It was 1957, the rain poured like a never ending storm and the lighting boomed with a roll of thunder. It had been just after the sun has gone down. Clouds black as night covered the glow of the horizon. Only the street lights were seen shinning down on the stoned cobbled streets. It was cold and wet in Liverpool, England that early night.
The beating of black boots hit the cobbled path running, splashing into some puddles here and there. A young boy the age of fourteen, dark brown hair and eyes, in a black leather jacket ran along the path breathless, he looks back seeing couple of boys after him shouting. He tripped a little and got back to running extending his legs and arms.
"GET BACK HERE YOU IDIOT!" the blonde boy with a black leather jacket shouted. The second boy took an aerosol can and a lighter and made a flame. The young boy running from the two boys cried out in fear, he tripped again but this time he fell on his face. The blonde boy stepped on his chest holding him down.
The second black haired boy sprayed his can and a flame flared up in the young boys face scaring him again. He looked away squinting his eyes , the flame went away. The rain still fell as the two boys looked over him laughing. The black haired boy spoke,
"What are you gonna cry? You baby?" He punched the poor boy in the face. The blonde boy cackled he stepped on the young boys chest kneeling down, he flipped out a knife. The young boy screamed,
"NOOOOO! NOOO LET ME GO!" The fourteen year old kicked and flared his arms up. "Hold him down you arse!" barked the blonde boy to the black haired boy. The black hair boy held down the young boys arms.
"You see this huh?" He showed the small swiss-army knife to the young boy. "Where should I cut your initials huh? Cause I know the perfect place." The blonde boy laughed in his face scaring him more. The fear in the boy's eyes were innocent, young, and helpless though he looked tough he was not.
"I--can't hold him down forever--." The black haired boy struggled. "Don't let go of his arms or I'll cut your ear off!" The blonde haired boy snarled, then he looks back down to the young boy,
"What's your name..." The young boy didn't answer. "What's your FUCKING NAME?!" the boy punched him in the face and the young boy groaned in pain with his eyes squinted closed. The blonde haired boy held his neck, "WHAT'S YOUR NAME GODDAMNIT?!"
The young boy choked,"George...."
"Last Name?" The boy held the knife to his face.
"Harrison...."
"G.H. It is then fella." The blonde boy cut the young boy's shirt open under his leather jacket. The young boy struggled to trying to resist the black haired boy from holding him down. The blonde boy started to cut into his flesh and skin. George started to cry. The black haired boy's arms struggled shaking.
The blonde haired boy cut the letter G onto the young boy's stomach. A blood-curdling scream came from George in pain, but the blond boy covered his mouth. He laughed once more like a cancer or a virus, it was evil and reckless. He went and started to cut the second initial on George.
The black haired boy looked over to an alley way as he held down Georges' arms seeing someone. The black haired boy's eyes widened, "Oh shit..." Suddenly a boy walked out also wearing a leather jacket walks up and punches the black haired boy in the face.
George jerked and the blonde haired boy accidentally cuts his finger. "AH JESUS CHR--!" The blonde boy stood up turning around. Before him stood an older boy who also had dark brown hair and eyes, a black leather jacket, and a long nose. His stature was tall and broad and he looked very intimidating.
"You wanna play pal? Cause I can definitely play." The blonde boy held out an aerosol can and lighter, he sprayed the can and a flame ignites.
"Put that away you blondy halfwit, I don't do your games anymore." The older boy said with his arms crossed still standing in the rain.
The blonde boy went for a punch but the older boy blocked. He took his turn and knocked out the blonde boy on the wet, cobbled stoned street. The black haired boy got up and ran away like a coward.
George, who sat up in pain looked to the older boy. He turns around and came down to George,
"I'm so sorry they did tha' too you." says the older boy. The younger boy nodded silently.
"I'm John." he said.
"George." replied the younger boy.
The older boy looked up, it was still dark and raining outside. Only the headlights of the road and a couple of cars passing by were all that's left. John looked down to George seeing his skin cuts,
"You need some help home?" he asked the younger boy.
George nodded his head and John helped him up, one arm over his shoulder. He had his hand over his stomach as it had a sharp pain. Luckily all is not lost because it turns out, the older boy had stuck up for him. He was thankful for that.
By the time the young boy arrived to his door step he turned to John and said shyly,
"....Thanks Mate."
John smiled, "Sure thing." He turned and walked away into the night. And it made George wonder. Instead he shook his head turning to the front door, he zipped up his leather jacket covering his cut scars on his torso so his parent's wouldn't see.
In his mind, he was curious now about John and who he was.
YOU ARE READING
In Spite of all the Danger
Historical FictionThey were all down and thrown around like a rag dolls. Preyed upon like a helpless cubs, they seemed tough but not appeared as they seemed. This was how the fab four met through situations when they were pushed, kicked, or punched. Blood and Bones...
