Sad_Girl
Blue Crack Supplier
disclaimer: This is not based on any actual events; The people represented here are done so Fictitiously. It's just a little work of fan fiction inspired by the works and words of U2. Natalie and other new characters introduced are sole property of the author. That said, I hope you read this with an open mind and a sense of humor and adventure. Buckle yours seatbelts ladies and gentlemen, it looks like it might be a strange, wild ride.
Twilight
When the phone rings at 3 a.m., it’s rarely good news. This holds true for most people, and it did for Dave Evans as well. Dave, the man most known as ‘The Edge’, was one quarter of the world-famous musical group ‘U2’. He and his three mates had been changing the world one set of ears at a time for more than twenty years now, and they were still going strong. As a matter of fact, on the night in question when the phone began to ring at 3 a.m., The Edge was wide awake and working out the details of a new song. He was a night person, waking up more when the rest of the world was slowing down for the day and reaching his creative peak while most were soundly asleep. He jumped in surprise at the sound of the phone, cursing under his breath and grasping his guitar as if he might wield it as a weapon. He let out a slow breath as his heart slowed down to a more normal pace and his usually sharp mind comprehended the sudden, unexpected noise. He reached over the arm of the sofa and grasped the phone receiver, hitting the ‘talk’ button with his thumb.
“Hello?” He inquired, his nerves jangling as he awaited the purpose for the mid-night call.
“Edge.” Bono greeted him, his voice tired and troubled. Edge frowned immediately at the sound of his friends voice; Bono was more of an ‘early to bed, early to rise’ person usually. “Do you have the copy of that track we were trying to lay down, the one that kept getting the strange interference?” Bono asked, his voice more urgent than his words would seem to require. Edge glanced over at the table at the unopened package which contained the track in question.
“Yeah. What’s the matter man?” He asked as he moved to open the package quickly, his curiosity piqued.
“I… fuck this is gonna sound weird, man, but I had a dream about it…” Bono started, sighing heavily on the other end of the line.
“That’s not particularly strange.” Edge remarked as he slid his duplicate copy of the song into the CD-ROM drive on his computer.
“It wasn’t a normal dream.” Bono told him, becoming agitated. “I … Just listen to the part with the interference. You need to isolate the source, separate it from as much as you can by turning down the bass and everything.” He instructed, and Edge quickly called up his digital sound editor to have a listen. All he ended up with was a sound that reminded him of the scratches on an old Vinyl LP, but with less regularity of rhythm.
“I still don’t understand, what’s…” He started to ask but Bono interrupted.
“Did you hear her?” He asked, and concern shot through Edge’s body like a bolt of electricity. There was something decidedly strange about his friend tonight. Bono had never been exactly normal, but this was something else altogether.
“Her? Her who?”
“I… I don’t know, damn it!” Bono hissed through gritted teeth.
“Look, man, do you want me to come over there?” Edge asked, “Where’s Ali?”
“She’s sleeping, I didn’t bother her with this. At least one of us should get some sleep.” He replied, his voice drooping into a low monotone of defeat. “I think I’m losing my bloody mind.” Edge waited silently for him to elaborate, but he never got the explanation he had hoped for. “Look, forget it. It was just a bad dream, I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” Bono told him quickly, breaking the connection before Edge could say anything more. He frowned at the phone as his mind tried to wrap around the meaning of the call, but all he got was more confused. He turned back to the computer and kept adjusting the sound, trying to isolate and enhance the source of the strange interference. It was just past dawn when he heard it clearly. A woman’s voice, or at least something similar enough to it. He still couldn’t tell what she was saying, but he heard something finally. A few hours later, he showed up at the studio, disc in hand and plenty of questions in mind. He took one look around them room and could tell he wasn’t the only one who’d lost sleep the night before. Bono’s usual swagger was missing from his posture, his shoulders drooping forward, his hair hanging loose around his face. Edge knew he himself must look a miserable wreck; he was still wearing the same jeans and T-shirt he’d been in the day before and he could almost feel the drooping bags beneath his eyes. Adam sat, head in hand, at the table, his other hand grasping a giant Styrofoam cup of coffee. Larry was nowhere to be seen.
“I’m not dead.” Edge said, dropping the disc with a clatter onto the table top. Adam and Bono were both jarred visibly by his words, their eyes round as they stared at him, dumbfounded.
“Jay-sus.” Adam muttered, releasing his grip on the coffee cup to rub his tired eyes.
