spanna
The Fly
just want to thank you all again for your feedback and comments, means a lot! Also to warn of violence and bad language. I have a sicker mind than I realised 
lol
Chapter Two
Note: Chapter is entirely from Bono’s perspective
2nd October 2001, 6.45 am.
I wake early. I withdraw my arms from around Grace, the sleeping beauty won’t wake up for some hours yet as it’s the weekend.
I smile down at her for a minute and then go to open the curtains, it’s a wet, grey day, the type of we have on the east coast of Ireland pretty much constantly from September to April.
I press my face against the window, my breath steaming the glass and look out at the grey, blue ocean flecked with green and brown, swelling and churning, cresting and falling. I hear Oscar bark downstairs, the bark that says “I know you’re up dad, come and take us for a walk”.
I hum a melody that I woke up with, lyrics keep popping into my head too so I’ll have to meet up with The Edge sometime today. However, the dogs’ needs come first so I go down to tend to them and let them into the garden. I make myself a coffee and go to do some work on the computer and email Edge to arrange a meet up this morning.
As I work through replying to the billion emails I’ve received, a pop up comes up on the screen saying that IheartUrkel@U2.com has sent me an email. I open it to read:
October 4th 2001 at 7.15 am GMT, The Edge wrote
Hi,
Sure, I can meet up this morning. Earlier the better. I’ll pick you up from yours in half an hour, we’ll go to the studio, I’ve got a chord sequence that definitely has potential. Oh and please wait outside the gate, I bought a new Mercedes yesterday (it was a spur of the moment thing) and you know how your security cameras hate “Unknown Vehicles”.
Slainte
Edge
I’m surprised, it’s only seven thirty and Edge is far more of a night owl than a morning lark. As for the new car. I rub my nose confusedly. Eh, well. I quickly reply to confirm, turn off the computer and go to have a shower. Look for my phone but can’t find it.
Grace is still sound asleep when I go to change into a black shirt and trousers. I fasten my rosary round my neck and bend to where her head lies on the pillow, a mass of dark hair fanning out. A smile forms on her unconscious lips and I press mine to hers for perhaps longer than I should. But she doesn’t wake.
Write her a quick note to explain my absence and stick it to the bedroom mirror. I put on my coat, go back downstairs and outside into the wild and wet to wait by the gates.
7.45 am
I see a Mercedes coming towards me, Edge is driving very fast which is unlike him. The car skids to a halt, the smell of burning rubber filling my nostrils for a minute.
Two men get out of the car, I freeze, where is Edge. Oh god! Run! For fuck’s sakes B, run! My feet are not moving though, fixed to the pavement. Vico Road is silent, not even an early dog walker to help. Jesus! I drop my wallet behind me which I’d been holding and pray they don’t notice.
They grab me, I struggle, desperate to jerk free, a huge, rough hand is clapped across my mouth before I can make any verbal cry. Sunglasses knocked from my eyes and I hear the crunch as they hit the tarmac.
I am shoved into the back of the car, gagged, tied and bound until they get in the front and drive off very fast. I lie like a trussed bird, face against the upholstery, inhaling through my nose the smell of leather. Stupid, stupid Bono. How could I be such an idiot.
‘So we have de mirrorbaaarll man,’ the driver’s accent is a thick northern Ireland brogue, grating against my shattered nerves ‘de floiiy! Mr MacPhisto, De political activist with de messianic complex. But de worst persona of all, de rockstar who tinks he can get away wit having affairs wit anyone. Eh!’
The bloke in the passenger seat lets out a ringing nasal laugh, turns round and smacks the back of my skull with something hard. A piercing pain fills my entire head.
‘What yer got to say to that Bone-o,’ the other voice is English ‘Bone-o.’
Hot hammers beat against my skull, a migraine like pain starts behind the back of my eyes, white hot pain fills my head and neck.
Nausea rises in my stomach that I just manage to suppress by biting my lip.
Shouldn’t have done that, bit my lip so hard it lip bleeds and the tangy, metallic taste of blood fills my mouth.
I’m struck in the small of my back for that with the same unidentifiable instrument that was used for my head. I groan…the two men laugh. Sadist pigs.
Breathing is agony now, lungs feel tight. I feel literally like a fish out of water, gasping and spluttering to the amusement of the men in the front.
‘Oh dear is our Bono struggling to breade,’ the driver says jeeringly ‘but if you are de next Jaysis dat everyooone says yer are, yer’ll be foine. Dear me, we are soilent and yer such a chatty one so my boss says. He should know! Oh yes Mr O Connell knows yer well. ’
My back is whacked again. Grace’s face swims before my eyes distorted and misshapen like a Picasso painting.
Darkness before my eyes, in my mind.
Trying to hold on, hold on Bono. Pray, anything. Memory comes back.
Grey afternoon in Northern Dublin in the 70s. Running through the Ballymun estate.
Skinhead bully like men in front chasing me. I’m running for my life, this guy was probably the same age as me but twice my size and strength.
Running, running until I could run no more. Going down on my knees between the seven towers.
Skinhead catches up with me, big club in his hands.
I want to die…might see my mother again. Why did yer leave me here alone?. Alison. There’s the band too. No, can’t die.
My eyes fall upon a dustbin lid, grabbed it! Hold it up as a shield.
Skinhead bangs club against it a few times… but then Guggi turns up. Guggi’s small too but tough and is known for it. The skinhead runs off.
Flashback finishes. Guggi, my mate, all my mates. The band. And Grace, my girl alone. I need her. I want her…
Blackness is coming now, I can’t fight it off and I’m swallowed by it.
lol Chapter Two
Note: Chapter is entirely from Bono’s perspective
2nd October 2001, 6.45 am.
