Star-Crossed Dancers

[Lulu Mercury]

Star Crossed Dancers

Genre: Romance, supernatural
All I own is the characters I created, and not any other recognizable persons. Contains content not suitable for children.


Chapter 1: Lucy Gone Back.

Had I gone back in time? One day, I was mourning the death of an idol, of a legend, Michael Jackson whom I had become obsessed with when I was 11, and I had wished, so desperately that I could have been around in his prime…and I was still listening to his music from time to time, even days before his death. I lay in bed with MP3 blazing through my ears, and tears streaming down my eyes as I listened to ‘Gone Too Soon’ because, despite it being about his young friend, it was now about Michael, and he was singing it, with his angel voice, so soft, so melodic, twining bells and smooth velvet and glittering streaming rivers. Then I listened to ‘Smile’ and my eyes were wet with tears, but I wiped them away, trying to think about something to smile about. I knew that despite the meaning and the lyrics, the song was a sad one, and for it to be Michael’s favourite song, reflected his desperation for a day, perhaps tomorrow, he’d find that life would be worthwhile…if he just smiled. Had you ever heard of astral travel? It’s where your soul comes out of your body, sometimes accidentally, but sometimes by purpose. Apparently, when we sleep, our souls depart our bodies for the night, and that’s why we dream. Our dreams are simply our soul’s adventures. Had you ever been lying there at night, eyes heavy and tired, just about to drift off…and you sort of jolt back? And it honestly, really, feels like something just went back inside something, and it gives you a fright. Now that I think about it, it feels like your spirit jumping back into your body because your brain became conscious again. Tears clung to my eyelashes. I shut my eyes feeling that heaviness, I felt that jolt, as I came back to myself, and my heart pounded, as I shut my eyes again and drifted off into nothingness. It soon became something, for I was hurled through the fabric of space and time, literally flying in a mass of darkness. I looked up, and saw so many stars that I could not breathe, for I was surrounded in stars. I was in space, flying past the moon, watching the Earth as it floated there in all of this darkness and I realised what those astronauts meant when they said despite coming to the moon, it wasn’t the moon they kept looking at. It was the Earth. It was the Earth they couldn’t tear their eyes away from. Breathtaking. I was so free, but I was suddenly sped back home, and was floating calmly through the twilight skied clouds and what I saw nearly sent me hurling back to the ground of the Earth with a thud. Michael was sitting in that crescent moon smiling at me.
But I wasn’t hurled anywhere. We looked at each other. No words and no gestures being passed between us, and all the while, I was trying to get my head around the fact that Michael Jackson was perched in the moon and it was all of these amazing things that I had seen and done that made me realise with a hammering heartbeat and a pang of disappointment shooting through my stomach, that I was only dreaming. None of this was real.
Perhaps it was this pessimistic thought that sent me away, for his face, the face I had been longing to see, sweet, bright, and smiling, was taken away from my sight and our eyes were no longer connected as they just had been. I was somewhere entirely different. I felt different…less flexible and more grounded and suddenly I was looking at a white ceiling and realised I had been asleep, because I had just woken up in bed. I groaned into my pillow.
“Lucy, get up lazy! You slept in!” an unfamiliar voice shrieked. I turned and saw that I was in an unfamiliar room, with shocking purple walls, a ying-yang coffee table and Michael Jackson posers plastered all over the walls. A big black bulky stereo was sitting by a dressing table, with its speakers attached to the walls. There was also another bed across the other side of the room with a zebra bedspread, facing a huge window that was pouring in bright sunlight, and a girl with frizzy black hair was tidying up and putting things away.
