Gnik Nus

Chapter 1

"She was a Day Tripper, one way ticket yeah! It took me sooooo long to find out, and I found out!" I was prancing around the shopping centre, singing along to The Beatles as Day Tripper played throughout the centre. My favourite band. The greatest band ever. Let's face it, I am obsessed with them. Especially Georgie – he's so cute! Or… was… None of my friends understood. They thought that seventeen year olds should be listening to 'modern music' as they call it, or as I like to call it, crap. Nothing beats The Beatles. NOTHING.

"Sophie!" my Mum was becoming embarrassed by my public antics.
I quieted down, realising that my voice probably wasn't what the other shoppers would like to hear. I just wanted to show off how well I knew the song by singing aloud.
"Right, I've got to go and return this dress," Mum said, "You coming in?"
"I'll just wait here," I told her.
She went into the clothing boutique and I stood outside, waiting. I liked to people-watch. I suddenly caught sight of an elderly man wearing jeans and a Beatles shirt, standing about fifteen metres away. He looked about sixty… and he was staring right at me. He smiled and waved. I looked behind me to see if there was someone in the shop window that he could be waving at but no one was there. I looked at him again and he seemed to chuckle. I had a feeling he knew me somehow, like he was my real grandfather, assuming my existing ones were fake. I didn't feel intimidated or targeted. I actually felt comfortable, so comfortable I waved back, a confused smile on my face. Mum came out of the store then.
"Who are you waving at?" she asked.
"I don't even know," was my response.

That night I was in my room in my pyjamas, dancing around to The Beatles, amongst other stuff. It wasn't just The Beatles that I liked – I liked other stuff too, like Pink Floyd and The Bee Gees and heaps of good stuff, really. I realised it was pretty late. Dad called sternly through my bedroom door, "Go to sleep please."
"I will!" I called back with more force than I intended. I decided to actually get into bed for once (I usually stay up really late fart-arsing around). I closed my eyes and tried to sleep, the sound of the best music in the world acting as my lullaby.

Suddenly, I felt like I was falling. I gripped onto the side of my bed for dear life as if to hold on. I didn't dare open my eyes – I was too scared! But a bright light pierced through my eyelids. Suddenly, the falling sensation stopped and I laid motionless, still with my eyes closed and gripping onto the bed tightly.
"Oi, we got another one," I heard a familiar Liverpudlian accent announce.
"What this time?" another familiar voice asked.
"A fine young bird, she is. Medium length brown hair… sharp nose… and she's hosting Zit City!"
"Oi, that ain't nice."
"I would tell you her eye colour but if only she OPENED HER GODDAMN EYES!"
The forcefulness of his usually serene voice scared me into opening my eyes.
"See… chocolate brown."
"Like yours, ey?"
"Eh, they are a bit like mine."
My biggest crush ever peered into my eyes as if I were some test subject. What I found when I opened my eyes nearly made me faint… George Harrison and John Lennon. How can that be? They're… they're…! I must've looked like I had just seen a ghost – when in reality I had just seen two – and I bolted upright, finding I was in an unfamiliar lounge room with two Beatles. I was lying on a lounge now instead of my familiar bed.
"Wh-?" I couldn't formulate any words.
"I'm assuming you know who we are," John calmly said.
I just stared at them still.
"Yer just like the rest," George laughed.
"Let's take her into the room," John suggested.
"Not yet! Let 'er come round first."

"What year is this?" I finally spoke, choking on my spit.
"1964, love."
1964. I was 48 years in the past.
"How am I here?"
"We'll explain later."
George started helping me up. I complied but my legs felt like jelly. It was a good thing it was slightly chilly where I had just come from (even though it was summer) and I was in a jacket and three-quarter pants, because I would be extremely uncomfortable braless in a tank top and shorts right now. He and John led me into another lounge room where I was shocked to find about eight other people sitting around who looked like they were going to faint as well.
"Now just sit down here and we'll be back soon," John ordered as he let go, forcing George to hold all of my weight. I uncoordinatedly slumped to the ground. John left the room and George winked at me as he followed John out. His wink made my heart flutter. I looked around the room. There was a middle-aged man in 'normal' clothes sitting in an armchair, looking distressed. There was a guy who I guessed was about eighteen sitting leaning against the wall with his legs outstretched. His attire suggested that he was probably from the 80s. There was another guy around his age standing with his arms crossed in the corner of the room. He was wearing a military uniform. There was a blonde girl around my age curled up on the lounge, a distant look in her eyes. She looked pretty modern, like me. There was a lady next to her who looked thirty-odd. She was wearing 60s style clothes, so she couldn't have travelled far, time-wise. There was also an elderly lady sitting in another armchair, hunched over and cradling her handbag. Then there was the most puzzling one… a little boy who looked no older than seven. He was in the middle of the room sitting with his legs crossed.

I decided to be brave and speak up.
"So," I said to the whole room, "Does anyone have any idea what's going on?"
"We're in The Beatles' house," the 60s style woman spoke.
"Yeah, but… why?"
"We have no idea," replied the 80s guy.
The little boy looked upset, so I crawled over to him.
"Hi," I friendlily greeted and he slowly looked up at me, "What's your name?"
"Jack," he softly replied.
"Where are you from?"
"Arkansas."
"You're American? How old are you?"
"Eight."
He was small for his age.
"What year is it where you are from?"
"1993."
"Oh, you're older than me!"
I caught a glimpse of everyone else in the room looking at me in shock.
"You're the only one he's talked to," the 60s lady told me.
"Really?"
"Yeah, he wouldn't talk to anyone else."

"So, who are you?" the 80s guy asked me.
"I'm Sophie. 17. Australia. 2012. You guys?"
"Ben. 19. Seattle. 1984," 80s guy replied.
"Ethel, 68, Cardiff, 2000," the elderly lady croaked.
"Adam, 22, Australia, '71," the military guy introduced. I got a pang of excitement hearing there was another Australian here. From his age, date and attire, I could only assume he was heading off to the Vietnam War.
"Jenny, 30, Sussex, 1963," said 60s lady.
"You haven't travelled far," I commented.
"I know."
"I-I'm Peter, 44. I'm from Auckland, 2022," the distressed middle-aged man mumbled anxiously.
"Really?" I was fascinated that this guy was so close to home, time and location-wise, "Well according to the Mayans the world's apparently supposed to end in two days, but you've just proved that wrong."
"I remember that shit. That means you've just come from December 19, 2012."
"That would be correct."
Everyone went silent. I had been introduced to everyone. All but one… the blonde girl around my age was still and wordless, curled up in a ball on a chair. I looked at her expectantly but Jenny the 60s lady just shook her head at me. Obviously they'd had the same response from her.

I sat down and let it all sink in. I was in 1964. In the house of a Beatle. I had just met John and George… not to mention, seven other people from different years. This was crazy. I can bet that the main thought going through everyone's head was 'what the hell?'. This was truly strange. How is it humanly possible to travel through time? Especially right onto The Beatles' lounge chair. This wasn't real, I kept telling myself. I was having another one of my vivid dreams. But in my dreams I didn't have emotions like I did now. Not only was I confused and shocked but I was scared. I was never going to see my family again… well, until I was an old lady anyway. At least I knew I wasn't alone. These people were lost too (well, maybe Jenny had it easy). I didn't know how to live in the 60s. I didn't know how to act, what to wear (not that I had any clothes) and I would likely be prone to mentioning things that haven't happened yet. All I know is that my life has changed immensely – I'm stuck in 1964 with uncertainty as to if I will ever return home.