April 6th, 1968
It was raining hard in Surrey. Earlier there had been sunshine with only a tease of grey clouds. George Harrison stood in his kitchen at Kinfauns, lighting up a cigarette as he watched lightning crash all around through his window.
A photographer had come over that day to take pictures. The two of them chatted as the man, a beatnik from Ireland with a groovy pair of sunglasses, snapped photos of George in the greenhouse, on the lawn, in the kitchen, everywhere, really.
While he'd had a lovely time chatting with the man about art and such, the peacefulness of getting to be alone after having been with someone was George's favorite feeling. He felt quite cozy, taking in the rainstorm as his kettle steamed up on the hot stove.
He closed his eyes and tried to meditate. While he was always deeply devoted to his spirituality, his ability to concentrate came and went with stressful times. It had been a while, but the moment felt right. He guessed it was probably sacrilegious to smoke a cigarette during one's meditation, but he couldn't help himself.
George fixed his eyes on a spot far out beyond where he stood. The lawn was sprawling and green leading up to the stone walls that edged his property.
The yellow spring flowers that he'd planted to hide the stone were his favorite. Wishing he could be out there, tending to them, he imagined himself all hunched over in the rain, raking fresh soil and pulling weeds.
A long crack of lightning tore through the sky, stretching down as if it were going to touch the grass. A huge grin spread across his face. George wondered if the next bolt would hit the ground, but he didn't have many trees that would attract lightning anyhow.
Now lost in his stream of thought, George remembered to direct himself back to his meditation. Once again he focused on a single spot in the yard, willing himself to think of nothing.
After a few minutes of standing in silence, cigarette still lit between his fingers, an incredibly electric feeling washed over him. It was like deja vu, as if he had dreamt himself in this exact scene the night before. But no, that wasn't it.
He felt incredibly.... he felt so.... well, he didn't know what. He placed a hand on his chest, fearing it was a heart attack. The feeling intensified, and his skin was prickling with goosebumps like a million needles.
Just then, another bolt of lightning cracked through the sky, hitting the lawn in the exact spot he'd been staring at. All at once, Kinfauns went dark as the lights gave out. George sighed and squinted, his eyes readjusting to the darkness.
"Wow..." he whispered to himself.
There, in the spot where the lightning had struck, was a dark object.
At first, George didn't know what he was looking at. After a long moment of darkness, more lightning struck, illuminating the yard.
It was a person, curled up on the lawn.
Panicked, George rushed to grab a flashlight from the pantry and pull a pair of boots up over his jeans. He threw his cigarette in the sink.
This was crazy. Absolutely and purely crazy.
Before, there had been no one. There had only been yard. And then, suddenly, there was a person. George couldn't wrap his head around it.
His mind went quiet once he ran out into the storm, focusing only on his feet hitting the muddy grass.
Sure enough, once he reached the edge of his lawn, the thing came into view.
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like a pomegranate | george harrisonRomance
Desperate for money, 21-year-old college student Cloud Harford agrees to participate in a lab experiment, unknowing she's about to travel through time to the sixties. One stormy day, a mysterious young woman appears on George Harrison's lawn. Seeing...