What…the...****.
Where the hell was I?
“Er…how did I get here? Who are you?’ I blurted out, as I leaped out of bed.
The girl had dark caramel skin and she was raising a finely arched black eyebrow at me.
“Lucy, you dolt. I am Cindy, your roommate. This is campus. We’re dance students. You’re name is Lucy Parsons, just in case you have forgotten. You gone psychotic or something, girl?” she asked, slipping on some pink ballet shoes.
Hold up, I was a dance student? I looked into this girls face and in that moment, I wondered if I had fallen into an alternate reality…had my body last night fallen into a wormhole? Or was I suddenly experiencing life in the body of my double? I stared at ‘Cindy’ blankly.
“Oh, right. It’s the Michael Jackson concert we’re going to tonight that obviously has you all weird. Who wouldn’t go nuts? I mean, I couldn’t sleep all night because I’m too excited, see the bags under my eyes, see them? Do you see them?” she asked, coming up to me by my bed and shoving her face right into mine to show me her dark bags.
I didn’t want to freak this poor girl out anymore by my untimely confusing reactions, such as, “OH MY GOD, I’M GOING TO A MICHAEL JACKSON CONCERT? HOW DID THIS HAPPEN? BACK IN 2009, HE’S DEAD! I MUST HAVE BLOODY TRAVELLED THROUGH TIME! I’M GOING TO SEE MICHAEL JACKSON, YEEEEEEHA! I CAN’T BELIEVE IT! OH…MY….GOD.”
So, I plastered on the most normal face that was possible for me. I knew my eyes were wide and I could feel my lips stretching into a huge grin, but it was ok, because Cindy was too and we ran up to each other, screeched with excitement and hugged, before letting go to both stare at a huge glass framed poster of him.
I changed briskly into ‘my’ dance costume and followed Cindy outside past the mingling students, through the bright green grass and towards a huge hall that, as we entered, I saw was a dance studio and our teacher was apparently waiting for us below the stage.
“Morning girls” the African American woman, large but smiling with glowing black eyes and braided hair said as she clapped her hands together. “Just begin where we left of yesterday” I wondered what her name was, and answering my silent question, Cindy hollered, “Christy, can’t we do our routine to ‘Give Into Me’ since Lucy and I are going to…HIS…concert tonight?” she squealed and I giggled, despite my internal battle between gob smacked disbelief, intense excitement and longing so powerful I could barley contain it, and the strange feeling of being suspended in time, mystical and surreal and completely unbelievable and impossible…right? This was impossible, yet I was here…
With an amused expression, Christy sighed and said “Alright.” She rummaged through her massive collection of CDs. Christy yanked it out and before I knew it, the amazing beat and rhythm, drums, electric guitar and unmistakable voice of Michael Jackson was blazing through the hall and I was suddenly this dancer, this dancer that Cindy had told me I was, and I wasn’t counting steps, and I wasn’t a robot. I was the music, I was the beat, I became the rhythm, as I moved my hips and popped out moves I didn’t know I possessed in my other life as boring, awkward, Lucy Parsons. My feet had a mind of their own, as they possessed my body with coordinated steps.
Breathless, I carried on and saw through the wall-sized mirrors on the opposite wall that Cindy was mirroring my steps and movements, and we were like one flow of constant energy and movement. One mixture of the embodiment of his music. Our hair was wild; Cindy’s a mass of black curls, mine messy and golden like a lion’s mane, swishing and swaying. We were the beat. I had an overwhelming desire to yell ‘HE HE HE’ like Michael Jackson, and so I did. Cindy and Christy laughed, deep and resounding, and then I posed on my toes, twirled around in a circle, kicked my leg, and shouted, “OW!”

