Your support makes Blue Moon possible (Patreon)
- Joined
- Mar 27, 2018
HOLLYWOOD
written by,
Crozzed & Hallucinate
I.
Summer of
'59
It was the summer of '59. Hollywood, California didn't just become another known vacation spot. It became a dream, an idea, a mindset that was growing bigger than the once-great American dream...
From far and wide, people flocked in hopes of becoming a starlet or the next superstar. Young attractive men and women swarmed the streets and the beaches. Many looked to entertain crowds while dancing, singing, acting, and playing instruments in hopes to catch the eye of talent scouts.
Love nest now pollinated the land, raising near-endless rows of rabbit hutches wrapped around white picket fences as the population skyrocketed. Pastel and candy-colored coups cruising by blasting the rebellious music of Rock and Roll. The lights and signs of the carhops watching the sun settle upon an endless ocean could be packaged like a candle carrying notes of funnel cakes, hotdogs, and sunscreen.
These are the things that made Wes Wilder, an ambitious photographer and storyteller slip a sinister grin as his almond eyes gazed at the tarnished and torn returned postcard he tacked to the kitchen's refrigerator. It was hung like a cheap trophy serving him a reminder of his selfishness and chapters in love closed.
He didn't regret not returning to the wild mountains of West Virginia. He had heard Cali calling him like a mistress, always encouraging him to be something more than a half paid skills man.
People didn't care to see photos of backwoods Virginia nor read any books. They wanted to see starlets on stage and Wes was talented at capturing an image worth a thousand words and transforming it into a story all in itself. He could go big or become another coal canary.
Wes was glad his high school love stubbornly stayed in the shadows of the backwood forest canopies and did not come along. Anchored down by her family and unforgiving that there was simply nothing left for him. He was orphaned at a young age and once he could get away, he would, with or without his heart.
He took a sip of the whiskey he had just poured for two. He clenched his eyes and pinched his lips to gulp down the fire of smooth spirit. With another hand, his finger trailed along the handwriting going across the beautiful Beverly Hills and LA skyline of the postcard reading: FUCK YOU <3.
"I miss you, too, Annabelle." he gently snickered before refilling his glass. He corked the wooden cap as he gazed out into the large sliding glass window of his elegant home. He could almost see Annabelle threading in the warm waters of his pool outside. Still as young and naive as the day he left her thirteen years ago today, on her eighteenth birthday. But she didn't go by the name Annabelle, anymore, nor did she hail from the backwoods of West Virginia. Her breasts were slightly bigger, at least appearing so than his high school love. Her nose slightly smaller and her lips plumper. It was as if he painted over the flaws of his past love, from Annabelle of West Virginia to Kim from…
He didn't know much about the young woman swimming around his pool waiting for his return. He wasn't even sure she could legally drink the whiskey and coke he was about to bestow upon her as he started towards the open door with two drinks snuggled close in the palm of one hand and a can of coca~cola in the other. He took a seat by one of the lawn chairs that kept him dry by the pool. He sat the can down between them. It was ice cold and the hot sun caused the cans condensation to freeze first before rapidly starting to melt away.
"So," He braved a fake bashful smile, reaching out to offer his pool hopping guest the whiskey. He gazed over her glossed wet skin. His bashful smile turned sour and sinister as he admired her young body. At thirty-one, the now aspiring director looked ten years younger than he was. He had the look, that rebel without a cause, to only compliment his maturity and mystery with his young are reckless face.
"What do you think?" He fished for her to compliment the success that radiated around his small little modern home engulfed in a fence of green ferns, shrubs, and decorated with his wife's hand-picked pink Godetias that trawling the borders of his lush freshly cut lawn. It was a private, remote feeling, and far better than spending the day packed in a public pool.