Escape of the Nerk Twins

Chapter XVII

Paul is working with Rihanna and Kanye West, so I have renounced all former claims of ownership of the Beatles.

A/N: First, we're nearing the end of this story. It's going to be 21 chapters long. However, I do have another long story in the works, called "Murder Most Discreet," which I'll start posting when this story ends. Second, thanks to the as of yet unknown "Guest" for the disclaimer idea :0) Third, thanks so much to all my other reviewers: FanFiction - leah9712, Macca's Little Teddy Bear, Swimmer girl 17, and the aforementioned "Guest"; WattPad - InmylifeIloveLennon, Macca40, Marvel_is_best, MasterofFire, and cityofstarlight.

John woke up suddenly. He wasn't sure how much time had passed since he'd fallen asleep. The only indicator of the passage of time was the moonlight now streaming in through the Gothic-arched windows.

John, now wide awake, groped blindly next to his pillow for his glasses. His calloused fingers stroked along the cool flagstone before bumping against the spectacles' smooth, plastic frames. He shoved the glasses onto his face, sat up, and looked around.

There. In a small doorway in the corner, which John and Paul hadn't seen earlier, John saw a small, pale flash of movement, like a stray bit of white garment flicking after a person in a hurry. John turned to look at his friend.

"Paul?" he whispered. Nothing happened. Paul continued to breathe deeply, fully immersed in a dream world.

John slid quietly out of his sleeping bag and padded to the doorway, which was arched like the windows. He peered in.

It was not another derelict room as he had supposed, but a staircase – a narrow, steep, spiral stair. John began to ascend.

The steps were worn smooth by countless feet; they curved down in the middle and slanted downward there, where people had stepped the most. There was no handrail, so John clung to the cracks in the stone walls, his fingers sinking into the earthy moss and lichen that grew within.

A couple of times, John slipped and nearly fell, but each time he regained his balance. Finally, silver moonlight began to pour down the stairs, oozing down them like liquid silver.

John hurried up the last half-twist of the tight spiral and clambered up, out onto the top of the tower.

Awestruck, John spun in a circle, trying to take in the whole view, not even bothering to comprehend it. In the east, John looked back across the hills and dark forests he and Paul had driven through and would drive through; he could see the road, a light strip coming from the east and curving back, around the hill opposite the castle, in the direction from which it had come.

A tiny strip of pale yellow light hung over the edges of the hills. More trees and desolate empty spaces stretched on interminably in the south. John couldn't see a single artificial light poking out warmly in the wilderness.

To the west, the full moon hung pregnantly just above the loch, scattering its beams across the water to where John stood. And the lake –

John gasped at the stars. Millions of brilliant pinpricks of light shone up from the perfectly still lake in the north and west. The moon sat, fulsome and beautiful, at the western end of this great spectacle. The hills beyond the lake were a tiny, insignificant shadow, all that separated water from sky.

John tipped his head back, grasping the crumbling stone crenellations for support. The velvety sky, receding into a deep blue in the east, was spangled with innumerable diamonds, bright snatches of light that could have been, at that moment, strewn across the cosmos by some great, otherworldly being. It was enough to convince even John Lennon of a god for one crucial second.

John's grin was so wide he wondered how his face could maintain it. Laughing, he extended his arms to his sides, and spun in a circle, earth and sky blurring into one great, beautiful image of peace.

He was interrupted midway through his spin by a hand on his shoulder. Reluctantly, he tipped his head back down to humanity.

"What the hell were you thinking?" yelled Paul, grasping John's other shoulder and shaking him.

"My God, it's gorgeous," breathed John, gesturing around him at the scene.

"Could've been killed . . . not safe, staircase is a nightmare . . . no self-preservation," stuttered Paul, tripping over his own words in his anger and worry.

"Let's stay and watch the sunrise," said John. "Now we're already up here."

"Okay," replied Paul. "Just promise me never to pull a stunt like this again."

John smiled. "Okay, Macca."

They sat cross-legged on the cool flagstones of the tower and stared at the sky. They were the sole witnesses as the first golden rays peeked out from behind the hills in the east, dazzling away the stars. The moon escaped, into the lake it seemed, as the firey orb in the east subsumed the velvet night that lay before it. And so the sun rose, and a new day began.

A/N: If you could combine elements from all sorts of creatures, what would your ideal farm animal look like? Tell the world in your comment below!