[Lulu Mercury]

Chapter 2: Intrigue.

The colours of today whirled past and the sounds of today streamed past. Laugher and chatter echoed in the halls as Cindy and I rushed to our dorm after a long day of theory and practice dance lessons. Cindy’s pink ballet shoes made no sound, as she sprinted along the corridors, seemingly as light as a feather but my black flats pounded heavily, clacking along the smooth blue tiles. The concert was nearing. The most significant night of my life. Darkness invaded the skies and our tickets were staring at us on the mirror. We showered and got ready in a flurry and while Cindy was blow-drying her hair, I looked in my closet for something to wear. I was overcome with insecurity, overcome with the need to look sexy for Michael, but this was ludicrous. I would be one out of thousands in a psychotic, gleeful, partly, mostly, oestrogen filled screaming, feinting, crowd. I slipped on a black dress that clung to my curves, or the amount of curves I had on my petite body. I gazed at myself in the mirror sadly, and sure, I was pretty, but it was too innocent, too sweet. My eyes were too wide, too blue, too girlish, as was my entire, face and I wanted to be sexy and was instantly possessed with jealousy at how easily Cindy was now oozing this sexiness. Her curvy dark body and her now smoky eyes, although the eyeliner attributed to that, so I grabbed it and put makeup on, weaved my blonde hair into soft curls and we stood side by side, looking at ourselves. I sighed.
“You look beautiful” Cindy smiled.
I made a disbelieving sound and she raised an eyebrow at my reflection, so I made an annoyed huff noise.
“Well, I wish I could look sexy like you.”
“C’mon girl, men don’t fall in love with sexy, they take that booty home then ditch it when they’re bored…men do not fall in love with sexy. They fall in love with beautiful.”
That did make me feel better.
“Just for the record” I said as we hurried out of our dorm and into the waiting taxi. “You’re beautiful too.”
“Thanks, babe.”
We could hear the screams and shouts inside the taxi, as it pulled up outside the thumping auditorium. In a rush of ecstasy, Cindy and I mingled past flesh, past bodies, in the line, waiting…waiting…security guards at the doors…I could smell smoke…feel rhythm and I could sense him. Finally, we were allowed in and the stadium was already packed with a mass and mix of bodies intertwined. Holding Cindy’s hand tightly for fear of losing each other in this stampede, we etched out way slowly through bodies, pushing people out of the way, until we shoved our way to the front lines, right up to the stage that the legend would soon be gracing. We waited. We all waited, in anticipation, and suddenly, “BANG!” What was that? Everybody screamed in excitement as the stadium went pitch black and the stage was suddenly lit up in blue lights and the familiar beat to Billie Jean began…but where was Michael? The audience started chanting ‘MICHAEL! MICHAEL! MICHAEL! MICHAEL!’ with grins on our faces, and a fluttering of my heart, a pang of excitement in my stomach, we joined the chant. He walked out. As he crossed the stage, the tiles lite up white, just like in the Billie Jean video. I screamed. We all screamed. In a daze, song after song came on, and we all sang along. Despite the mass number of us, it was intimate. It was Michael and us. It was Michael and his fans, and here was Michael, the man who wished he would sleep on stage, the man who only knew himself as the stage-Michael. The man beyond the performer was someone Michael didn’t entirely know.
Then the blue lights came back, and he started singing ‘You Are Not Alone’ in his angelic voice, reminding me of silver bells and I closed my eyes as I drank in the beauty of his voice. A thought occurred to me. Only one fan would run up to the stage and hug him. I had watched it. I had heard whenever he sung songs like ‘You Are Not Alone’ and ‘She’s Out Of My Life’ he would hug and kiss a fan. I was a fan. I was passionate. I loved him. Yes. However, I was not a screechy, clingy woman who would need to be dragged away by security. I suddenly wanted to know the Michael beyond the performer, the real Michael. I just wished I could be with him and know him, not as a fan. In that instant, I didn’t care about his stupid great voice anymore or his stupid great sexy dance moves. I didn’t care about the so-called legend. I watched entranced, thoughts spinning in my head. He was just a man and I was just a woman, and I wanted to do this, more than anything I had ever wanted and butterflies erupted wildly in my stomach, as I let go of Cindy’s hand and squeezed through the crowed over to the stairs. Very calmly, I approached the stairs and his eyes has been closed but now, now, he was