Kerb Side (Open)
Jul 12, 2018 20:04:46 GMT
Post by Deleted on Jul 12, 2018 20:04:46 GMT
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Owen could barely sleep, one night in the many nights that sleep was a distant dream. His mind was awake and alert and despite the lovely surroundings of a motel that he was sure had cockroaches in the walls, Owen found himself making a place to call his own in the park. It was early morning or late night, the stars were out as he dumped the back pack from his shoulder. He had taken a look around not seeing anyone there as he picked a spot down by one of the streams that ran through the park.
He kept to himself and none more so than on the nights he felt like he was losing his mind. He had his guitar with him and his bag held the bulk of his possessions. After leaving the UK for Chicago, Owen left most of his things with his parents. Refusing their offer of help, a place to stay no he did things his way. There was no easy route, he looked after himself and even when that was more than he could handle. Owen never asked for help, it was the reason he was in Chicago. Too scared to turn up at his brothers door.
Too worried not to, all in all Owen was the mess he had always fought to beat. Dressed in his crinkled tshirt, jacket and jeans Owen would have easily blended in with the homeless population of Chicago. Not homeless himself but getting reasonably close to it with each passing day of rent due on the room he had. Owen did what he knew how to do; he played his guitar for money on the street. Busking for those dollars to keep a roof over his head, tonight it was simply about trying to relax. Trying to forget the horrors he had seen in a space that was his own.
The park free to all to do what they liked, he just preferred the solitude of it all. Yes he could be friendly but his head was all over the place, one minute he was sat on the banking of the stream guitar in hand. The next he was staring out over sand and heat, watching a market place go about its business before taking out that target. Hiking in the mountains, the preferred past time for him though while he only had gone good foot and one metal one, he struggled with more than just a shuffle. Lean on no one and do it all himself, so far it was keeping him alive though sane that was debatable. The sounds of the notes spilling from the guitar like a soothing blanket as he tried to drown out the bad and remember the good as he sat there, still apart from his fingers moving on the strings to play the one thing he knew.
