literature

Marble Museum-2

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Marble Museum: Dreams of the Statues

Author: Aurorita248
Rated: T or M
Warnings: Slight JohnxRingo and GeorgexPaul, slight nudity and sex
Summary: A 'normal' day for John and Ringo at the museum brings them to a pair of marble statues...unfortunately, the statues have come to life. The two 'boys' are now entwined with the tale of the two men cast in marble, but if things don't work out...the museum will have two more additions to their statue collection.
Notes: This story is based on a drawing by deviantartist Nodding and to commemorate her first ever Slash picture. This is also based on the Greek story, "Pygmalion".
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Chapter 2-The Quartermen

John and Ringo were in John's garage. The two were working on getting a band together—they called it 'The Quarrymen'--and dreamed on making it big. Plus, they needed to get their minds out of the story of the 'Lovers of Artemis' that they read in the museum.

"Stupid banjo," John muttered under his breath. "It doesn't sound right."

"That's because you have to tune it." Ringo noted.

"I don't know how to do it though..."

"Didn't your mum teach you?"

"Well she tried to, then she...you know..."

Ringo slowly nodded his head. A few weeks ago, John's mother died in a car crash. The suspect was a drunk off duty police officer whose car crashed onto an unsuspecting Julia Lennon. John was heartbroken, and he still was.

John sighed as he twisted one of the knobs on his banjo. Strumming his instrument, he growled in frustration at his results.

"How am I supposed to get this tuned?!" He exclaimed. "Ah, I had this great song idea that can't be solved if it won't sound right!"

"Can we help?"

John and Ringo looked up, seeing two younger boys entering the garage. They looked youthful, probably two or even three years younger than them...dressed in leather jackets and jeans. The one who spoke was the one with gentle, brown eyes.

"I'm Paul, and he's George. Can we help?"

"I'd like to see you tune this," said John, handing Paul his banjo. "Here, have a look."

Paul took the banjo into his hands and soon plucked a string. He plucked another and then another...it seemed like he was having fun with the instrument.

John was about to comment that it wasn't a toy, but that was before he heard Paul tune the banjo. The younger boy took it one string at a time, but John knew the banjo enough to know how it sounded like.

"H-how did you do that?" asked John.

"I play...something similar to this when no one sees it." Paul answered back. "It has a longer neck, but the sound is purer."

George was taking note of the drums. He delicately placed a hand on a drumstick, hovering it over a cymbal.

"It's not going to bite." said Ringo. "Here, let me help you out."

George felt Ringo take his hand and slightly swish the drumstick over the hi-hat cymbal. The sound was nice and crisp.

"Now you try it."

George saw the cymbal and hit it again. He then hit it once more, the sound louder than before. He smiled as he took two drum sticks and began to bang on the cymbals louder and louder. He recoiled in pain when it became too loud.

Paul covered his eardrums, nearly dropping the banjo. John grabbed it before it smashed onto the ground.

"That hurt." Paul noted.

"Yeah, cymbals do that if smashed hard enough." said John. "Say, where are you guys from?"

"We drift around." said George. "We don't stay often...we just run and hide..."

"What happened to your parents?" asked Ringo. "They must be worried sick about you two..."

"They're...gone..." Paul sadly stated. "They died in a fire..."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that." said John. "My mom is dead also...and my dad left me when I was a kid."

"My dad walked out of my mum when I was only 3." Ringo added. "My mom runs a bakery though."

"That sounds lovely." said George, rubbing his stomach. "I'm pretty hungry."

"Have a croissant then." said Ringo, pulling the pastry from his bag. He handed it to George, who inspected the flaky, crescent-shaped bread in his hand. It was very light and smelled like butter.

"How do I eat it?" asked George.

"You mean you've never had a croissant?" asked John. "They're delicious! Just try them out!"

"Okay then..." said George, ripping the croissant in half. He handed one half of the pastry to Paul before taking a bite out of it. John and Ringo saw the two chew on the pastry before swallowing. They observed as their mouths turned into smiles.

"It's delicious, that's for sure." said George, taking another bite of the croissant. "Do you have anymore?"

"I think so," said Ringo. "But we can have them for lunch. John and I have to get back to practicing."

"You practice music?" Paul gasped. "Only the rich were allowed to touch an instrument such as those."

"Well, we're rich to the poor and we're poor in the eyes of the rich." John retorted. "We were taught how to play these instruments...weren't you?"

"We were poor so we can only afford one instrument." George explained. "It got burned in the fire also..."

"But even after all this time, we still remember the lessons that mother and father taught us...." said Paul, staring at his hands. "They were killed trying to save us...we had no choice but to run away..."

"If it makes you feel better, we're here to make you feel better." said Ringo. "We're friends...."

"...Friends?" George repeated. "Friends..."

"Yeah, I guess we can be pals." said John. "We, uh, don't have any other instruments except for the ones we have. Do you want to hear us play?"

"Please, play for us." said Paul. "We want to hear your instruments."

"Alright then." said John. "Ready Ringo?"

"Ready." said the shorter boy.

At John's count, Ringo began to play a simple rhythm on his drum. John began to strum his banjo, his posture resembling a Greek statue as he began to sing. It was a bit scratchy, but George and Paul couldn't deny that there was a rich quality in that voice. Ringo had excellent posture and a bright smile on his face, happy to do what he was doing.

When they finished the song, George and Paul clapped their hands in applause.

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After a few hours, Paul sat up from his chair. John and Ringo finished playing all the songs they had written, and they looked a bit exhausted from the looks of it.

"We have to get going," He announced. "We can't stay long."

"You have to leave already?" asked John. "It's not even night time."

"We...have to head to our next destination." George explained. "Where it is...we don't know...we just go where we need to go."

"Will we ever see you again?" asked Ringo.

"Maybe." said Paul. "Thank you for the music...we haven't heard music like that in a long, long time...."

"If you ever come back, drop by." said John.

"We shall." said George, a sly grin on his face. "Goodbye then, John. Goodbye, Ringo."

The two left the garage, the two holding hands. As they left, Ringo noticed a mark on the back of their necks. They looked like black crescent moons.

Strange... thought the drummer. Where did those come from?
?
Yeah...this is the update for Marble Museum...sorry for the delay though.

So, hope you all like it!
© 2011 - 2024 Aurorita248
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