Two Of Us in Buckeye Hollow

Clara & Dana hunt Beatles' tapes in haunted Buckeye Hollow, facing the Shadow's wrath.

The wind wailed through Buckeye Hollow, like the shadow of a scar in the Ouachita's pine-hickory heart, where the veil between realms was frayed — a worn tapestry. Clara froze on the moonlit path, her breath caught; whispers — soft, urgent — swirled, she was chanting “Girl.” The voice hissed, "find it, before the Shadow does." An electric chill crawled down her spine, and the air was oppressive. Something unseen grazed her cheek, then pressed against her breast, pinning her to a gnarled buckeye tree. "Get Back, to the hollow's heart!" the voices sang, then silence. Clara's pulse raced Helter Skelter, questions spiraling in her mind: What pushed me? What am I supposed to find, there was No Reply.

She continued through on to her sister Dana's shop. In the dawn, the morning light was breaking in hues of ash and amber. The door flew open as Clara reached for it, and Dana's silhouette filled the doorway. “Ahhh! Clara, you nearly scared me outta my britches!" Dana yelped.

“L O L!, Same, girl!" Clara gasped, her heart still racing as if she were dancing to Twist & Shout. "Dana, I ain't here for dancin' lessons. Something's in that holler — whispers are callin' my name, a force pinned me like a bug on a board. It said Get Back, like it knows me."

Dana's eyes widened, and Clara heard a tremble in her voice. “Ghosts, Clara? That's wilder than a hog in a peach orchard. You sure it wasn't just the wind?"

"Don't play dumb!” Clara snapped. "I saw it in your eyes — you've heard 'em too. Spill it, or I'll shake it outta you!”

Dana sighed. "Alright, last spring, I was traipsin' through the holler, and whispers sang Dear Prudence, like they was beggin' me to come closer. Scared me so bad I ran home and locked the door. I didn't tell you 'cause I thought you'd call me crazy."

Clara's gaze softened. "Crazy? Dana, we're just the Two of Us — you shoulda told me. The whispers knew my name. What else you hidin’?”

"Nothin', I swear," Dana said, her voice cracking. “I’m just scared, Clara. It felt like them voices were inside my bones, singin' my secrets to the world. But — if you're in, I'm in." She crossed to a trunk, pulling out a leather journal. “I found this in Mama's things. It might hold answers."

The journal's pages were brittle as Yesterday's promises, and revealed Lunara Weeps' secret. In 1966, her beauty charmed her way backstage at the Beatles' Memphis concert, where George Harrison's starlit eyes met hers amidst the firecracker chaos. Letters followed, hers were inked with Things We Said Today, his were musing on A Day in the Life. In 1968, George returned to Memphis for Apple Corps, and their two-week fling burned bright like Sol. He gifted her a copy of the White Album master tapes, reels of While My Guitar Gently Weeps — his heart's lament for their fleeting love. Lunara's final entry chilled: "The Shadow, a cabal hating the Beatles' light, hunts these tapes. I hid them where buckeyes fall, hopefully safe from their darkness."

The Hollow's Call
At dusk, the sisters ventured into Buckeye Hollow, clutching the Journal. Clara's voice trembled, "Mama's words are alive, Dana."

Dana gripped her flashlight, her boots crunching pine needles. "Guidin' or hauntin'? This place feels like it's watchin' us, Clara. You sure we ain't chasin' a ghost story?"

”Mama hid them tapes for us. Don't chicken out now — you're tougher than that."

Dana snorted, I'm shakin' like a leaf in a storm, but I ain't leavin' you." The whispers returned, weaving Octopus's Garden's lullaby. A buckeye nut carved with an apple symbol rolled to their feet.

The Shadow surged. "You'll never find it!" it roared. Clara clutched Dana's arm, her heart pounding like Helter Skelter.
"Run, Dana!" Clara shouted, dragging her sister. They fled, the apple-carved nut their only clue.

The Dream's Warning
In Dana's shop, Clara traced the apple symbol. "This is Mama's map to the tapes. You feel her in this, don't you?"

Dana's hands shook, she was almost in Tears. "Feel her? What if the Shadow's right? What if we ain't meant to find it?"

Clara knelt. "You're scared. I'm shakin' too. But Mama chose us — just the Two of Us against this dark whatever it is. You're my rock, Dana, even though you're stubborn like a mule."

Dana's laugh was half-sob. "Stubborn? You're the one chasin' ghosts. But fine, I'm with you." That night, Dana’s dreams brought whispers: "Dear Prudence, greet the brand-new day… find the apple." Dana woke, clutching Clara's hand. "I saw it too," she whispered, her voice steadier. "A cave, apple-carved at the entrance. Mama's callin' us. Let's do this."

The Cave's Secret
By moonlight’s guide, they reached the cave, its mouth etched with an apple. Clara whispered, "This is it, Dana. Mama's tapes, her love for George — it's all here."

Dana's flashlight flickered. "Love? More like trouble. You sure these tapes are worth dyin' for?"

"Worth livin' for," Clara said, her voice soundin’ like a While My Guitar Gently Weeps lament. "Mama hid 'em for us, to keep the Beatles' light alive. We're her legacy, Dana." The whispers swelled, a chorus of A Day in the Life's surreal lament.

The Shadow materialized — a collective of shattered voices, greed's echo--chanting, "Get Back! Leave the tapes!" It pressed them against damp walls, the air was thick. Clara's hand found an Apple Records box in a recess in the cave wall. Dana's light caught a second carving, a star beside the apple, hinting at more treasures.

The Shadow lunged, Clara sang While My Guitar Gently Weeps. "Keep singin', Clara!" Dana shouted. "It's backin' off!" They ran, tapes in hand. At the hollow's edge, a whisper lingered: "Two of Us, seek on…" The sisters held the tapes, the star-carving a promise of more in Buckeye Hollow's veiled depths, the Shadow's hunger not satisfied.

999 Words in the story above.

—Noisy Wren, '25 — For Week 2 of The Beatles Musical Extravaganza