“I’m not dead.” Edge repeated, his eyes swinging from Adam to Bono. “That’s what she said.”
“Are you sure?” Bono asked, screwing up his face as he considered his friends words. Something about it didn’t settle right in his gut. Of course, this whole damned thing was unsettling.
“No, I’m not sure! I might bloody well be hearing things because I got a disturbing phone call in that planted crazy ideas in my head. I’m not sure about any of this. Are you ready to tell me about this dream, now?” Edge demanded, pulling out a seat at the table beside Adam, who was patting himself down in search of a lighter, an unlit cigarette dangling from his lips.
“You can’t light that in here.” Edge reminded him, and Adam tossed his long time friend a look that would kill if it could. He found his lighter and flicked the switch defiantly, drawing in several deep puffs of the soothing poison.
“Feck, I can’t!” He told him as he exhaled. “After you come in here saying shit like that!” He exclaimed, taking another long hit, his eyes narrowing as he did. “I’m not dead. It fits, doesn’t it?” He said, turning this time to Bono, who nodded silently, chewing on his lower lip.
“Wait, what?”
“I been dreaming this bloody dream for the past week!” Adam informed him, licking his dry lips.
“The same dream?”
“More or less.” He told him with a shrug.
“Same woman.” Bono finally spoke up, running his hands through his shaggy black hair. “She’s fairly average height, maybe a little chubby but not unattractive. At first there’s nothing remarkable about her, except for her eyes.” He explained, and Adam nodded. “They’re… translucent green. I mean, I’ve seen blue eyes that were like that; almost more like a lightly shaded film than a solid color. I’ve never seen Green eyes do that; they’re almost yellow.” He continued.
“Amber.” Adam added, his own eyes distant, focused on the far wall as he thought about the woman from the dream.
“And they’re so sad. I mean you want to cry just looking at her, it’s like having your heart ripped right outta your chest.” Bono told him, on a roll now that he was finally talking about it. “And she’s trying to tell me something, but I can’t hear her.” He finished sadly.
“Where were you in this dream?” Edge asked, his own chest feeling tight at the implications of Bono and Adam’s story.
“Here, in the studio.” Bono replied, but She’s in the sound booth. No one else sees her, and when I go into the booth to try and get closer, try and hear what she’s saying to me, she’s gone.”
“Is that the same for you?” Edge asked Adam, who shook his head, crushing the remains of his cigarette in the bottom of his coffee cup.
“No. In one we were on stage and she was in the audience. I couldn’t see faces on anyone else, it was like they were blurry shapes, and she was out there moving amongst them. Staring at me, never taking those sad eyes off me. She reached out to me even, and a moved to the edge of the stage and tried to reach for her but she’s pulled away by the crowd.” He explained. “The others were similar, but they were more abstract; I can’t really describe a setting. In all of them, though, she was reaching out, trying to talk to me and I couldn’t understand her. I couldn’t reach her, help her. It was just odd the first two times, but after a week it got really frustrating! Then last night when Bono called me…” He shook his head at the thought.
“It got beyond weird or frustrating. It got creepy.” Larry said, and all three men jumped at the sound of his voice. They had been so enthralled in the retelling of this dream they hadn’t heard him enter. He ran a big hand over his tired face and looked at Edge, hopeful that he would have some sort of logical answer for them.
“You dreamed her too?” He asked in utter disbelief.
“Ann woke me, said I was saying some other woman’s name in sleep. That was a fun conversation, let me tell you.” He grumbled.
“What name?”
“Natalie.” He breathed her name on a sigh, reaching for Adam’s lighter which was still on the table. He stood to leave the building again, cigarette in hand and sniffed the air slightly. “Someone smoking in here?” His question went unanswered as the others considered this new bit of information in silence. With a shrug he moved outside to smoke, finding the men all still seated in the same spot in silence when he returned. Finally, Edge broke the silence.
“You ever heard of EVP?” He asked.
“Wasn’t that a movie?” Adam replied.
“Sort of… I don’t know much about it really, but it’s something to do with these people who hunt ghosts. I’ve a couple of programs about them, supposedly ‘reality’ shows. I thought it was all bollocks. Now I don’t know.” Edge replied with a shake of his head.
“So what you’re saying is we’re being haunted.” Larry said, his voice dry in disbelief.
“I don’t know, Lar. Do you have a better explanation? Is it all coincidence?” Edge asked sharply, shoving his seat back from the table and rising to leave.
