We are born, we live out our lives, we die, and are soon forgotten. But some men never really die, having found the secret to immortality. Some men are legends.
He was born in a small town, to a mother who loved him too much and a father who loved him too little, youngest of ten, the child they never planned to have. There was nothing remarkable about his childhood, nothing to indicate that he was anything more than an average boy in an average town, where people lived and died having never traveled more than a day's drive from where they were born. Like all teenagers, he went through a rebellious phase, wanting something different from the life he could see being planned out for him, but he didn't know what it was he was looking for.
And then one day he found it, though he never could decide whether it was fate or chance that led him to that shop on that day, to the old red guitar in the corner and the girl behind the counter who smiled at him. The guitar sang in his hands, the girl's smile stole his heart, and his life was never the same …show more content…
And slowly, ever so slowly, they pushed out everyone and everything else in his life, until the world was only him and his guitar and his songs. Somewhere in there, he lost the girl, and he didn't even realize until it was too late that she was gone.
The muses and the music pushed him hard then, with nothing else to temper his drive or tie him to the real world, and his fame grew. Soon, a word of praise from him was enough to pluck an unknown musician from obscurity, and they came from everywhere, begging him for an audience. He had the magic touch, it seemed, not just for himself but for others, an ear that could hear what no one else heard, a sense for the potential for greatness.
The higher he climbed, though, the more he began to miss what he'd left behind, and long for the simpler days when it was just him, his guitar, and the girl he loved. But she was lost to him, and all the fame and money and girls could not replace her, no matter how hard he tried. The muses in his dreams continued to whisper of fame and glory, of immortality, but all he wanted now was