Per 
Dallas Morborough sat by the side of the road in his ripped jeans and dirty hoodie. They contrasted everything Dallas sought out. A life of pure ecstasy, rolling in fame, fortune, and hopefully women. But right now he was stuck with the little he had. Competition in the music industry was brutal in southern California. Thousands of other amateur artists were looking for that one shining opporitunity to get to celebrity status. The few that made it usually went on to Hollywood and even got their own show sometimes. Meanwhile, only had a cardboard sign with the words "RIDE PLEASE" scrawled out in black crayon, a bottle of water, and his acoustic guitar. Ever since he moved to California, things hadn't gone his way. Living costs were through the roof and he barely had any money for a shabby apartment. So Dallas was essentially a homeless man wandering from place to place, getting the basic resources he needed to survive.
In the distance, Dallas could hear the hum of a car engine coming upo the road. As it got louder and louder he stood up and held his makeshift sign, hoping for some compassionate driver to pick him up. The dusty guitar lay at his feet as the ground started to shake at the arrival of the oncoming vehicle. He made out in the distance a volkswagen bus. It had colors and symbols all over the surface. Peace signs, flowers, stars, your standard hippie bus. Hoots and hollers could be heard from the bus as it approached Dallas.
Suddenly, the roaring engine of the bus died down and it came to a slow at Dallas' position. Dust was strewn about the air as the volkswagen made a complete halt. After it cleared, Dallas made out the bus in full detail.
"Need a ride, bro?" one of the hippies asked. He was a tall slender man with your typical 90's attire and and a bandana with a peace sign.
Dallas without hesitation accepted the man's offer and stepped onto the bus, bringing his guitar and and leaving behind his sign.
"So what's your name?"
"I'm Dallas. What's yours?"
"People call me Cyril the Space Traveler, but you can call me Cy."
It certainly was an interesting name. Dallas had been familiar with the sort of care-free hippie nature of the region, but this seemed…different somehow. Cy looked like an average guy, if not somewhat disheveled. Dallas just felt something off.
"Woah, bro, you're staring."
"What? Oh, sorry, I zone out some times. My bad."
The hippie laughed. "It's okay my dude, just go with what feels right. The universe has a way of talking to everyone. I'm getting some good vibes from you. I think the others will like you."
Dallas looked around to see if anyone else was on the bus but there was nobody. Just Cy. He swore he could've heard more than one person on the bus when it arrived.
"Here, take a seat. I'll take you back to my place."
Dallas was suspicious of the man's motives, but something compelled him to just go along. Like he was being called by something. Controlled. And then he dreamed of nothing but smoke.
It was a scorching hot day in Arizona. Forest fires had broken out in the region and nothing could stop them. All the water and in the area had practically dried up. No one dared go near them lest they be burnt to a crisp.
Dallas was in his home, strumming away at his guitar as usual. The music was soft and euphoric. Dallas possessed a talent many desired deeply. But things change.