“What’re you going to do?” Adam asked, frowning more deeply than usual.
“You asked me if I knew what this might be, well I don’t. Not really. But I mean to find out.”
To be continued…
Twilight
When the phone rings at 3 a.m., it’s rarely good news. This holds true for most people, and it did for Dave Evans as well. Dave, the man most known as ‘The Edge’, was one quarter of the world-famous musical group ‘U2’. He and his three mates had been changing the world one set of ears at a time for more than twenty years now, and they were still going strong. As a matter of fact, on the night in question when the phone began to ring at 3 a.m., The Edge was wide awake and working out the details of a new song. He was a night person, waking up more when the rest of the world was slowing down for the day and reaching his creative peak while most were soundly asleep. He jumped in surprise at the sound of the phone, cursing under his breath and grasping his guitar as if he might wield it as a weapon. He let out a slow breath as his heart slowed down to a more normal pace and his usually sharp mind comprehended the sudden, unexpected noise. He reached over the arm of the sofa and grasped the phone receiver, hitting the ‘talk’ button with his thumb.
“Hello?” He inquired, his nerves jangling as he awaited the purpose for the mid-night call.
“Edge.” Bono greeted him, his voice tired and troubled. Edge frowned immediately at the sound of his friends voice; Bono was more of an ‘early to bed, early to rise’ person usually. “Do you have the copy of that track we were trying to lay down, the one that kept getting the strange interference?” Bono asked, his voice more urgent than his words would seem to require. Edge glanced over at the table at the unopened package which contained the track in question.
“Yeah. What’s the matter man?” He asked as he moved to open the package quickly, his curiosity piqued.
“I… fuck this is gonna sound weird, man, but I had a dream about it…” Bono started, sighing heavily on the other end of the line.
“That’s not particularly strange.” Edge remarked as he slid his duplicate copy of the song into the CD-ROM drive on his computer.
“It wasn’t a normal dream.” Bono told him, becoming agitated. “I … Just listen to the part with the interference. You need to isolate the source, separate it from as much as you can by turning down the bass and everything.” He instructed, and Edge quickly called up his digital sound editor to have a listen. All he ended up with was a sound that reminded him of the scratches on an old Vinyl LP, but with less regularity of rhythm.
“I still don’t understand, what’s…” He started to ask but Bono interrupted.
“Did you hear her?” He asked, and concern shot through Edge’s body like a bolt of electricity. There was something decidedly strange about his friend tonight. Bono had never been exactly normal, but this was something else altogether.
“Her? Her who?”
“I… I don’t know, damn it!” Bono hissed through gritted teeth.
“Look, man, do you want me to come over there?” Edge asked, “Where’s Ali?”
“She’s sleeping, I didn’t bother her with this. At least one of us should get some sleep.” He replied, his voice drooping into a low monotone of defeat. “I think I’m losing my bloody mind.” Edge waited silently for him to elaborate, but he never got the explanation he had hoped for. “Look, forget it. It was just a bad dream, I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” Bono told him quickly, breaking the connection before Edge could say anything more. He frowned at the phone as his mind tried to wrap around the meaning of the call, but all he got was more confused. He turned back to the computer and kept adjusting the sound, trying to isolate and enhance the source of the strange interference. It was just past dawn when he heard it clearly. A woman’s voice, or at least something similar enough to it. He still couldn’t tell what she was saying, but he heard something finally. A few hours later, he showed up at the studio, disc in hand and plenty of questions in mind. He took one look around them room and could tell he wasn’t the only one who’d lost sleep the night before. Bono’s usual swagger was missing from his posture, his shoulders drooping forward, his hair hanging loose around his face. Edge knew he himself must look a miserable wreck; he was still wearing the same jeans and T-shirt he’d been in the day before and he could almost feel the drooping bags beneath his eyes. Adam sat, head in hand, at the table, his other hand grasping a giant Styrofoam cup of coffee. Larry was nowhere to be seen.
“I’m not dead.” Edge said, dropping the disc with a clatter onto the table top. Adam and Bono were both jarred visibly by his words, their eyes round as they stared at him, dumbfounded.
“Jay-sus.” Adam muttered, releasing his grip on the coffee cup to rub his tired eyes.
“I’m not dead.” Edge repeated, his eyes swinging from Adam to Bono. “That’s what she said.”
“Are you sure?” Bono asked, screwing up his face as he considered his friends words. Something about it didn’t settle right in his gut. Of course, this whole damned thing was unsettling.
