RavenBlue
Blue Crack Addict
Drawing near the end of this, but I'm splitting it up a bit just so it isn't too much at once. Thanks as always for all the kind words. You are all awesome!
Disclaimer: Not real letters, this is all a work of fiction. A rambling of imagination. I don't know the band personally etc etc.
--
Dear Diary,
Is that how you start your first diary entry? I mean, I've been using the U2 thing as a means of a diary. A diary that I don't keep mind you, but a diary. Well, it seems right now to write this, but at such a strange and surreal occasion that it simply needs more explanation.
It all started the other day. I'd just got home from work, had literally just thrown my uniform jacket towards the laundry hamper (I missed) when there was a knock at my door. I figured it was likely the landlord wanting me to pay up early or something. So it was to my great surprise that, when I opened the door that a certain man was standing there. The gears in my head started to click. Adam Clayton was at my door.
No, I wasn't drinking. I wasn't drugged. It wasn't even a result of being overtired. He was right there. All he said was "The band would like to take you up on that Shirley Temple". I just stood there, gawking like a right eejit. Then my manners finally kicked in and I ushered him inside. I told him to have a seat. That I'd be right with him. I rushed into the bedroom, slipped on some half decent jeans and smelled a shirt that looked clean and thankfully, smelled clean then darted back out, trying all the while not to appear like some crazy fan.
Well, he'd come here himself. He must not consider me a big threat. Right? Right.
Upon re-entering the living room, I found him hovering over my writing desk.
"Oh" he coughed "Pardon me, I was just curious to see..."
"If that was another random letter to U2?"
He smiled slightly, though there was a bit of embarrassment in his actions. Like he didn't like being caught. But I didn't care, I had nothing to hide. Besides, they knew more about me than anyone. Why would I care? He stared at me then, his smiled faded and he let out a long breath. He suddenly looked very stern.
"We were worried about you."
I laughed out loud. I thought he was kidding, but the look on his face didn't change. His eyes remained on me. Suddenly, I felt like a big tool.
"Your last letter, it was.. very dark. Then we hadn't heard from you for awhile. We'd gotten used.. looked forward to getting your letters." He paused for a second before continuing " Remember the date on the chess set."
I nodded and my gaze briefly left the poshest member of U2 to look at the set, perched on the display shelf like a proud songbird.
"It's tomorrow" I said.
"That's right" He smiled again and outstretched his hand towards mine. I, in turn, stared stupidly at his palm. "They're waiting" He said. "Come on"
And who was I to argue.
Disclaimer: Not real letters, this is all a work of fiction. A rambling of imagination. I don't know the band personally etc etc.
--
Dear Diary,
Is that how you start your first diary entry? I mean, I've been using the U2 thing as a means of a diary. A diary that I don't keep mind you, but a diary. Well, it seems right now to write this, but at such a strange and surreal occasion that it simply needs more explanation.
It all started the other day. I'd just got home from work, had literally just thrown my uniform jacket towards the laundry hamper (I missed) when there was a knock at my door. I figured it was likely the landlord wanting me to pay up early or something. So it was to my great surprise that, when I opened the door that a certain man was standing there. The gears in my head started to click. Adam Clayton was at my door.
No, I wasn't drinking. I wasn't drugged. It wasn't even a result of being overtired. He was right there. All he said was "The band would like to take you up on that Shirley Temple". I just stood there, gawking like a right eejit. Then my manners finally kicked in and I ushered him inside. I told him to have a seat. That I'd be right with him. I rushed into the bedroom, slipped on some half decent jeans and smelled a shirt that looked clean and thankfully, smelled clean then darted back out, trying all the while not to appear like some crazy fan.
Well, he'd come here himself. He must not consider me a big threat. Right? Right.
Upon re-entering the living room, I found him hovering over my writing desk.
"Oh" he coughed "Pardon me, I was just curious to see..."
"If that was another random letter to U2?"
He smiled slightly, though there was a bit of embarrassment in his actions. Like he didn't like being caught. But I didn't care, I had nothing to hide. Besides, they knew more about me than anyone. Why would I care? He stared at me then, his smiled faded and he let out a long breath. He suddenly looked very stern.
"We were worried about you."
I laughed out loud. I thought he was kidding, but the look on his face didn't change. His eyes remained on me. Suddenly, I felt like a big tool.
"Your last letter, it was.. very dark. Then we hadn't heard from you for awhile. We'd gotten used.. looked forward to getting your letters." He paused for a second before continuing " Remember the date on the chess set."
I nodded and my gaze briefly left the poshest member of U2 to look at the set, perched on the display shelf like a proud songbird.
"It's tomorrow" I said.
"That's right" He smiled again and outstretched his hand towards mine. I, in turn, stared stupidly at his palm. "They're waiting" He said. "Come on"
And who was I to argue.
Mmmm.... intriguing....
More soon, please!!
