Lenora's Fiction Archive

The Dream part 10

The first day each semi-finalist played a one-hour set. We were on at three P.M., which suited all of us well, since none of us, excepting Peter, were morning people. We played the same set as weíd played at the Club Cassandra just a few days before, minus "Cuddly Toy" and "All the Kings Horses." We were the only group to get a standing ovation from the audience that day.

The second day we had to show off our individual talents. We were taken into a small room one at a time and asked to perform different pieces. I was asked to play different bass lines, a short piano piece, and sing both with accompaniment and a capella. Then they asked me to perform a piece of my choice using whatever instruments I wanted. I sang an arrangement of an old Scottish song, "Skye Boat Song" that Iíd devised, with just a little acoustic guitar. Over dinner the guys said they had been asked to do pretty much the same.

The third day the finalists were announced early in the morning. We were one of the three finalists! Each finalist was to play a three hour set. We went last, at four P.M. We played the same set as at the Cassandra to start. Then we added a new arrangement of "Shades of Gray," followed by "The Door Into Summer," "Tear the Top Right Off Of My Head," "Propiniquity," "Shake Em Up," "Mommy and Daddy," "Calico Girlfriend Samba," "Carlisle Wheeling," "Little Girl," "Ladyís Baby," "As We Go Along," "Sweet Young Thing," "Long Title," "Can You Dig It," "Papa Geneís Blues," "A Little Bit Me, A Little Bit You," "Randy Scouse Git," a rock version of "I Wanna Be Free," "Ditty Diego," and "Donít Wait for Me." We finished off with "Iím a Believer."

At 8 P.M. we were seated at a table in the large banquet hall of the hotel, the guys in tuxes and Isa and I in black dresses, awaiting the judges decision. First, though, was a delicious dinner. Minestrone soup, a garden salad, juicy steaks, and fresh pies for dessert. Micky and I both had two pieces each of strawberry-rhubarb pie, while everyone else had apple pie a la mode.

"Now the moment Iím sure youíve all been waiting for," a man announced as coffee was being served. "The winner of the contest." Cheers arose in the room. "First, Iíd like our three finalist bands to stand. The Monkees, The Fifth Dimension, and The Great Society."

We stood, and saw the groups at the tables on either side of us also stand. Everyone else clapped politely for all three bands.

"The third place band, who will take home a thousand dollars and a set of new Gretsch instruments . . . The Fifth Dimension!!!" Roars of approval. "The second place band, who will get two thousand dollars, a new set of instruments, and will remain here to play three nights at the Tiki Tiki Auditorium, The Great Society!!" Even louder roars and some whistles.

"And now, the winners of our contest . . . winners of five thousand dollars, new instruments, and a recording contract with Atlantic Records, THE MONKEES!!!!!!"

The entire room erupted into a loud roar, and everyone stood, clapping, for a ten-minute standing ovation. Isa jumped up and whirled Mike around, kissing him passionately. Micky gave me a huge bear hug, and as soon as heíd let me go, Peter had given me one of his patented Peter hugs. After the crowd quieted down, we did a short command performance of "Mary Mary," "Last Train to Clarksville," "Circle Sky," and "Never Tell a Woman Yes." We went to bed exhausted but floating on cloud nine.

In the morning we got to the airport to find that there was an airline strike and the commercial jets werenít flying. Mike lost his temper and started looking into alternatives. We couldnít afford to wait until the strike was over since we were supposed to play our next gig at the Cassandra on the eighth, the next day. An hour later he returned to the lounge where we were waiting with news that a small private plane was available to take us. We walked out to the runway, luggage in tow, to see a tiny Cessna.

"Oh, no, please -- I donít think I can ride in one of these!" I pleaded. I was bad enough on a commercial jet but a tiny Cessna . . . I knew Iíd have a panic attack for sure.

"You can sit in my lap and Iíll keep your mind off of it!" Micky assured me, putting an arm around my shoulders.

"Besides, we ainít got no choice. We gotta play a gig tomorrow night," Mike drawled.

The pilot helped us tie our luggage down in the rear of the plane and told us to choose whatever seats we wanted. There was a middle aisle and one seat on each side of it. Micky whispered something in the pilotís ear, and when the pilot replied, he brought me to a middle seat and sat down, pulling me into his lap. Peter chose a seat towards the front, near the pilot, while Mike and Isa chose seats next to each other towards the back and Davy sat a row behind Micky and I, on the opposite side of the plane.

