Christine, something is weird about this tour," Tammy says to
her friend as she stares at the courier in front of them. She had been 
having an odd feeling ever since they had arrived in Liverpool, but it 
had gotten much stronger when they had started this tour. She couldn't 
help but to feel like something was about to happen. 

"Tammy! For the last time, the only thing weird about this entire thing
is you! Now be quiet, you're just freaking out." Her friend knew 
something was up, she could feel it herself; but she did not want to 
admit it. Christine had known her long enough to know whenever Tammy 
had intuitive feelings about these things, they turned out to be right 
on the money. "Oh well, I'll just keep my eyes open," she thought to 
herself, putting Tammy's words out of her mind. 

"Ladies and gentlemen, our first stop is going to be at the boyhood home
of Paul McCartney," the courier explained as they stopped outside of a 
two-story stucco building. The walkthrough of the house took about 
twenty minutes; but after about ten minutes, Tammy was already bored. 
She started to say something about it to Christine, but knew she would 
die a most untimely death. This house was like the holy land for her, 
so her concentration best not be broken...especially by Tammy's 
whining. As the courier kept talking, Tammy soon realized that Paul and 
the Beatles were not the Gods that many perceived them to be, but 
normal men. 

After the jaunt into Paul's house, the jet lag and boredom caught up to
Tammy, and she fell asleep. Little did she know, she slept through the 
showing of the school John went to, and the site of the Cavern Club. 

"Wake up sweetheart, you're going to miss it," a voice whispered into
her ear. Who was that?? Certainly not Christine. Last she checked, 
Christine did not sound like a man. But the voice was so familiar. 

When she opened her eyes, she saw that the bus had cleared out, and they
were parked in front of Aunt Mimi's house on Mendips Avenue. John's 
house. A feeling of great serenity swept over her as she gazed at the 
house. Then, she saw the person who had woke her. 

"Now I know I'm going insane," she whispers to herself as she watches
the man's back disappear into the house. The man stood about six foot 
nine, and had shoulder length reddish brown hair. He was wearing a 
striped jacket, a scarf, and a black hat with feathers in it. "Get a 
hold of yourself, Tammy. John's dead and that's definitely not him. 
You've just seen Magical Mystery Tour one too many times. Get out of 
the bus and go find Christine," she says as she walks towards the door. 
Yet again, the feeling that something was about to happen sweeps over 

"I remember when mum started coming back around, she and Mimi would have
tea at that table and talk for hours," the man said to himself as Tammy 
walked timidly into the building. As soon as she walked in, she could 
notice something conspicuously absent from the building. The rest of 
the people taking the tour. Other than that, the only thing that was 
weird was that she was looking at John Lennon in the flesh. 

"That couldn't be," Tammy thinks as she stares at John. Before she could
notice, she trips on a rumpled piece of rug and lands firmly in the 
floor. "Way to go clumsy ass." 

"Oh don't be so hard on yourself, I always tripped on it when I was
little. I was a clumsy lad," John says to her and lifts her up off of 
the floor. All she could do was stare into his smiling face with a look 
of pure shock. It isn't every day that your dead idol speaks to you. 

"You''re...." She mutters, her mouth unwilling to form a

"Yeah...I'm John Lennon." A sharp squeak was the only response Tammy
could give as he got up and started walking up the stairs. "Well come 
on, I haven't all day. You still have to see the rest of the house," he 
says and motions to her to follow him. 

The house was small, but infinitely more interesting than Paul's house
had been. Paul's house had looked very museum-like, and almost dead; 
but John's house had a very odd look to it. It looked like it was 

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