looking at me. Watching me. Perhaps I was only walking casually over because my legs had turned into jelly. He smiled and I stood there, and instead of running into his arms for a hug like the many other girls, I stood there, and gestured him to come to me. He looked surprised but intrigued at the same time and I couldn’t help but admire his curled hair flung into a pony with wild loose bits falling into his face as he glided over to me and embraced my body into his. I felt my body press into his and the warmth of his arms and chest and the smell of coconut in his hair and I inhaled deeply. With a quiver, I felt his hands massaging my hair. And I couldn’t help but touch his hair in turn. I swept the loose curls hanging into his eyes away, behind his ear and he shivered. Michael Jackson actually shivered. I tried to free myself from the hug, partly to show that I wasn’t like the others, I wouldn’t hug him to death and try to drag him into the crowd to be eaten by fans like a pack of lions. Also, I had just hugged Michael Jackson, he had just massaged by hair with his hands, and he had shivered as I moved his hair from his face, as my fingers had glided past his smooth skin. But he grabbed me by the wrists and pulled me fiercely back into his body and I could faintly hear the crowed going wild, but it was as if it was a million miles away, for all I could hear was Michael’s voice softly saying, “Kiss me.”
“Why don’t you kiss me?”
He grinned.
“Fine then feisty. I will. The paparatezzi are going to have a field day, though.”
“And here I was thinking you were a man that didn’t give a damn about those pack of wolves.” I retorted, with a raised eyebrow and a smirk. His black eyes glittered. We bit our lips simultaneously as we looked at his microphone and realised that everybody had heard our conversation and the press would know all about it, but proving my point, he did not care…
My whole world and reality in this time and place was warmth. Total warmth and total bliss, as his lips pressed hard against mine, furiously, almost desperately… I kissed back just as hard but then I melted into him and his lips were softly mashing against mine. It was the most perfect, most incredible moment of my life and the cliché about fireworks was true, because our bodies, ground into each other, a perfect puzzle of man and woman, were ignited in electricity, ignited, alive, and aflame like that on a dark night when the skies are alive with fireworks. I was now very much aware of the audience and that Michael had long ago, stopped singing, ‘Through you’re far away’ died on his lips and in his throat and his mic fell to the floor with a thud as he grabbed the flesh on my back and after we broke apart. We caught our breath panting, he smiled his beautiful smile for me and my heart was pounding in my chest as if it wanted to escape.
“Who are you?” he asked with emphasis, our lips centimetres apart.
“Lucy. I…I’m a dance student.”
“You are?” he asked with a mixture of breathlessness and amazement. “Oh, man. I want to see this body of yours bust some moves…”
I felt blood rise in my cheeks, as I looked at the ground, or more correctly, as our feet, our toes touching. He ran a finger over the patches of red and when he lifted my chin to look at his face, I saw that he was wearing an expression of bemusement.
He brought his lips to my ear and whispered, “You’re different than my other fans. Why would that be?”
“I…I don’t know.”
The security guards were approaching me now and I felt them grip my wrist and pull me away but amazingly, Michael tightened his grip on the small of my back and I watched dazed as a guard sneakily gave Michael a pen and strip of blue paper. Our backs were turned from the audience and, he hurriedly asked, “What’s your phone number, Lucy?”
Oh, thank God, I memorized our dorms phone number, and that was thanks to having to write it down multiple times for various dance instructors.
I told him and he scribbled it down, stuffed it into his back pocket and smiled.
“I will call you, Lucy, the dancer.” he said, his grip slackened as the guards tugged at me lightly but I noticed, endearingly, feeling so warmed, that Michael’s cheeks were bright red and he had been blushing profoundly!
“Sure, just don’t lose my digits ‘cause I’m not about to go chasing after you even if you are Michael Jackson.’ I said coolly and yanked my wrist from the guards grip angrily, and walked back towards the screeching chanting crowed and back towards Cindy, whose face was puzzled, shocked, and then completely ecstatic. I had no idea what my face looked like. Probably not as indifferent as I hoped it had, but then, as I looked at Michael who was singing again, his eyes somehow met mine, and colour rose in his caramel cheeks once more.