I wake early. I withdraw my arms from around Grace, the sleeping beauty won’t wake up for some hours yet as it’s the weekend.
I smile down at her for a minute and then go to open the curtains, it’s a wet, grey day, the type of we have on the east coast of Ireland pretty much constantly from September to April.
I press my face against the window, my breath steaming the glass and look out at the grey, blue ocean flecked with green and brown, swelling and churning, cresting and falling. I hear Oscar bark downstairs, the bark that says “I know you’re up dad, come and take us for a walk”.
I hum a melody that I woke up with, lyrics keep popping into my head too so I’ll have to meet up with The Edge sometime today. However, the dogs’ needs come first so I go down to tend to them and let them into the garden. I make myself a coffee and go to do some work on the computer and email Edge to arrange a meet up this morning.
As I work through replying to the billion emails I’ve received, a pop up comes up on the screen saying that IheartUrkel@U2.com has sent me an email. I open it to read:
October 4th 2001 at 7.15 am GMT, The Edge wrote
Hi,
Sure, I can meet up this morning. Earlier the better. I’ll pick you up from yours in half an hour, we’ll go to the studio, I’ve got a chord sequence that definitely has potential. Oh and please wait outside the gate, I bought a new Mercedes yesterday (it was a spur of the moment thing) and you know how your security cameras hate “Unknown Vehicles”.
Slainte
Edge
I’m surprised, it’s only seven thirty and Edge is far more of a night owl than a morning lark. As for the new car. I rub my nose confusedly. Eh, well. I quickly reply to confirm, turn off the computer and go to have a shower. Look for my phone but can’t find it.
Grace is still sound asleep when I go to change into a black shirt and trousers. I fasten my rosary round my neck and bend to where her head lies on the pillow, a mass of dark hair fanning out. A smile forms on her unconscious lips and I press mine to hers for perhaps longer than I should. But she doesn’t wake.
Write her a quick note to explain my absence and stick it to the bedroom mirror. I put on my coat, go back downstairs and outside into the wild and wet to wait by the gates.
7.45 am
I see a Mercedes coming towards me, Edge is driving very fast which is unlike him. The car skids to a halt, the smell of burning rubber filling my nostrils for a minute.
Two men get out of the car, I freeze, where is Edge. Oh god! Run! For fuck’s sakes B, run! My feet are not moving though, fixed to the pavement. Vico Road is silent, not even an early dog walker to help. Jesus! I drop my wallet behind me which I’d been holding and pray they don’t notice.
They grab me, I struggle, desperate to jerk free, a huge, rough hand is clapped across my mouth before I can make any verbal cry. Sunglasses knocked from my eyes and I hear the crunch as they hit the tarmac.
I am shoved into the back of the car, gagged, tied and bound until they get in the front and drive off very fast. I lie like a trussed bird, face against the upholstery, inhaling through my nose the smell of leather. Stupid, stupid Bono. How could I be such an idiot.
‘So we have de mirrorbaaarll man,’ the driver’s accent is a thick northern Ireland brogue, grating against my shattered nerves ‘de floiiy! Mr MacPhisto, De political activist with de messianic complex. But de worst persona of all, de rockstar who tinks he can get away wit having affairs wit anyone. Eh!’
The bloke in the passenger seat lets out a ringing nasal laugh, turns round and smacks the back of my skull with something hard. A piercing pain fills my entire head.
‘What yer got to say to that Bone-o,’ the other voice is English ‘Bone-o.’
Hot hammers beat against my skull, a migraine like pain starts behind the back of my eyes, white hot pain fills my head and neck.
Nausea rises in my stomach that I just manage to suppress by biting my lip.
Shouldn’t have done that, bit my lip so hard it lip bleeds and the tangy, metallic taste of blood fills my mouth.
I’m struck in the small of my back for that with the same unidentifiable instrument that was used for my head. I groan…the two men laugh. Sadist pigs.
Breathing is agony now, lungs feel tight. I feel literally like a fish out of water, gasping and spluttering to the amusement of the men in the front.
‘Oh dear is our Bono struggling to breade,’ the driver says jeeringly ‘but if you are de next Jaysis dat everyooone says yer are, yer’ll be foine. Dear me, we are soilent and yer such a chatty one so my boss says. He should know! Oh yes Mr O Connell knows yer well. ’
My back is whacked again. Grace’s face swims before my eyes distorted and misshapen like a Picasso painting.
Darkness before my eyes, in my mind.
Trying to hold on, hold on Bono. Pray, anything. Memory comes back.
Grey afternoon in Northern Dublin in the 70s. Running through the Ballymun estate.
Skinhead bully like men in front chasing me. I’m running for my life, this guy was probably the same age as me but twice my size and strength.
Running, running until I could run no more. Going down on my knees between the seven towers.
Skinhead catches up with me, big club in his hands.
I want to die…might see my mother again. Why did yer leave me here alone?. Alison. There’s the band too. No, can’t die.
My eyes fall upon a dustbin lid, grabbed it! Hold it up as a shield.
Skinhead bangs club against it a few times… but then Guggi turns up. Guggi’s small too but tough and is known for it. The skinhead runs off.
Flashback finishes. Guggi, my mate, all my mates. The band. And Grace, my girl alone. I need her. I want her…
Blackness is coming now, I can’t fight it off and I’m swallowed by it.
Last edited:
oh wow, cliffhanger... can't wait to see where this is goign!
! You sure did do a good job of building the tension, my stomach is all in knots right now.
I hope he's not too hurt & can't wait to find out what happens next. xx
