Place of Death by Cambria Covell

The obituary says ‘place of death, Hollywood, California’. It’s such a strange thing to see. Hollywood isn’t the place of death. It’s the city of dreams. People come with nothing but seven dollars or sometimes less than in their wallet and they leave with more money than god. They start off as that girl taking orders or that guy behind the counter and they leave as that face that shines brightly on the silver screen, like a beacon of what things can be. They start off as nothing and end up shooting stars that give people hope and make them want to lose themselves in worlds that don’t exist. It’s the place where James Dean still smokes cigarettes on the sidewalk as he waits to cross and Marilyn Monroe still walk the streets, blowing kisses at passersby. It is the place of dreams, hopes, fears and false immortality but it shouldn’t be the place of death.