I'm Looking Through You -Mclennon

Chapter 7

John

John Lennon sat on a rickety old stool, solemnly strumming on his guitar. He was situated in his favourite spot in the house, right at the very top, in an empty room none of the previous households had ever really used.

From here, he could view the entire street, but that was as close as he could get to the outdoors, being eternally bound to the house and all. John cursed his death for the millionth time, feeling utterly useless. His thoughts wandered over to Paul, the fascinating "modern boy" as John liked to think of him as, had been plaguing his mind the past couple days.

He wasn't sure why Paul was particularly special, there had been plenty of boys and girls his age living here, but they always felt intrusive. Paul felt right, like he belonged in the old tattered house.

Paul

Because he had spent most of the day before unpacking, and trying to restore some order in the decaying building, Paul had been granted permission to explore the neighbourhood.

Now this excited him endlessly, because if there's one thing Paul likes, after ghosts, classic rock, art, cats and guitar, it's exploring. So as soon as he was dressed, the boy darted down two flights of stairs (cringing as he half expected to fall through them) and out the door.

The street wasn't very busy, he saw a young woman with a pram and an old couple sitting on a bench, but other than that, no one. Good. Paul noticed that all of the other houses in the street appeared to be in much better condition than his own. He remembered his father mentioning that. They hadn't been able to afford a more up-kept home, so that had left the rather dark, daunting building that Paul was already growing to love.

He soon discovered that there really wasn't much of anything in this neighbourhood, nothing like compared to his old one, with cafes and skate parks, and ordinary parks. Just a small convenience store that was falling apart just like his house, with graffiti sprawled across the walls and a grubby expanse of greenery next to it.

Paul decided he didn't like that area and began to make his way back home, feeling rather disappointed with his expedition. Never mind, he would explore his house instead, since there were still a few undiscovered rooms left to be found.

He was on one of the higher floors, where his father had told the boy not to bother with, when Paul heard a noise, and it sounded suspiciously like guitar. As he got closer to the staircase, the sound became clearer. Oh my god I love that song.

Paul's ears were filled with the floating melody of "Love Me Tender," one of his favourite Elvis songs. He felt giddy and began to ascend the stairs, wondering if it really was the strange, dead boy he'd met a couple nights ago.

Paul's fingers traced the door handle and he stood there for a few seconds, letting the music flow through him, before abruptly swinging the door open, only to find an empty room.

If tumbleweed could have possibly bumbled past, it would have. A slight breeze wafted through and the only object in sight was a rickety old stool.