Hey there, fellow fanfictioners. This is just a little idea for a story I had, I haven't seen this up on FF before so I thought I'd put it here.
Note: I don't believe in heaven or in existence after death. My beliefs are purely existential. But I'm also a dreamer, so I do like to imagine things. This is purely fictional, of course.
Disclaimer: I do not own the Beatles or anything else you might recognize.
Chapter One: Faces
Jenna always drew spirals in Biology class. Perfectly coiled circular spirals, equidistant lines revolving around themselves in a timeless circle of space, dwindling out into infinity, or until her hand slipped and one of the lines ran into the others, which was so annoying. Enough spirals for now. Instead she drew a face: a familiar face: the face of Sir James Paul McCartney, the fine aristocratic nose above the slightly drooping large hazel eyes, the thin upper lip and fat lower lip set in a near-pout over the protruding, prominent chin. And of course the mop-top of hair: the part she liked drawing best.
Next to his, she drew John's face: sly narrowed eyes - her graphite pencil markings didn't show their rich coffee colour - above the long nose that ended in a point, though the front-view of her drawing didn't show that - and the thin, curving lips, all set between slightly feminine but still attractive cheekbones and framed by a sideways-brushed mop top. Ah, the mop top. John's face was always the easiest to draw.
Below Paul, she began to draw Ringo. Ringo's was difficult to master. The shape of his nose was easy to mess up. It lacked the perfection of Paul's nose, but Jenna had never understood why people made fun of Ringo's nose. She thought it was kind of adorable. She finished drawing the nose, surprised to find that it had come out alright this time, and then she drew his eyes - again, the light grey shading she brushed upon them didn't do justice to their brilliant blue - and then traced his mouth and the shape of his cheekbones and chin. Ringo's mop top was not as unruly as Paul and John's; more shaped.
And then there was a gap: for three of the Beatles had been drawn, and the fourth gap was left for the fourth Beatle. But Jenna's drawings could never do justice to his beautiful face. No pencil could capture the shape of his nose: a little straight, a little crooked; nor the cheekbones, so perfectly set in his face, hollowing his cheeks; his lips, finely shaped, that split so beautifully into a beam brighter than the sun when he smiled. Those weren't the features that Jenna couldn't capture, though. She could even draw those so that they did, to some extent, resemble him. It was the eyes she couldn't get.
The eyes. Large eyes, almond-shaped eyes, eyes that hinted bits of underlying soul but didn't reveal too much - and yet they were so expressive, so lively, they contained so much in those brown and golden lights.
How Jenna wished she could, just for once, see those eyes - and not in a picture. Not on the internet - though the internet offered plenty two-dimensional imprintings of them - not in a book, though Jenna owned several that displayed them - not even on a television screen, where they moved and blinked just like they were real. She wanted to see them for real. Real enough that she could reach out and touch them to make sure they were there. Not that she needed to: she'd be okay with just seeing them.
There was no point in even trying to draw that beautiful face. She'd tried too many times before. Sighing heavily, Jenna erased the three faces and opened her notebook, and set about trying to replicate her teacher's diagram of the cross-section of a monocot's primary root.
Thanks for reading :D Was this chapter to monotonous? The story hasn't really begun yet. It'll start soon, I promise.
Also. The Jenna in this story isn't based on me, I kind of hate it when authors do that. I know that on my profile it says my name is Jenna, but it's not really, I just think it's a pretty name. :)
Please tell me what you think :) -Jen.