Nowhere Men (George Harrison Fanfic)

Chapter 1.

I stared out the window of the old station wagon just staring at the open fields. I listened as my parents gloated and listened to some classy song about love and all that shite. I groaned and leaned up, changing the station. Robert Plant filling the air with his sweet voice.

The year is 1975. I'm fourteen years old. My name? George Harrison.

I really didn't want to move from Liverpool, England. We gave up everything to move to this shithole of a place. Michigan. Yes. Michigan as in the United States, Michigan. We could have atleast moved to a better part. Instead we move into a not so safe neighborhood. Going to a shit highschool, full of fuckin pricks and whores who will probably eat me alive.

I sighed dramatically as my mum singed happily.

"Were here!"

I rolled my eyes and looked out the window at the tall house. It wasn't as bad as I expected. I still don't want to live here.

"Come on son! Ye can pick your own room!" My father yelled outside the vehicle. I nodded and got out, the warmth of the breeze brushing against my arms.

"Wow. This is really happenin huh?" I said shoving my hands in my pockets.

"You promised you'd give it a chance." Mum said patting my back. I sighed again and walked into the empty building. I looked around at the wide space. I shook my head as I made my way up the creaking stairs.

"Fucking hell it's a shithole." I whispered to myself. That was until I walked into my room. It was a bit small but...I was in love. I smiled and walked around, brushing my hand against the wall. I looked out the window, down at my father, smoking a cigarette and helping me mum carrying boxes from the car to the house.

"George come down and help!" My father yelled. I groaned and ran downstairs, rushing over to me mum as she carried my box marked George's music things.

"Be careful!" I yelled grabbing the box from her hands. She gave me a strange look and shook her head.

"Bloody child needs a new hobby."

I made a face and carried the box up to my room and opened it. I smiled and pulled out the long cylinders that contained my posters, the box also containing my faded band t shirts, records, sheets of music, concert tickets stubs, and magazines.

"George! Your guitar!" Dad yelled.

I ran back downstairs and grabbed the case, along with my record player and clothes. I didn't have much, but this was a new place, a new start.

..

"Aye dad, Can I 'ave some money?" I asked walking into his and mums room.

"What for?"

I shrugged. "I thought I'd go into town and maybe get to know the area. It's only four in the evening."

He sighed and pulled out his wallet.

"Fine. 'ere."

I smiled and shoved it into my pocket. "Thanks."

"Be back for dinner alright?" He said sternly. I nodded and made my way downstairs, out the door, past the gate and down the road. I kicked a small stone as I walked into town. I walked into a small music shop and looked around.

Magazines everywhere, instruments, vinyls. It was magical. I looked over a guitar and fiddled with the strings. I heard commotion at the front of the shop as three blokes ran out of the shop, laughing as the manager shouted after them.

I chuckled to myself and shook my head. Maybe I could get used to this place.

....