Komm, Gib Mir Deine Hand
I Think You'll Understand
Komm, Gib Mir Deine Hand
It was a particularly hot Liverpool Saturday afternoon. The thick English clouds hung low in the sky like a drab grey blanket, only letting the sun get an occasional peek at the busy city. All through the day the sky threatened a downpour but only occasionally sprinkled; just enough to make the air full of miserable humidity.
“I’m going to just die.”
Sitting on the worn stone steps of Saint Peter’s Church were three young girls, all dressed in their Sunday best. All around them men and women of various ages rushed about to finish the final preparations for the parade and following fête.
“No, you’re not.” Retorted the eldest girl as she picked at her finger nails. “A little sunshine never hurt anyone.”
“But the heat and humidity will.” The middle girl spat as she sniffed fanned at herself. “Why can’t we sit in the tent and get something to drink? It’s better than steaming out here.”
The youngest one let out a moan of displeasure.
“Please, Martha!” She pleaded.
“NO, Lucy!” Martha put her foot down for the last time. The small girl’s eyes suddenly welled with tears.
“Y’know, you’re not very nice to your little sister.” The middle girl helped Mary up and began to lead her down the steps. “And all for some boy who doesn’t even know you exist.”
“Ah, sod off Sadie.” Martha huffed. “Take the little brat off of the tent. I don’t care.”
Sadie sighed as she and Lucy trotted over to the refreshment tent, leaving Martha all by her lonesome to sit miserably.
Martha didn’t quite know what drove her to such behavior. She was usually such a nice young girl; she was never such a beast to her friends or her sister. She looked down at the fête program, her eyes falling on two lines that had been circled. Encircled in thick red marker were the words ‘Quarry Men Skiffle Group.’ Upon re-reading the name she felt as if she had been whisked back into the week before; the sights and sounds as if they were in the here and now.
”Martha.” Her neighbor and close friend Pete Shotton began as they stood outside of the fish and chips place on Penny Lane. “This is John, he’s part of me band.”
Leaning against the brick façade was the lanky 17 year old, his hair slicked back and a cigarette hanging between his lips. He hungrily eyed a busty bird that was walking on the opposite side of the street.
“Check out the tits on her!”
Pete slapped his arm.
“Lennon!”
“Whot!?” John asked as he pulled he cigarette from his mouth, oblivious to the third party standing with them.
“This is Martha.”
“Oh.” He looked her up and down then turned back to look at the girls across the street. “’ullo.”
Martha stood there, her arms close to her sides and her eyes staring intently at John’s face. She watched as he took a long drag on the cigarette, almost melting as she watched his lips part to let the smoke roll from his lungs.
“God,” Pete lamented. “This is the last time I introduce you to any of me bird friends. Come’ead, Martha.”
She let a hushed ‘bye’ escape her lips as Pete shooed her down the pavement, turning her head to get one last glance as they rounded the corner.
“’Scuse me.”
Martha suddenly snapped back to reality, her eyes quickly darting to the source of the sudden burst of conversation.
Standing at the end of the steps was John, his guitar slung across his back. Her eyes lit up like Christmas and her face turned a bright shade of scarlet.
“’E-ello.” She managed to mutter. John took a few steps up before sitting a step below her.
“You’re Pete’s friend, right?” He began, fiddling in his breast pocket before retrieving a pack of cigarettes. “The one that was down on Penny Lane the other day?”
Martha sheepishly nodded as he lit up.
“Sorry for being so rude then.” He said as he exhaled. “I was just a bit..”
“Preoccupied.” Martha blurted out. Her eyes widened when she realized that he had said it out loud, her hands suddenly rushing to cover her mouth.
John laughed. “Yeah, preoccupied.”
“I didn’t mean that. I mean…” She stammered.
“’Eh, it’s alright.” He smirked. “Hey, you wanna come see the band play? We’re playin’ ‘round four.”
“Really?” Martha asked as she quickly hid the program under her. “Pete hadn’t told me.”
“Yeah, he’s a sneaky little twit.” John stood and finished his cigarette. “I’d like it if you stayed ‘round after too. Maybe I could repay you for my rudeness the other day.”
Martha internally squealed but managed to keep a calm and lady like exterior as he extended his hand out to her.
“I’d love to.”
