rock n roll imagines 🎸

jim morrison - la woman

i was thrust into the world of stardom. the newspapers and magazines wrote things that tore me down. it hurt. it hurt really bad. in the midst of the end of my teenage years was when fame erupted into my life. the last days of adolescence were turned into red carpets and music awards.

in the midst of this, i was going through my first real heartbreak; you know the one. the first boy you really feel in deep for, who, when all is said and done, never truly looked at you the same way you looked at him.

it was too much for a girl who's mind was forced to grow up too fast.

and then, i met him.

just as i was rising to fame, so was the mystical and poetic band the doors. i admired and adored their dark lyrics, mixed with jim's enchanting voice and the music.

jim.

one syllable. it flows easily on the tongue.

morrison.

three syllables. i think its irish.

i met him for the first time on a hot summer night. i aimlessly walked down the venice streets, the parties slowly beginning to stop and the clubs beginning to close. thats how i spent my night, club to club, party to party, injecting, inhaling and losing myself as much as i could. eighteen years old now, and with no sense of direction, structure or stability. my parents would be so disappointed.

i wandered down the streets with kim, my childhood friend and my partner in crime. we wrote song lyrics and performed together. our little mini group was called femme fatale. and that name was the perfect way to describe how the record label fabricated our lives. we were deemed whores by the media, and an easy target for anyone who thought they were entitled to a night with one of us.

i gripped tightly to my beige corduroy clutch, which was littered with the remnants of whatever drug we had consumed earlier. my white boots and her red heels were in our hands as we slowly walked. the moon was full that night. it was deathly silent, except for the sound that signified our next pit-stop.

a condo up ahead in the distance with colorful lights that beamed down on the sidewalk and loud music playing.

"hello, i love you, wont you tell me your name. hello, i love you, let me jump in your game."

i made eye contact with kim and she smirked. she told me it was the home of some big music producer, who hosted parties often, and when he did, only the most exclusive celebrities were invited in. our egos; inflated over the years, knew that we would be let in without question. so we put back on our shoes, touches up our makeup in the moonlight and strutted our way to the front door.

i batted my cartoon eyes to the man at the door. smirking, he opened it and kim and i, with cloudy minds and a thirst for some, or any kind of substance, entered. clouds of smoke and the smell of weed hit my nose as i entered. kim split off in a separate direction and being a natural wallflower, i had to tune out all those around me. a scared little nineteen year old girl, who, in the eyes of the public, belonged here, but, deep in her fragile heart, really didn't,

i swayed to the song, trying to pretend i was alone, back at home where it wasn't so hot, i was sober and i was happy. my long brown hair swished side to side as i closed my eyes, arching my neck to face the ceiling, illuminated by rainbow lights. i felt a pair of eyes on me, and tilting my head to the side, slowly opening my droopy lids. i turned to see a face that i knew; one that didn't know me. i saw the figure slowly make his way over, and as we made eye contact, i shyly looked toward the ground. out of character.

"y/n l/n, right?"

"i... yes." i softly spoke, trying to contain how mesmerized i was by his beauty and his enchanting voice.

"i'll admit... i'm a fan." he spoke, his deep voice rung in my mind for a long second before a grin spread on my face.

"thank you so much, i adore your work as well, 'morning found us calmly aware, noon burnt gold into our hair' it's genius." he smiled and looked at the floor. i took it he was shy when it came to compliments. "your voice even sounds like poetry on its own if that makes sense. sorry if i'm fangirling a bit here." he laughed.

"no, no, it's cool. you're quite the budding poet yourself from what i've heard."

"oh no, nothing like you. i wish. mostly just mundane musings that i have written in throwaway journals. nothing special."

"i'd have to disagree, some of my favorite songs right now are by femme fatale." this made me break out into a large toothy grin. "i'd love to pick your brain about your writing. maybe we could hang out at my studio, have ourselves a little writing session?"

"i'd... be honored!" i giddily replied. "do... do you have a pen?" i asked, to which he smiled and took a ballpoint out of his pocket.

"always."

i scrawled down the series of numbers that made up my home phone.

"thats my phone number, you can reach me there."

"i'll be in touch, doll."

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A/N pt. 2?