Chapter Text
It was a gray day, with clouds smothering the atmosphere over the city of Liverpool, England. What seemed to be a normal afternoon suddenly shifted, with a commotion beginning on an asphalt street in the old hometown of the famous men.
In another failed attempt to just fit in, the Beatles were randomly discovered by a group of fans, engulfed in the wild frenzy of madness people would immediately develop upon meeting a celebrity.
Frantically, the group was being chased down through the winding streets, doing all they could to lose their devoted followers.
On slippery cobblestones, the four ducked through the main roads into the alleyways of lesser-traveled spots. Passing empty buildings with boarded windows, while wildly traveling through narrow brick passageways, John’s keen senses noticed a small opening behind an overlap between two structures.
Silently, the lead singer pointed in its direction, which his companions followed. This random maneuver briefly gave the chased the ability to slip by the passing crowd. Still, the lads were seeking further shelter, as no spot was safe for long. It was only a matter of time until they would be spotted again by those seeking them out.
While scurrying through the smaller passageway, the smell of stale rain permeated the air as the men, who were natives to this town, sought shelter from outsiders deliberately seeking the Beatles. Dodging puddles was as difficult as avoiding being seen by strangers in these narrow back alleys.
The Fab Four were on the opposite side of most businesses, revealing these shops’ less appealing backways, which were lined with rubbish bins and inhabited by stray cats.
Aware that if discovered they could be overwhelmed by mobs of people, the group made their way down to the other side of an open walkway, praying the area would be deserted.
Unfortunately, they were granted no such luck. Upon arriving at the narrow opening, the Beatles found a stream of average people steadily walking past, simply going about their business.
Still, caution instinctively forced the famous musicians to remain hidden. Any of the men, women, and even the small children could quickly become overcome with hysterics. So together, the famous group watched random folks stroll by as the young musicians clung tightly to the brick wall.
Eagerly, they waited for a break in the crowd. The lads couldn’t just idly walk through the open space, knowing all it took was a single glance at any of their faces for someone to immediately flip into a frenzy of madness.
Cautiously, the four traveled through the alley in the opposite direction, but it wasn’t long before another group of fans was looking for them, visible from around the corner. Thankfully, the young people of both sexes had their backs to the rock and roll stars, oblivious to how close they were to their idols. Yet, where was there left to go, as neither end of the street was safe?
Realizing they needed to find a way out, the four searched for a break between the buildings to escape. It was then that Ringo noticed an inconspicuous shop, suddenly appearing as the only refuge in sight.
Quickly, the drummer mutely drew his friends’ attention and directed the other three toward the only building without a wooden board covering its window. Strange, as none of these men had seen the open business before when they hurried by.
Approaching the brick building, a purple sign above the display window read, in black calligraphy, “The Lost Is Found.”
Then, glancing at the large front window, the first item that caught the men’s attention was a mannequin wearing a wedding dress from the 1940s, standing in front of all the other items. Behind the mock bride was a Victorian-style bureau, with an array of domestic items from bygone eras, but nothing that would interest men of their age and status.
These weren’t rare collectibles, but junk that would have been thrown away if someone couldn’t make a dime off it.
Still, the items appeared to be in good shape, but clearly used and old. There was also a large green vase in the corner, obviously just filler, as it wasn’t that pretty or impressive.
“It looks like an antique shop,” George Harrison observed, looking over the building, which had suddenly appeared in such an unlikely location. Still, the fear of discovery quickly dissolved all doubt, as the youngest of the group returned his gaze to the many passageways where the famous musicians could be discovered again at any moment.
“Well, it’s the next best thing to a rubbish bin!” John Lennon remarked, unsatisfied with this option. Yet he approached the door, realizing they had no other choice but to enter the store, which sold junk he didn’t care about.
“I thought I saw that shop front boarded over!” Ringo mentioned at the bottom of the two steps John had climbed. He was talking about the building’s display window.
“Well, obviously you were mistaken,” Lennon asserted, silently unsettled by the drummer’s point.
“Let’s go in!” he further commanded, looking both ways for the crazy fans.
Without hesitation, the party followed, with each man entering the building as quickly as they could to avoid detection. Safe inside the business, the prestigious men were surrounded by old items from decades past. To be honest, it was junk! Bookshelves held random items, from dishes to novels, old-style cookware, lanterns that everyone from their grandmother’s generation owned, and other old, outdated stuff no one really wanted.
The aroma of aged clutter permeated the air, with a mixture of must and decay. Still, the place was dry, and more importantly, it shielded the famous four from the outside world.
“May I help you lads?” said an unseen male voice in the sea of forgotten rubbish scattered about the famous four.
Startled, the musicians swung their bodies around in unison toward the direction of the spoken words. There, the Beatles discovered, from behind a counter, an elderly couple sitting together with a cash register in front of their rustic sitting space.
The man stood taller than his female companion. Naturally, the shopkeeper sat on a tall wooden stool to reach the high checkout shelf.
Yet, despite the furniture’s height, the top of the aged man’s head was most observable, with a wad of loose white hair, which he wore a bit long for his advanced years. Even more peculiar was what was behind the odd fellow. There, crouched in the corner, was a woman who seemed to physically resemble the man in feminine form.
Quietly, she sat back in a proper chair below the high checkout shelf. She would have been overlooked if it weren’t for her white hair, which brightly contrasted with the dimly lit space.
For the wealthy patrons who had just barged in, it was rather obvious the pair were a little eccentric. Both had long white hair and wore matching hand-sewn outfits, connected with crooked stitching, made from old-style woven fabric, though the woman wore a skirt, compared to the man’s simple trousers.
“We’re just browsing,” Paul McCartney answered, noticing the two were just under five feet in height.
“They’re hiding,” the old woman suddenly hissed from under a mop of white hair, which was wildly scattered upon her head. She followed her statement with a little chuckle that sounded more like a crackle, which seemed to echo across the shelves, as if the items themselves were laughing.
Upon looking at the aged female face, the lads saw her eyes were void of color. She was blind, yet stared right at them.
“You’re safe here, boys,” she declared with a smile of missing teeth. It was a warm welcome from a terrifying character, like a witch from a fairytale.
“Stay as long as you need,” the man with elf-like features then assured. His nose was a bit bulbous in the middle of his round face, with a distinctive line along the jaw. Like a marionette made of wood, he seemed to have no neck under his round head. What was even more peculiar, his ears were slightly pointed, giving off that mythical feel about him and her.
This further study caused the unwitting patrons to wonder if the eccentric pair created elixirs. It was uncanny how the strange duo resembled a mixture of fairy tales from ancient Irish lore these lads grew up with, along with gypsy songs describing the same creatures.
“Look around, enjoy yourselves,” the male shopkeeper added, as he spread his short arms with hands that adorned stubby fingers.
Now the Beatles were at a loss for words, but humbly nodded as they took the elders’ suggestion. A little stunned but certainly willing to comply, the young men divided up, looking at different items that caught their eye. The shop was bigger than it appeared from the outside. There were multiple rooms, and the building seemed to never end.