Chapter Text
The engine sputtered as he repeatedly pressed the gas pedal urgently. “C’mon, old thing, move!” he yelled. The car sadly did not comply, and he groaned as the car slowed down to a complete stop.
“ Oh, c'mon, mate! Just a little farther!” Ringo pleaded to the dreaded machine. He slumped in his seat as the rest of the car died. He sighed and ran his hands down his hair to his face. There's no way I'm makin' it to that gig, he thought. His gut squirmed with guilt and anxiety.
“Bloody hell,” he muttered, pushing the car door open, coughing as the exhaust ran through his lungs. He fanned the smoke away with his sleeve, stumbling through the dust to the back of the car. He dropped to his knees to get a better look at the engine. His eyes widened as he looked at the bottom of his car, confirming his worrisome thought from earlier: this car isn't going anywhere.
He got to his feet and sighed again, scratching his face with his dirt-ridden nails. His suit was ruined from kneeling in the dirt, his hair and face a mess from all the smoke and exhaust, and, worst of all, he was stuck in the middle of nowhere. He took a look around to better grasp his surroundings. He was standing on the road, which was more of a patch of dirt, surrounded by grass and tall, thick fir trees. He regretted turning down Rory's offer to ride with him...At the moment, he was fearful of Rory’s horrid driving, but dying alone in a vast forest seems way worse than dying in a car crash while laughing with his mate. He thought of the gig he was supposed to be playing in a few hours. Would they cancel and try to find him? Or would they just replace him and forget about him? His mind raced and his breath quickened. He quickly swallowed and shook his head. His bandmates will notice he's gone and eventually come and look for him. Meanwhile, this path has to lead somewhere, right? Maybe he'd stumble upon a cottage or a farm where someone could help him out.
He began to trudge through the forest, trying to keep his anxious thoughts at bay. His shoes, not built for the wilderness, began to deteriorate and scuff. The soreness in his feet began to spread throughout his body as the sun went down. The height of the fir trees seemed to have shortened as he walked further into the forest, and a large tower came into view. Ringo stopped in his tracks to observe the beautiful structure. It had a sleek Victorian build and resembled a castle. The exterior was painted black, and has large windows with small stone gargoyles raised on pillars at the edges of the building. It looked completely abandoned, but Ringo was overjoyed at the prospect of shelter. The tower didn't seem too far away, so he began to walk faster as night settled in.
As he got closer, fear began to nestle in his brain. Although the tower was beautiful, he couldn't help but notice how creepy it was. It looked similar to the mansion in The Haunting he watched on the telly with his mates last week.
The dirt road shifted to sturdy bricks that created a path to the large front doors of the tower. He was only a few feet away, however, Ringo stopped in his tracks. He sniffed and immediately regretted it- the scent of decay and flesh took over his head, making him nauseous in seconds. He stumbled along the road with his hands covering his nose. His eyes began to water from the stench. “Hell, who died out here?” he muttered to himself. As he walked along, still holding his nose, the horrid smell began to cede and was quickly replaced by a more enticing aroma. Ringo put his hands down to sniff the sweet scent. He sighed dreamily, letting the smell of vanilla and sandalwood fill his head. He began to trudge through the road once again, however he found himself unable to step forward. His legs felt like jelly, and his head was filled with clouds. The road and the tower seemed to tilt and swoosh around him in a spiral. He felt hot and sweaty despite the cool night air, and noticed that he was hard. He lifted his foot and tried to take a step, which only led to him falling face-first onto the cold road. He couldn't move at all. Sparks began to flash before his eyes till he finally gave up and closed his eyes.
He drowsily opened his eyes and shifted his body upwards. He felt a powerful ache on the left side of his head. He lifted his hand to his head to grasp the damage, only to feel a thick band-aid covering the area. His hand plopped back down to his side as he groaned. He was so sore. His feet and legs hurt the most, but at least the worst part was bandaged. Wait. Bandaged?
He sat up so quickly that dizziness rushed to his head. He groaned and rubbed his eyes of sleep, and examined the scene before him. He was lying in an expansive bed, surrounded by black, silk pillows and an incredibly plush velvet blanket. The sheets were red and made of silk as well. He looked up to see he was surrounded by deep red walls with black skulls patterned on it. He shuddered and rubbed his eyes again, praying to himself that this was just a very elaborate nightmare. He shuffled through the bed, pulling the heavy blanket off him and made his way to the window a few feet from the bed. It was large and covered with beautiful black lace curtains.
He opened the curtains and looked outside to see that is was storming. Thunder shook the forest he was once in and he could see lightning in the distance. He sighed loudly. There was no way he was making it out of this strange tower, let alone going to the gig.
More importantly, I've been kidnapped! he thought. From the outside, the strange tower looked completely abandoned, so how is it so nicely furnished and clean? Multiple people must live here in order to keep such a big building tidy, yet there wasn't a single car or sign of people outside. There wasn't even a single spec of dust on the window, and the rest of the room was neat as well.
Thump! Thump!
Ringo jumped in terror. A loud stomping was coming from outside the bedroom door. Ringo shuffled quickly back into the bed, pulling the velvet comforter over him. He shivered in fear and attempted to control his breathing as the stomping came closer and the door swung open.
"Don't open the door so loudly! The lad could still be asleep" said an exasperated voice.
"Well he isn't anymore from yer screeching, Macca! Quiet down!" said a deeper, more nasal voice.
"Look Johnny, the windows open! You don't suppose he's awoken already, do you?" whispered the higher voice with a tone of nervousness.
"Well he's out cold now, luv. Let's go downstairs, yeah? Its cold up here."
"Johnny what if he's fakin'? What if he's plannin" to jump on us or something?"
"Paulie you saw the state he was in when we found 'im. Even if he did get up he's too weak to cause us any harm. Don't worry your pretty head about it, luv. Lets go downstairs an' tell Hazza he's still asleep."
"Alright" sighed the other boy
Ringo heard one of the boys kissing the others cheek, followed by the door closing and footsteps receding. The pair probably went downstairs to talk to 'Hazza', whoever that was.
Ringo sat up again and propped himself up on the silk pillows once their footsteps faded away. He tried to go through his knowledge of the situation once again. I've been kidnapped, he thought, by three people named Johnny, Macca, and Hazza, and I'm most definitely dead by tomorrow.
Anxiety filled his body and another wave of nausea hit him. He slipped down to rest his head on the soft pillow to try and fall asleep. Hopefully he'd awake to find himself back at home and this all turns out to be a very bad dream.
Unfortunately, that does not happen.
.