Life, with all its complications does provide respite to everyone, some in the form of happiness, some in the form of solitude, and to some in the form of eternal solitude.
David Bowie stood in the corner of a busy metro station, sipping a hot cup of coffee. It had not been a great week for him, but he still stood there, like he always did, dreaming about things that had never existed. Sometimes he used to ponder about the futility of dreams, of aspirations, about the dumb shallowness of self-unaware hope causes.
Dreams, and beauty, aren’t they over-rated? he thought to himself…
But before David had become this cynical, coffee sipping bastard, he was a man of hope. He believed in things, in dreams, that one day when he would look back on his life, all of it, everything that he had ever done would fall into place in a perfectly symmetrical pattern, making complete sense, and thereby completing the last few pieces of the Jigsaw, of his life.
But, obviously, all that was a long time ago. Now, David is sipping coffee in the corner of a metro station and almost no one notices him. A weak smile escapes his face as he remembers the time that had long gone by.
As a youngster, David had a passion for music in general, and playing the guitar in specific. There was no doubt about his talent, but his innate desire for fame and success was what propelled him to unmatchable heights, in a short time. He was a success. Not in short, or in small measures, but in full and complete means.
Right now, fate was mocking David, the same joke he had heard a million times. His past was like pieces of a broken mirror, as he pieced it together, he could cut himself, he could bleed, or the best he could become free forever. David walked ahead towards the platform, where a train was arriving with its full speed.
How great would it be, to sleep and never wake up again? Or even better to wake up, having never gone to sleep in the first place… Oh wait, was there any difference?
The train arrived with its practiced bravado, bringing with itself a loud and depressing noise of reality, and heavy doses of nostalgia.
It was three years ago. David Bowie, or DB, as his fans called him, was walking in with his fiancée, Lisa Fernandez. Rumour, was that Lisa was three months pregnant, during the time the accident occurred. It was also said, that this incident was the reason, Bowie stopped singing, and became a recluse, eventually fading his memory from the fragile heads of his fans. But rumour, is a great liar, or is it really?
Lisa was beautiful, just like all of Bowie’s songs, she touched the strings of his heart the first time they met. She was the best thing that happened to him, like a great symphony to an exceptional piece of poetry. She completed Bowie’s unending quest for worldwide success and fame. She became his world now.
It was 18th of April, David and Lisa had come to the metro station, mainly due to the latter’s indulgence on living a simple life. Maybe, it was fate, maybe the writing was on the wall, or maybe it was coincidence. Lisa wanted a cup of coffee and David rushed by to the nearest shop to buy her one. Then it happened, people surrounded him like honeybees swarm a pretty flower, except that David was no flower. There was mad shrieking of fans all around, it was complete chaos. He pulled out his pen to sign their autographs, after all it were his fans that made him, the guy he was. There was total madness in all directions, but all of a sudden he heard a familiar shriek…the coffee in his left hand started falling down in slow motion, as he rushed to the site.
It was nothing as he had ever seen before, Lisa was un-recognisable. She had fallen under the wheels of the train. David went up to her, or whatever there was left of her. He wanted to hold her hands, he wanted to cry, he wanted to rewind a few minutes and stop all this from ever happening…
Presently, David stood at the same spot, three years later albeit. There were theories of course, that she was under the influence of drugs, that it was her pregnancy, that it was a fan amidst the chaos who pushed her under the train. But David, really didn’t care for any of them.
The way I see it, David said in one of his songs,
it wasn’t success until you fail and move on,
it wasn’t life until you meet death with open arms, and
it wasn’t love until she had gone.
The years that followed this incident, he realized that it wasn’t fame and money he was after, he had been wrong all his life. All he had ever searched for was success, and now that he had it, he despised it.
All he will ever search for now will be Lisa’s remnants, signs of her blissful existence scattered throughout the fabric of his life, framing every sweet memory into a cherished frame, fragments of her memories diligently written down in a notebook, living the life he was supposed to, within his dreams. That was his destiny, that was his curse.
Presently, David visits her grave. He kneels down, and he doesn’t notice it, but maybe a tear or two escape his eyes, he gently keeps a rose onto her memorial.
Lisa Fernandez. A cherished friend, a loving wife, a happy memory. 22 January 1978- 18th April 2014
Lisa, you became someone else, I am still right here…he whispers to himself.
As a heavy wind blows, he cluches his coat closer to his body. Another cemetery comes into his view, its covered with dust upon its broken thorns. Beneath the spring of time , the feeling had disappeared. He walks up to it, with a heavy breath…
David Bowie. Beloved Son, Blessed musician, a Loving Husband. 26 December 1978- 14th April 2015
Einstein was right, time was relative, as he viewed down his own grave, a hand touched him on his shoulder…he turned to a lady dressed in white. She was smiling, and was taking small steps towards him.
“Who are you?”
“Me?, I’m Ms.Death, I have finally found you David, where had you been hiding all this time?”
“Lisa…i..i was looking for her…”
“David, I need you to understand this, Lisa and you both looked into the darkness, together. She stared through it, but, David, you blinked…”