• Introduction •
"Tomorrow belongs to those who can hear it coming." - David Bowie
⚲ Santa Carla, 1987
Put your fingers here…
On a dimly lit bus making its way into town sat a boy.
The bus was mostly empty, the place it was going far from touristy due to its own reputation…Not such a bad thing to the boy-more room for him to spread out with the guitar he was learning to play…He considered himself an aspiring musician, only “aspiring” because well-you had to be able to play to be a musician which he couldn’t…Not yet, at least…
And here…
The sun had already begun to set, bathing the bus in its own foreboding ambiance, like the few people on it were journeying into a belly of a beast they didn’t understand yet but soon would in time…The boy hadn’t slept much since he arrived on the bus, eyes tired-but he’d manage with the little sleep he got. It was rare he got a good night of rest more often than not now…When you’re living out of a dingy guitar case you can only complain so much about it, right?
Now strum.
More than anything, the boy was lost. Gently tucking a loose freshly dyed tuft of blonde hair out of his face as he started playing a song on the bus, humming a tune only he knew but was working on-trying to develop the…callouses on his fingers required to play better than he did now.
A part of the boy had always been on the run, nothing new in that department. But, now? It had been made official.
He was on the run from someone.
From something he did and couldn’t so easily take back now that it was done and sealed.
Now he was forever haunted.
Isn’t this what he wanted?
But! He was trying to make the most of it…Being free as a bird to migrate somewhere else for the cold winter to find better food and shelter…Wherever he wanted to go he could. The world was his oyster to explore-he could be anyone when all he wanted was to disappear and forget. Find something stimulating to his curious and easily bored mind…
He walked the world all alone, looking for attention from anyone who cared enough to give it to him-Feeling more cynical and scared than he liked to admit. He had nobody to call for, nobody to fall for-just him and his dreams against the world it looked to be.
A lady called out, causing his head to perk up a little-The woman had begun cursing him out for playing inside the bus without warning. Shameful as it was, he flinched…recoiling into himself a little with his shoulders tensed up before working up just enough nerve to flip her off, trying to feign inner confidence and ease he didn’t have entirely down-Careful in it to not draw too much unneeded attention and get caught-If he wasn’t so lucky he’d get kicked off the bus…
Didn’t stop him from removing the guitar and looking out the window instead.
Outside they’d just past the town’s sign-
“The Murder Capital of the World”
“Ah, how classy of an introduction from the locals.” He rolled his eyes. Every touristy town around’s gotta have a gimmick-even if it’s one as dumb as this one-
Whatever you say, sign…Catch ya on the flip side. Pleasure to have known you.
Shut up, David-
David.
The boy lost’s new name was “David”.
His real name was not important-No point in dwelling on it too much if not needed. A last name and a natural hair conveyed a story not worth telling in his eyes. A new start somewhere else brought an opportunity and “David” suited him well enough-like Bowie.
He was gonna be the next Bowie if the world didn’t suck him dry or kill him first, trust him. He really was-
When the bus came to it’s final stop he got out and was left with a hunger in his mouth to fill…A dream to play the music he loved forever until the earth came to rot, to find a home worth staying in and living for-no judgements at all to be found…But, most of all he wanted a family who’d hold him the way he saw others do in the movies he liked to watch-Something that made him feel less alone.
All he wanted to do was belong to someone else besides himself.
(ADMIN + RP/LORE INFO)
