September 30th, 1955

397 11 2

  It wasn't just a daydream. It was more than that. What wouldn't I give to see in person, that alluring smirk, so powerful yet so innocent, or that charismatic spirit which attracts all people to envelop into it. To hear, right in front of me, that voice that was so perfect and undeniable. To look into those luminous eyes, bright yet mysterious, and fall deep into their blue abyss. It wasn't enough to view it on the movie screen. They say you have to see it to believe it. The passion and talent that radiated through him was like no other.  In such a short amount of time he had taken the nation by storm with his elusive prowess and persona. He would be a legend, I knew that, but I didn't know his legend would be fueled even more by his death.  His death.
I came home on September 30th, 1955 to hear news that would shatter my world into pieces. My hero, my idol, my dream was gone. Never to see his blue eyes shine again. Never to hear his  enchanting voice echo through the room. Never would I witness his mouth form up into that peerless grin.
Never.
My dream was dead.

James Dean DaydreamsWhere stories live. Discover now