“No, I’m not sure! I might bloody well be hearing things because I got a disturbing phone call in that planted crazy ideas in my head. I’m not sure about any of this. Are you ready to tell me about this dream, now?” Edge demanded, pulling out a seat at the table beside Adam, who was patting himself down in search of a lighter, an unlit cigarette dangling from his lips.
“You can’t light that in here.” Edge reminded him, and Adam tossed his long time friend a look that would kill if it could. He found his lighter and flicked the switch defiantly, drawing in several deep puffs of the soothing poison.
“Feck, I can’t!” He told him as he exhaled. “After you come in here saying shit like that!” He exclaimed, taking another long hit, his eyes narrowing as he did. “I’m not dead. It fits, doesn’t it?” He said, turning this time to Bono, who nodded silently, chewing on his lower lip.
“Wait, what?”
“I been dreaming this bloody dream for the past week!” Adam informed him, licking his dry lips.
“The same dream?”
“More or less.” He told him with a shrug.
“Same woman.” Bono finally spoke up, running his hands through his shaggy black hair. “She’s fairly average height, maybe a little chubby but not unattractive. At first there’s nothing remarkable about her, except for her eyes.” He explained, and Adam nodded. “They’re… translucent green. I mean, I’ve seen blue eyes that were like that; almost more like a lightly shaded film than a solid color. I’ve never seen Green eyes do that; they’re almost yellow.” He continued.
“Amber.” Adam added, his own eyes distant, focused on the far wall as he thought about the woman from the dream.
“And they’re so sad. I mean you want to cry just looking at her, it’s like having your heart ripped right outta your chest.” Bono told him, on a roll now that he was finally talking about it. “And she’s trying to tell me something, but I can’t hear her.” He finished sadly.
“Where were you in this dream?” Edge asked, his own chest feeling tight at the implications of Bono and Adam’s story.
“Here, in the studio.” Bono replied, but She’s in the sound booth. No one else sees her, and when I go into the booth to try and get closer, try and hear what she’s saying to me, she’s gone.”
“Is that the same for you?” Edge asked Adam, who shook his head, crushing the remains of his cigarette in the bottom of his coffee cup.
“No. In one we were on stage and she was in the audience. I couldn’t see faces on anyone else, it was like they were blurry shapes, and she was out there moving amongst them. Staring at me, never taking those sad eyes off me. She reached out to me even, and a moved to the edge of the stage and tried to reach for her but she’s pulled away by the crowd.” He explained. “The others were similar, but they were more abstract; I can’t really describe a setting. In all of them, though, she was reaching out, trying to talk to me and I couldn’t understand her. I couldn’t reach her, help her. It was just odd the first two times, but after a week it got really frustrating! Then last night when Bono called me…” He shook his head at the thought.
“It got beyond weird or frustrating. It got creepy.” Larry said, and all three men jumped at the sound of his voice. They had been so enthralled in the retelling of this dream they hadn’t heard him enter. He ran a big hand over his tired face and looked at Edge, hopeful that he would have some sort of logical answer for them.
“You dreamed her too?” He asked in utter disbelief.
“Ann woke me, said I was saying some other woman’s name in sleep. That was a fun conversation, let me tell you.” He grumbled.
“What name?”
“Natalie.” He breathed her name on a sigh, reaching for Adam’s lighter which was still on the table. He stood to leave the building again, cigarette in hand and sniffed the air slightly. “Someone smoking in here?” His question went unanswered as the others considered this new bit of information in silence. With a shrug he moved outside to smoke, finding the men all still seated in the same spot in silence when he returned. Finally, Edge broke the silence.
“You ever heard of EVP?” He asked.
“Wasn’t that a movie?” Adam replied.
“Sort of… I don’t know much about it really, but it’s something to do with these people who hunt ghosts. I’ve a couple of programs about them, supposedly ‘reality’ shows. I thought it was all bollocks. Now I don’t know.” Edge replied with a shake of his head.
“So what you’re saying is we’re being haunted.” Larry said, his voice dry in disbelief.
“I don’t know, Lar. Do you have a better explanation? Is it all coincidence?” Edge asked sharply, shoving his seat back from the table and rising to leave.
“What’re you going to do?” Adam asked, frowning more deeply than usual.
“You asked me if I knew what this might be, well I don’t. Not really. But I mean to find out.”
To be continued…
But keep going!!! 
