Louis Horan is a 31 year old famous solo pop singe
Louis Horan is a 31 year old famous solo pop singer, that died recently from alcohol and drugs and jumped off the 3 story hotel he was in. He has short straight brown hair, kind dark chestnut eyes, white skin, small stubble on chin, tattoos on both arms, and was wearing a white tank top and black sweatpants with red stains on it. Months after he died he finds himself in the U.S. in a small town, and is in a different continent than in which he died. He also recently discovered depending on his mood it changes his appearance of what age he looks like. He disguises himself to be a teenager, and uses a different name for himself. Couple weeks later he starts going to school, befriends a high school girl that recognizes him. And tries to help him get to the U.K., because then he can audition at Europe’s Talent. He has been in Europe’s Talent two times, when he was 15 and 17, and now he’s back. Where he will sing one of the songs that he sang while he was in a band. He will see the members of band he was once in, and they are all finally in the same room, after 8 years. The band members are in the second row behind the judges, and he is so nervous to see them that he says that he wants to die again. But in the middle of the song he turns into what he looked like right before he died. And everyone is shocked, and thinks it’s fake. But once the song is over he starts to cry, and reveals that his real name is Louis Horan. Then suddenly blood starts to stain his shirt and he collapses to the ground and dies in the same position as did the first time.
The End
The humid air hung heavy over the quaint town of Harmony Springs, Missouri. Louis Horan, or at least that was the name he’d chosen, adjusted his worn baseball cap and tugged at the collar of his oversized t-shirt. He was 31, but with the right clothes and a carefully cultivated frown, he could pass for a high schooler. A lifetime of fleeting fame and the lingering sting of regret had left him feeling like an imposter, a ghost in his own life. He’d been dead for months, a fact he’d learned in the surreal void between his demise and this unfamiliar town. He hadn’t even known what continent he was on.
He’d found himself in Harmony Springs in a state of disorientation. His body, still marked with tattoos and bearing the scars of his past, was an anchor to his reality. He had a fleeting appearance-shifting ability that came with the territory of his afterlife. One minute he could be the teenager he’d dreamt of becoming, the next, the haggard, worn-out man who’d stepped off that hotel balcony. A shiver ran down his spine as he caught a glimpse of his reflection in a shop window; the familiar, haunted eyes staring back.
The first few weeks in Harmony Springs were a blur. He’d become friends with a girl named Sarah, a bright, enthusiastic soul who was determined to help him find his way. He discovered she was a fan of his, not of the pop star Louis Horan, but of “The Rising”, the band he’d been part of before his solo career took off. Sarah’s dream was to audition for Europe’s Talent, the very talent show that had launched Louis into stardom.
The announcement for the US auditions for Europe’s Talent appeared on a bulletin board at school. The sight of it triggered a wave of anxiety, a visceral fear he hadn’t experienced since his last performance. He’d been on the Europe’s Talent stage twice before, at 15 and 17, but back then, he’d been an ambitious, hopeful young man. Now, he was a ghost of his former self, haunted by the echoes of his past.
He tried to reason with himself, to convince himself that he was simply a spectator, a silent observer in his own life. Yet, the pull was undeniable. He felt a yearning, a desire to step back into the spotlight, even if it was just to see if he could still sing.
On the night of the audition, Sarah sat in the audience, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. Louis, disguised as a teenager, sat in the wings, his heart pounding like a drum. He could hear the music, feel the familiar energy of the stage. The anxiety was overwhelming, a suffocating weight he couldn’t escape. As he walked onto the stage, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of dread. The judges, a panel of industry veterans, looked stern and unapproachable. He caught a glimpse of his band members, their faces a mixture of curiosity and disbelief, seated in the second row. He was so terrified of their judgment that he thought he would die.
“I…I don’t know what to do anymore,” he said, his voice trembling. “I just want to die. I just want to be back to that…that…” his voice broke. “I just want to be back…”
A wave of sympathy rippled through the audience. He could feel their pity, but it did little to ease the torment in his soul. Then, he closed his eyes, and the familiar chords of “Never Say Goodbye” filled the air. He started to sing, but the voice that emerged was not his own. It was the voice of the man he’d been just before his fall. He had transformed, his appearance shifting to his most recent living form, his white tank top stained red just like it had been the day he’d jumped.
The audience gasped. The judges looked stunned. The band members, their faces frozen in disbelief, exchanged anxious glances. The audience assumed it was a clever stage trick, a bold move. But when the song ended, the facade crumbled. Tears streamed down Louis’ face.
“My name is Louis Horan,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “I’m…I’m dead.”
The realization hit him with the force of a tidal wave. He’d been lying to himself, hiding from the truth. His death wasn’t a forgotten memory, it was a part of him.
Suddenly, a wave of dizziness swept over him. He felt the familiar sting of blood as a crimson stain seeped through his shirt. He collapsed, falling to the ground in the same position he’d landed when he’d jumped. His life, a fleeting echo of his past, had come to a final end. The audience was silent, their shock turning into horror.
The end.