"I asked the pilot and he said itís a-okay for you to sit on my lap. I think youíll be more comfortable here anyway," Micky said quietly.


"No problem. It wonít be very long."

We took off a few minutes later. Micky sang all different songs to me throughout the take-off and flight. Everything was going well until about midway through the flight when Peter jumped up and walked over towards the cockpit to look out through the front window.

"Whatís that pink cloud?" I heard him ask.

"I donít know," the pilot said.

"Where are we?"

"Over Martini Atoll."

"Wasnít that where there was nuclear testing last week?" Mike drawled.

"I think so," Peter said, turning to look at Mike, concern written across his face.

All of a sudden we were in the cloud. The entire inside of the plane was bathed in pink light. I wrapped myself tightly around Micky, my arms around his shoulders in a death grip. Then . . . we crashed and I blacked out.

I donít know how long I was out but when I awoke, I got up, half blinded by the bright light in the plane, and stumbled out. We were on a beautiful tropical island, and I saw Mike and Davy standing by a pile of instruments and luggage a few meters away. Isa and Peter joined them moments later with more luggage. I headed over to them.

"Micky? Lenora?" Mike called.

"Iím right here," I said. "Ooo, not so loud, will ya? My head hurts."

"Where?" he gasped.

"Right in front of you! You canít see me?" Then I looked down . . . "I canít see me!" I concentrated . . . and there were gasps from the other four as I shimmered into view.

"Howíd ya do that?" Davy gasped.

"I donít know," I breathed. "I donít know."

"Hey Len! You okay?" I heard Micky call from behind me. I whirled and saw . . . nothing.

He must be invisible too! I thought.

"Micky? Are you invisible to?" Davy asked.

"What? Yikes!" Micky suddenly appeared out of thin air.

"Is this all the luggage?" Isa asked Peter. He nodded. Just then, there was an explosion and the plane became a flaming mess and chunks flew toward us. Micky and I instinctively stood in front of everyone and put up invisible force fields to stop the debris.

"That pink cloud did more than crash the plane," Isa breathed as she saw the debris bouncing off our fields.

"It did. Micky and Lenora can become invisible and project invisible force fields. I wonder what the rest of us can do," Mike drawled.

" ĎEy! Whereís the pilot?" Davy asked suddenly.

"I donít know!" Isa replied.

"And what caused the plane to blow? There was fuel spilled but no fire!" Peter added.

"Letís spread out," Mike said, "Search the island for the pilot. Micky -- you and Lenora see if you canít find out what caused the plane to blow up."

We split up. Mike and Isa walked off in one direction hand in hand. Peter headed opposite them. Davy walked off in the direction of the shore.

"This is really weird, us havin powers and all. What do you think of all this, Len?" Micky asked.

I think Enolaís Power Monkees are reality, is what I think, I thought to myself. "I donít know. This is very weird. And Iím still a little shook up over the crash."

"Whoís Enola?" Micky asked. I gaped at him. "I heard you say something about Enolaís Power Monkees. Whatís that mean?"

"You . . . heard that?" I gasped.

"Yeah, you said it loud and clear!"

No I didnít. I thought it, in my mind. Can you hear this? I thought.

"Yes. You mean . . . I can hear your thoughts?" I nodded. Suddenly I heard his voice, Can you hear my thoughts too?

"I guess itís a two way link," I said.


I laughed and put up a forcefield. "Come on, letís go look inside the plane."

By the time weíd finished looking around inside the plane, the others had returned to our meeting spot, where weíd piled all the luggage. None of them had found the pilot but all had discovered their new powers.

"Howíd it go guys?" Micky asked.

"Found out our powers," Mike said.

"Yeah. I can become a ghost . . . and he can shoot light beams," Isa added.

"I can move stuff with my mind -- Iím telekinetic," Peter said.

"I can become as tall as I want!" Davy cried happily.

"Great but thatís not going to help us get home. We need to send out an SOS of some kind . . . except the radio in the plane is totaled," I said.

Horizontal rule

Next Previous

Horizontal rule

Hosted by Tripod

Created by Lenora McCoy

Last updated 13 OCT 98

[Home] [Guest Book] [Back to Lenora's Fiction Archive] [Take my Survey] [What's New]
[Science Fiction] [Story Archive] [Scotland]
[The 60s] [Figure Skating] [Concert & Convention Diary] [Beadwork]
[Links] [Reviews] [Webring] [Search Engines]