Author's Note
Thanks for the music, Kurt. You're a bigger inspiration and influence than you might realise, even in death. Thanks for inspiring me to get off my arse and to pick up a guitar and learn to play it with passion. Love ya, man.
Happy late birthday. (20th February 1967)
Peace, Love, Empathy
Warmth was something to feel with grace, a sensation that brought with it an emotion of happiness. It was something that every living being has experienced at least once. It was a feeling that held no boundaries and knew of no negativity. It brought a smile, a thump of the heart, a laugh.
On grass, a hand brushed against the green and felt its softness caress his smooth skin. Smooth and silky. A flutter of the eyes brought the being back to life and his large, blue orbs reopened to view the cloudless skies above, accompanied by a tweet from a nearby bird as it settled down in a nest built onto the branch of a tree.
A stretch, a yawn, a relaxed sigh, one such feeling which has been longing to be felt again. Long since has stress left his bones and bodily fibres, replaced by a sense of calm. Tranquility, a wish which has been granted. He sat up, took in his surroundings, brushed back his golden locks of long hair behind his ear and gave a smile with his pale lips. The sun smiled back at him, happy to see him again.
He had needed to sleep for a while. Although the sun was still up and shining with him, he was still having fun and enjoying the bliss of the moment. On his mind, he would think of how the rain beat down on the greenhouse, how he knew that he was a doomed soul from the start. His baby daughter, Frances Bean, and wife, Courtney Love, were separated from him by the fame, the music he created from the strings of his guitar, songs and riffs that carried with it a voice that spoke to a generation, that made him heard and recognised. Perhaps it wasn't meant for him. Maybe he wasn't supposed to earn the title.
Sadness was a part of him, but he wasn't a sad person living a miserable existence. He was happy as can be, always smiling with pearl white teeth and showing a caring nature that offered open arms to those that needed them the most. More than a simple father, a voice of a generation and a loving husband, he was also a lover of life, a shoulder to lean on. He was dependable and loved in return.
His cardigan, green and tattered in places, was placed over his favourite shirt, depicting of a strange and pencil-drawn alien creature with the words ''Hi, how are you?'' written below it. Protecting and covering his legs were a pair of well-aged blue denim jeans, their knees hand-stitched with green fabric on one leg and an off-purple on the other. Although ragged, he didn't mind. He liked it. High standards and high-class never really were his cup of tea or his calling. He didn't quite care for it.
He gave his beard a short scratch, feeling it scratch his skin like sandpaper. Still the same as it always was. Looking down from the hill he was sat on top of, he cast his eyes down to view what appeared to be a small town, roughly a stone's throw from his position. He couldn't see much, but he liked the idea of a peaceful community, much like the one he used to have. However, those times were never a part of his life after he found out about the divorce of his parents. A small part of him died that day, one part that gave him an edge with his music, the cause of his many broken guitars and split strings.
He took a breath in, feeling the warm summer air inflate his lungs with the scent of flowers and pollen. It was peaceful and full of the happiness that he sought to regain. It was a different type of happiness that was unlike what he felt when he walked up on the stage to perform to his adoring fans. It was his missing piece, something that made him feel whole again. It gave him the means to feel accepted and to start all over again. He could be free.
On the inside, he felt warm and calm. Quiet, relaxed, un-stirred and at rest. It felt strange to be experiencing these emotions again, yet he welcomed them much like he had welcomed many other feelings. Love, passion, anger, hate. He has experienced them all to their fullest extents and lived to weep and sulk with what sorrows they could bring into one's life.
A voice behind him, soft and mellow, beautifully received to his ears and catching his attention, caused him to turn his head to face the source. He came to view her, a soft-looking yellow creature with a pink mane and tail that looked over to him with warm and gentle eyes of caring turquoise. He couldn't help but notice the butterflies on her backside, and the little bunny sitting atop her head, also staring at him with beady and adorable black eyes. Twitching his nose, he hopped over into his lap.
This little rabbit welcomed the gingerly-placed hand of the man to his small, white-furred head as he gave him a stroke, feeling how soft he was. The man couldn't help but smile at the adorable creature before him. The yellow creature voiced her approving thoughts with a giggle, coming over to sit beside the man, not afraid of his presence. Even for her, she found no reason to be frightened of another creature, no matter how big, small or unique they might be.
''That's Angel Bunny,'' She said, motioning to the small rabbit who displayed affection akin to a puppy asking for cuddles. ''I'm Fluttershy. It's nice to meet you,'' Her voice was gorgeous and as smooth as velvet. ''What's yours?'' She asked, gazing into the eyes of the man. He only smiled at Fluttershy and he eventually spoke.
''It's nice to meet you, Fluttershy,'' He said, giving Angel Bunny a small pat on the head. ''I'm Kurt Cobain.''
