#jamespages

        “ he’s dead, jimmy. “

                  yoko clutches the receiver, regret pooling                  in the pit of her stomach. she shouldn’t have                  picked up. surely this was just the first of                   many calls she was going to receive in the                   next few weeks. 

          and she’s already feeling like death.           drained. just so, so tired.

james-pages

It was easy to forget, amidst the roiling, pot-scented sea of humanity that were rock concerts, that she was something other the human. In dark band t-shirt and worn jeans, her brown hair long and flared out around her face and just enough makeup to keep her from getting caught at first glance, she looked no different than any other teenager in the place. She knew every word, every note to every single song, and when she closed her eyes she could almost see them playing just for her.

Led Zeppelin in the early 70′s... Could get it get any better?

It wasn’t until the concert petered to an end, and the moment they left the stage, the truth of her nature began to return to her. It quickly and deviously mixed with both her curiosity and rather obsessive nature, forming plans that she would likely regret if she had allowed herself to actually think it through. While everyone else pushed and shoved each other trying to get on stage, back stage or to the parking lot in the hopes of catching some small glimpse of the band, Emily slipped away into the shadows. She small, she was fast and she was determined. She was going to get their autographs! Especially Jimmy Page. She needed Jimmy Page’s autograph.