Time... His Script is You and Me (A David Bowie Fanfic)

They Call Them The Diamond Dogs

Hello everyone! Here is the awaited next chapter !!

Love ya all - Some Teenage Wildlife

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I woke up in Melanie's room. Back in 2017.

Assumedly, she had seen me vanish into thin air - if I can remember the events of my disappearance correctly. God, it seems like such a long time ago. Honestly, I missed having these small turbulences as opposed to the world of struggle, drug abuse, and pain I had experienced in 1976.

But for now I needed to try and move on from the weirdest, most insane 8 months of my life. I was back home, and must deal with the problem in front of me. And that was Melanie; having read my journal, shouted at me, and seen me time travel.

Getting a good look at the surroundings, I realised I was on Melanie's bed - she must have carried me here or something, because she was in the corner of the room on her phone. Evidently, the poor girl was shellshocked and just waiting for me to come to. She noticed me stirring and looked up, promptly dropping her phone and walking up to the bed hesitantly.

There was a lot to fill her in on.

"Uh, hey Melanie." Was all I managed to get out. It was one of those times were there was so much to talk about that I simply couldn't deal with what to say all at one time.

"Hi, Florence... But, let's cut the formalities: what the fuck was that." Melanie replied, obviously confused with my random greeting in the grips of an existential crisis.

There was no use denying it at this point. I needed to tell her everything.

But all that came out was, "haha, do you believe me now? Would you believe that in the instantaneous moment I disappeared and reappeared, vanished for a split second, I had been trapped in Los Angeles, 1976. Would you believe I lived alone for months on end, aimlessly trying to help an alcoholic, drug addicted David Bowie on the verge of death? Because that seems a little creepy to me."

Shit. Sorta ruined the kind 'welcome back let me explain things' I had been planning.

"Okay, Jesus. I believe you now. If what you say is true, and whatever you wrote, I can understand your annoyance. But boy, you have a lot more explaining to do," Melanie spoke, with an obvious business-like facade over her shock.

"Well, it's a long story. And please trust me, because I kind of understand why you might think I'm bonkers. Firstly, all the stuff I wrote in that journal is true. Ever since David Bowie's death January last year, that day I ran out of class, I've been time travelling to him whenever he needs me most. The first time, I went to 1969 and met him before he was famous, at one of his festivals. After a little while, he started time travelling to me in the modern era, whenever I needed him most. It's like a give and take thing, somehow - and I have no clue how or why - but we are cosmically interconnected.

"What's stranger, is that I've only recently discovered that this doesn't happen always in a linear fashion. Generally, when I time travelled to David it would be linear so every time I went back he would be older, and him the same for me. But in my last trip to 1976, at one point 90s David Bowie was there and helped me get out of a... situation, meaning there were two David Bowies at the same point in time. I'm guessing it's because I needed him, but 1976 David from that timeline was otherwise incapacitated. 90s David explained to me that the time travel doesn't have to be linear, so we could essentially time travel to each other at any point in each others lives, though it did generally keep in a linear fashion."

After that whole speech, I could see Melanie's eyes were wide open. It was a lot to take in. Honestly, just talking about it out loud with someone, working out all the ins and outs of my time travelling powers actually gave me some sense of security. It all sort of fell into place.

I continued telling her about all my escapades, how David was, and all the fun and tragedy we had endured. It was getting late, so we decided to go to the pub for dinner and continue our conversation there. It had been a long, hard day and I certainly needed a good english shepherd's pie after 8 months in LA.

***

It was over a well-deserved meal that I realised the significance of me helping David out of the gutter (literally and metaphorically). I was telling Melanie how I had slogged hard hours for little pay at the diner, and saved David from almost certain death when Melanie piped in: "Wait, didn't you tell me a little while ago about David Bowie's famous sewer incident? I remember because it was a few years ago and I was laughing as you pined over posters of him."

"Sounds like me," I giggled as I swallowed another delicious mouthful.

Wait.

The Bowie knowledge came rushing back - on an interview at some point in his later life, I distinctly remember David had said it was a fateful day in 1976 that caused him to reconsider his addictions in LA. Caused him to move. That he woke up one day in the gutter, didn't remember how he got there, and just knew he had to get out. Though he obviously left out details about myself for my own safety and privacy, it made me somewhat relieved (and even proud) that I had helped him leave such a hard place in his life.

I remembered his promise to me, "I'll get better... for you." His croaky words ran through my mind and I almost started to tear up as Melanie looked at me, concerned.

"Did I say something wrong?" She asked.

"No, no. It's just been a rough few months."

But before we could discuss further, someone from the front of the pub tapped on a microphone, "testing, testing. Welcome folks of Pierrot Pub, and for those who have been here before know that Saturday is rock trivia night! Get your rockstar pants on, because the prize for tonight is this lovely, rare, 100% expensive keychain."

There was obvious sarcasm in his voice, and everyone giggled as he pulled out the most terribly made, cheap lightning bolt keychain. Everyone clapped while he explained how he'd ask the questions and anyone who knew the answer could just yell it out.

Now, I wasn't really in the mood for trivia, so we mostly tuned everybody else out while Melanie and I had a few drinks and finished our meals.

However, at the mention of David Bowie my ears immediately pricked up. The guy at the front of the pub running the trivia (by this point looking relatively bored from the lack of interest), apathetically read out the last question of the night: "Now, this is a hard one, so anyone who can answer this David Bowie question gets the almighty keychain!" He cleared his throat, "Ahem, now, can anyone tell me what year David Bowie's Diamond Dogs album was released?"

There was silence in the room. Not a thinking silence, but one of boredom from the general crowd. Meanwhile, I was determined to get this right and was about to answer when someone from the back of the room shouted, "1975!"

Shit, was I wrong?

The trivia man at the front looked to his answer sheet and shook his head disapprovingly. He obviously just wanted someone to get it right so he could be done with the trivia.

Now, me being the knowledgable person I was, looked to whoever up the back shouted the wrong answer and stated with a smug smile, "1974, I believe. And that was the record with hit single Rebel Rebel. Did you know he played most of the instruments on that record by himself?"

The man up the front just rolled his eyes, said, "No I didn't know that... But good job! Uh, I guess you can collect your keychain after a healthy round of applause." He paused for this 'healthy round of applause', but the room was again silent. Except for one person, up the back. It was the same man who had guessed it wrong - there was just a slow clap followed by a low, amused laugh.

Behind me, now that I was actually looking for him, I realised this clapping man wasn't just anybody. He was tall, but not as slim as I remembered him, and his hair was short and a natural brown-blonde colour. He wore long thick socks, no makeup, and a clean-shaven face that meant his natural sharp cheekbones were on full display.

It was David Bowie. The next era, but still, my David Bowie.