Losing Touch

Console Me

I was finally living my dream. I was at a Killers concert. It was the best time of my life, or so I thought. Things were about to get exorbitantly fantastic and horrid simultaneously.

I leaped up and down with the crowd, screaming more than I had at that Jonas Brothers concert I'd gone to when I was nine. I couldn't believe that I was in the same room as my favorite band. The seat I had wasn't fantastic, but I wasn't so far away from the stage that I had to look at the jumbotron. I watched Brandon as he put one foot on a speaker and looked in my direction. I melted, even though I knew there was no way we made eye contact. But still, it was exciting to have a famous person even look in my direction. And then the lights went out. Screams erupted around the concert hall and then I heard nothing but silence. I closed my eyes tight.

When I reopened them, I was standing in a slightly brighter room, next to a man who had his hand on the back of his head. Then I heard the man speak.

"Where the hell am I?" Nope, not just a man, the one man I'd been wanting to meet ever since I was thirteen. Brandon Flowers. I turned to face him.

"I've honestly got no idea." He whirled around to face me.

"Who the hell are you?" I snorted. What, did I really expect him to know who I was? Not really, it was just that I'd expected to get a better reception when I'd finally met the man. I frowned and held out a hand.

"Lorena. Lorena Silvermann." He put his hand in mine and pumped it twice.

"Brandon. Brandon Flowers, even though you might already know that. But let me repeat my initial question. Where the hell are we?" I shrugged

"No idea. All I remember is everything going dark, screaming, me closing my eyes and then opening them to reveal this room." Brandon frowned.

"How'd we get here?" I shrugged again.

"Look, I know about as much as you do about this situation. Let's just go outside and hope that there's a newspaper stand to tell us just exactly where we are." I could tell Brandon was a little leery of me, being I was a fan and all, and he'd just met me, but he seemed to calm with my suggestion.

"Yeah, that sounds good." I nodded and we exited the building into the bright day. Weird. It hadn't been daytime when I'd gotten to the concert, it'd started fairly late. Brandon looked as confused as I did. I surveyed my surroundings, looking for a newspaper stand. Then I found one across the street.

"Brandon. Over there." He followed my gaze and we looked both ways before dashing across the busy street. I reached the newspaper stand and picked one up. I read the top of the paper. New York Times. So far, so good. We were in the same city as before. My eyes then gravitated to the top corner. September 5th, 2004!? I almost dropped the newspaper, but Brandon snatched it out of the air.

"What? What is it?" I pointed to the top corner. "September 5th? 2004!? No way." The newspaper salesman gave us a funny look. Brandon slammed the paper down on the counter. "What year is it?"

"2014. Yes, it's 2004! Dumbass." The newspaper salesman retorted sarcastically as he snatched the paper from Brandon's hands. Brandon stood there, dumbstruck. I put a hand on his shoulder, for I knew we couldn't be there much longer, or else the newspaper salesman might call the cops on us for being drunk. I told Brandon to go back across the street and that I'd be there shortly. He nodded, and crossed the street, still dumbstruck. I turned to face the newspaper man.

"Excuse me, do you have the time? My watch seems to have died." He frowned.

"Yeah, sure. It's 3 pm. Have fun." I thanked him and ran across the street, back to Brandon.

"Hey, for now, let's just go back into the concert hall so we can gather ourselves." Brandon nodded and we went back into the concert hall. We sat down in the floor, cross-legged.

"Okay, so we know it's September 5th, 2004. We also know that it's 3 pm." Brandon nodded as if he was preoccupied. He pointed to nothing and had on a thinking face. "Brandon. Hello? You even paying attention?" He waved his hand at me almost as if to say hang on a sec.

"Wait a minute. Hot Fuss dropped a few months ago! That means I'm not as famous yet. So that means there's a smaller chance that I'll get recognized. And, today's the three month anniversary." I frowned. Sure enough, Hot Fuss had dropped on June 4th, 2004.

"Congrats. I bet the you of this time is hungover as hell right now." Brandon nodded.

"Probably. I don't remember a lot from this day. We were excited as hell about the whole 'getting famous' thing." I snorted, amused at the thought of Brandon hungover.

"Okay, we need to figure out what our choices are. How much money do you have on you?" Brandon patted his pockets and pulled out a small wad of cash. He flicked through it and mouthed the numbers as he went on.

"About 100 bucks." My eyes went wide. $100? Wow. I couldn't believe that he carried that much around with him.

"Well, I've got my purse on me, luckily, and I'd planned on buying some merch after the concert, so I've got about 75 bucks, my phone, and a whole buncha other crap." Brandon patted his other pocket and discovered his phone and a tube of Chapstick. "So our choices are very slim?" Brandon nodded solemnly. It looked like we'd be here for a little while.

So what'd you think of the first chapter of Losing Touch? Appropriate book title, no? I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. New chapters will be out periodically, still haven't laid out a whole schedule since this is the first fan fiction I plan on updating regularly, not speed uploading. Don't expect a new chapter anytime soon because I'm gonna stockpile chapters so I'm not stressing to get chapters finished right before the deadline. So consider this a teaser.

xoxo- tumblr user captainsparklez