Back to 1960s to be a Rocker

Chapter 1 The day of the guitar spoke

London, January 1964.

Lucy stared at her reflection in a smudged storefront window. Her modern jeans and band t-shirt looked out of place next to the old, boxy cars on the street and the stiff, polished suits passing by. She pinched herself for the tenth time that day. Still real. Still here.

She wasn't supposed to be here. Heck, no one in their right mind would ever want to time-travel back to the 60s...right? Well, maybe a history buff. Or a rock historian. But a 24-year-old fangirl with no plan? Absolutely not.

Yet, here she was. London, 1964. It was a scene she had only ever dreamed about. The birthplace of rock legends, where The Beatles were just starting to conquer the world, and Jimi Hendrix would soon burn guitars on stage like it was no big deal. But that was someone else's dream. Not hers.

She let out a breath, her fingers grazing the strap of the electric guitar slung over her shoulder. The thing had been stuck to her like glue since she woke up in this crazy, black-and-white movie of a world. What was even weirder? It had been talking to her.

"Oi! You listening, or do I need to crank up the volume?"

Lucy yelped and nearly jumped out of her skin, causing a couple of sharply dressed passersby to give her curious looks. She tightened her grip on the guitar, pressing her lips together. Yup. Still talking.

"Oh, don't give me that look," the guitar's voice chimed in, smooth and sarcastic. "You'll want to pay attention if you ever plan on getting out of here."

"Getting out?" she whispered under her breath, trying to keep her cool. "What do you mean 'getting out'? How do I even—"

"You gotta rock, babe," the guitar interrupted, its tone all business now. "Like, seriously rock. You've got one job: start a band, take over the world, be the top rocker before the year 2000. Then, and only then, you can go back to your cozy little life in 2024."

Lucy blinked, letting the words sink in. "You're... joking. Right?"

The guitar remained silent, but somehow, its presence grew heavier on her shoulder. This couldn't be real. She was not having a conversation with a guitar about becoming a world-famous rocker. And yet...

"What happens if I don't?" she asked, her voice barely audible over the street noise.

"You stay here. Forever."

Her stomach dropped.

Lucy looked around, taking in the cobblestone streets, the people who looked like they belonged in a history book, the whole black-and-white vibe of the 60s. It was exciting, sure. But forever? There was no WiFi. No social media. No binge-watching her favorite shows. Just... vinyl records and newspapers. She wasn't sure she could handle that.

"Fine. But how am I supposed to form a band in the 60s? I don't even know anyone!" Lucy threw her hands up in frustration.

"Oh, you'll figure it out," the guitar responded nonchalantly. "You've got the music in you, kid. Plus, you're in the birthplace of rock 'n' roll. The band's out there. Waiting for you. And trust me, once you get started, they'll come flocking."

Lucy sighed and started walking, her boots clicking on the pavement. The guitar had a point. London in the 60s was the epicenter of the music scene. The Rolling Stones, The Who, The Kinks—they were all out here somewhere, just waiting to explode. If she had any chance of surviving in this weird time-travel rock quest, she was in the right place.

But still... Top of the charts? Before 2000? That was a tall order. Sure, she'd played in a few garage bands back home, but they never went anywhere beyond the local dive bars. And now she was supposed to lead a revolution of sound that would top the likes of The Beatles? Insanity.

She stopped outside a dingy record shop, the neon sign flickering overhead. The smell of old vinyl and cigarette smoke seeped into the street. Maybe this was where it would all begin. She had no idea where to start, but a record store seemed as good a place as any.

As she pushed open the door, the bell jingled overhead. The shop was cramped, filled wall to wall with records—actual records—and posters of bands she recognized but had only ever seen in history books. The Beatles, still young and fresh-faced, grinned down at her from the wall. She couldn't help but laugh. They were going to get so much bigger than they even knew.

"You look lost."

Lucy jumped, spinning around to see a scruffy-looking guy with shaggy hair standing behind the counter, a cigarette hanging from his lips. He raised an eyebrow, eyeing her guitar. "You play?"

"Uh, yeah. A little," she mumbled, suddenly self-conscious.

He smirked, taking a drag of his cigarette. "Good. Bands are forming every day around here. A few of 'em might even get famous. Stick around long enough, you might end up in one."

"Yeah, that's kind of the plan," she muttered, more to herself than to him. If only he knew the full story.

The guy blew out a cloud of smoke, eyeing her up and down with a knowing look. "You'll fit right in," he said, almost cryptically, before disappearing into the back of the store.

Lucy shook her head. Was everyone in this place weird?

She wandered through the aisles, running her fingers over the record sleeves, trying to calm the nervous flutter in her chest. If she was going to pull this off, she needed to find some bandmates. And fast.

The guitar chimed in again, this time softer. "Just trust yourself. You've got what it takes. And you've got me. We'll figure it out. One riff at a time."

Lucy snorted, rolling her eyes. "Yeah, easy for you to say. You're not the one who has to become a rock legend before the millennium."

"Nope," the guitar replied, smug as ever. "But I am the one with the power to get you home. So you better start tuning those strings, darling. We've got history to make."

Lucy stopped in front of a poster of The Rolling Stones, staring at the wild energy frozen in time. Could she really do this? Was she about to rewrite rock history?

Only one way to find out.

With a deep breath, she tightened the strap on her guitar. Time to rock 'n' roll.