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

Memory Of A Free Festival

Hey Guys!

I just wanted to say thanks to everybody who read the first chapter... Please continue to do so with the rest of the story!

Also, any shares, votes and comments would be much appreciated as this is my first fanfic and so it is very nice and welcomed!!!

Anyways, hope you like it ;)

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There was no more denying it: I had fallen unconscious in a park, and David Bowie had woken me up.

We were the only ones there, sitting on the grass next to the white bandstand. David's curly permed golden locks framed his face and his beautiful mismatched eyes looked in mine.

"Are you okay? I found you lying here a few minutes ago..." He asked me.

Oh that accent! That voice!

Surely, this couldn't be real. My concussed brain has probably conjured up an image of the man I had been thinking about all day. I began to stand up, but my head started to spin a bit - so I just sat back down, with my hands on the dewy grass behind me.

David stared at me, and a slight smirk appeared on his lips. I realised I never answered his question.

Though I was somewhat slightly dazed, I replied, "I'm... fine... but... what is going on?"

"I've come down here to set up for a festival I'm about to hold. What's your name?" David inquired.

I answered, "My name is Florence. Florence Haywood."

At this he turned his head away for a moment, looking into the distance. My name had somehow left him deep in thought. He seemed troubled by it, but turned back to me with a small smile, trying to shake off whatever had dipped his spirits.

I wanted to investigate, but knew that asking an imaginary David Bowie I've never met "what's wrong?" would be a bit weird and invasive.

Instead, I asked him another question, one that had been burning in my mind since I had woken up; "What year is it?"

Admittedly, a small part of me was giddy that I got to say that. It was like I was in a sci-fi movie! But I had to keep calm...

"It's August 16, 1969." He answered, interrupting my thoughts.

Oh. God.

It was 1969! 1969, the year I was learning about in class. The year of the moon landing! The year of Space Oddity!

I took a breath. I was simply stunned, and David could tell. He joked with his signature blend of British humour, "Well, what else did you expect?" He added a cute wink and chuckle, but I was still shocked. I had no idea what to do.

Only then I noticed my arm was stinging. I turned it over to see my elbow, where it was scraped and bloody. Obviously I had cut it in the fall. Not that bad, but now I was fully conscious, it was starting to hurt.

David saw, and without a word pulled a handkerchief from his pocket. He used it to dab at the graze until the blood had come off and then tied the handkerchief around my elbow. As soon as he had touched my arm to do so, a tingling went through my body, not so different from the one I had felt before I fell unconscious. The feeling was so gentle, so human, so real.

Something inside me, from that feeling, told me this was no delusional fantasy. I don't know how, or why, but at that moment, I faced the facts:

This was real.

I was with David Bowie, in a random London park, in 1969. And he was holding a festival - evidently his famous 'free festival'.

I decided to get up. By now, a few other people were arriving, musicians and others bringing seats and portable amps.