It was a particularly hot Liverpool Saturday afternoon. The thick English clouds hung low in the sky like a drab grey blanket, only letting the sun get an occasional peek at the busy city. All through the day the sky threatened a downpour but only occasionally sprinkled; just enough to make the air full of miserable humidity.
“I’m going to just die.”
Sitting on the worn stone steps of Saint Peter’s Church were three young girls, all dressed in their Sunday best. All around them men and women of various ages rushed about to finish the final preparations for the parade and following fête.
“No, you’re not.” Retorted the eldest girl as she picked at her finger nails. “A little sunshine never hurt anyone.”
“But the heat and humidity will.” The middle girl spat as she sniffed fanned at herself. “Why can’t we sit in the tent and get something to drink? It’s better than steaming out here.”
The youngest one let out a moan of displeasure.
“Please, Martha!” She pleaded.
“NO, Lucy!” Martha put her foot down for the last time. The small girl’s eyes suddenly welled with tears.
“Y’know, you’re not very nice to your little sister.” The middle girl helped Mary up and began to lead her down the steps. “And all for some boy who doesn’t even know you exist.”
“Ah, sod off Sadie.” Martha huffed. “Take the little brat off of the tent. I don’t care.”
Sadie sighed as she and Lucy trotted over to the refreshment tent, leaving Martha all by her lonesome to sit miserably.
Martha didn’t quite know what drove her to such behavior. She was usually such a nice young girl; she was never such a beast to her friends or her sister. She looked down at the fête program, her eyes falling on two lines that had been circled. Encircled in thick red marker were the words ‘Quarry Men Skiffle Group.’ Upon re-reading the name she felt as if she had been whisked back into the week before; the sights and sounds as if they were in the here and now.
”Martha.” Her neighbor and close friend Pete Shotton began as they stood outside of the fish and chips place on Penny Lane. “This is John, he’s part of me band.”
Leaning against the brick façade was the lanky 17 year old, his hair slicked back and a cigarette hanging between his lips. He hungrily eyed a busty bird that was walking on the opposite side of the street.
“Check out the tits on her!”
Pete slapped his arm.
“Lennon!”
“Whot!?” John asked as he pulled he cigarette from his mouth, oblivious to the third party standing with them.
“This is Martha.”
“Oh.” He looked her up and down then turned back to look at the girls across the street. “’ullo.”
Martha stood there, her arms close to her sides and her eyes staring intently at John’s face. She watched as he took a long drag on the cigarette, almost melting as she watched his lips part to let the smoke roll from his lungs.
“God,” Pete lamented. “This is the last time I introduce you to any of me bird friends. Come’ead, Martha.”
She let a hushed ‘bye’ escape her lips as Pete shooed her down the pavement, turning her head to get one last glance as they rounded the corner.
“’Scuse me.”
Martha suddenly snapped back to reality, her eyes quickly darting to the source of the sudden burst of conversation.
Standing at the end of the steps was John, his guitar slung across his back. Her eyes lit up like Christmas and her face turned a bright shade of scarlet.
“’E-ello.” She managed to mutter. John took a few steps up before sitting a step below her.
“You’re Pete’s friend, right?” He began, fiddling in his breast pocket before retrieving a pack of cigarettes. “The one that was down on Penny Lane the other day?”
Martha sheepishly nodded as he lit up.
“Sorry for being so rude then.” He said as he exhaled. “I was just a bit..”
“Preoccupied.” Martha blurted out. Her eyes widened when she realized that he had said it out loud, her hands suddenly rushing to cover her mouth.
John laughed. “Yeah, preoccupied.”
“I didn’t mean that. I mean…” She stammered.
“’Eh, it’s alright.” He smirked. “Hey, you wanna come see the band play? We’re playin’ ‘round four.”
“Really?” Martha asked as she quickly hid the program under her. “Pete hadn’t told me.”
“Yeah, he’s a sneaky little twit.” John stood and finished his cigarette. “I’d like it if you stayed ‘round after too. Maybe I could repay you for my rudeness the other day.”
Martha internally squealed but managed to keep a calm and lady like exterior as he extended his hand out to her.
“I’d love to.”
♠ ♠ ♠
This was really the only silly thing I could come up with! I hope I place alright! :3