[astiga0802]

Please, please continue, i really like this story

[Michael4Reese]

I'm hooked!

Update soon!!

[Lulu Mercury]

Hehe thanks! I'm so happy I found this site, and I was looking for Michael Jackson fan fiction everywhere but there was hardly any and I've read some really good stuff on here, and now I can comment the fics now I joined. Yay!

Chapter 3: Laugh for the Fairies

“What a surreal night, really.” Cindy said as we lay in our beds in the pitch darkness of our rooms, listening to the rustling of the wind, which was both beautiful and scary, in its sounds of mourning and rattling.
“Surreal?” I asked, surprised. My whole experience in my new life was surreal, if not supernatural and crazy, but the concert had been surreal for me…but I didn’t see how it could have been for Cindy or anyone else. Kissing Michael, someone 12 years older than myself, had been exhilarating and breathtaking, and I couldn’t stop picturing and reliving it.
“Yeah. Although, you two looked like you were a zillion miles away, you know. It wasn’t like a fake sham publicity stunt he did…he was really, really, really, into it.”
“He was?” I asked happily.
“Surely you knew that, you’re the one that kissed him, silly.” Cindy replied chuckling.
“Yeah…I know he was into it…” I said, remembering how he had moaned as the kiss became more and more heated…how I felt something on his person stir…how when I pressed myself into him, I could have sworn he whimpered softy. I had missed these things in the overall beauty and dreaminess of our kiss, but they were all coming back to me as I lay in bed, in the darkness, in the silence.
In the taxi, Cindy had said she had almost feinted. I recalled her saying, “Girl that blew me away. Suddenly, you’re like staunch Lucy…and you use to be oh so meek.”
“I was never meek.” I retorted, as the taxi had sped through the city, while buildings and city lights blurred past us.
“Ha ha ha…please forgive me Queen Lucy, soon to be Mrs.Jackson, Queen to His Throne…and the baby princesses and princes will be simply beautiful, my dear.”
I had been torn between jubilation and fury at her words. After a few more comments in bed, expressing her bewilderment mingled with her glee in general, she had fallen asleep and I could see her silhouette breathing, her torso moving up and down gently. Now all I could hear was the rustling wind that was no longer gentle but furious, causing the rusty bike stand outside our bedroom window to clank loudly against the dorm. I closed my eyes and tried to think of things to send me to my dreams…I envisioned myself swimming through a calm ocean and suddenly he was in my dream and we were leaping through dusty pink clouds and giggling like children as we pranced through the skies. I smiled, but I still couldn’t sleep. I so wanted to be with him, to be near him, to see him, to hear him, to touch him, to smell him, to sense him. That’s when it happened. The phone rang. I jolted and fell out of bed, a loud thud to the floor, my chins aching. I sprinted to the wall that the portable phone was hanging on, worried that Cindy had awoken but as I glanced over, with the phone to my ear, I saw that she was still fast asleep. The concert had worn her out, but my mind was racing, too thrilled after I had done the unbelievable: kissed Michael Jackson…that even peaceful scenarios of leaping through beautiful skies with him, could not send me into halcyon dreams.
“Hello” I said quietly. I looked over at my alarm clock; its red digital numbers read 2.30 am. It was after I heard his unmistakable voice say, “Hello…Lucy….this is….th-this is Michael.” that I realised we had shared a connection. Our thoughts had been in synch, and that is why he rang me.
“Hi Michael, I’m so glad you rang.”
“I…hope you don’t mind that I rang so soon, I just…I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”
“I couldn’t stop thinking about you either. I have been trying to sleep but couldn’t because…well…because of you.”
I heard his breathing through the phone. I heard a shaky and sharp intake of breath.
“Michael, are you ok? “ I asked softly.
“Yeah. Yeah. I was worried I had woken you. Can I ask, what exactly you were thinking about?”
I breathed in deeply. “Our kiss. It was magical.”
“Magical is exactly how I thought of it but it was so…passionate…and I’ve never had that with a…with a girl. I mean…a woman. I mean…’
I laughed out loud. I couldn’t resist. I loved that he was so nervous. He was completely too cute.
“What’s so funny?” He asked, rather hollowly. I was worried, then. Maybe he thought I was laughing cruelly?
“I love how cute you are, is all. When you’re nervous.”
“Oh. I am too shy with women. Too shy, period, actually. But I’m glad you like it.”
I smiled, because I could hear the smile returning to his voice.
“I’m too shy too, don’t worry. I haven’t had a proper boyfriend…they show no interest…actually, you have nothing to worry about, I am Queen of Clumsiness, foolishness, goofiness, awkwardness.”
“I love goofiness. Just like I love Goofy and all Disney, and Peter Pan…” Michael said laughing.
“Peter Pan is the best movie in the universe. I love the bit where Peter says ‘I do believe in fairies!’ and then even through Wendy and the Lost Boys are in a totally different place. They somehow get the connection and hear it and say it too then the whole world says it, and Tink comes back to life…but Peter was so lonely…and I felt so sorry for him yet at the same time kinda mournful because it made me realise how sad it is that we’ve lost our childhoods and how sad it is that we change from these innocent engaging beautiful little people…into adults who are negative and boring and annoying! We become all the things children despise!” I was ranting. Now I felt myself blushing as I waited and listened to the silence. Great. I had annoyed him with my long ramble.

[Lulu Mercury]

I heard audible sniffing and a choked gasp.
“Mi- Michael? Are you…are you alright?” I asked shocked.
“Yes. I’m sorry. It’s just, everything you said is what I’ve always thought and felt in my heart. I love that book and that movie and I have always related to Peter Pan because I felt like I never got to be a kid, a normal kid. All the things I long for now are so simple. What my heart, like, really desires is not stuff my millions can buy. It’s lost. It was stolen from me. No matter how hard I try to recapture it with my Neverland and my rides and arcade games, it’s not the same. A part of me is missing; because he stole it…Joseph took it and replaced it with my fame. And to hear you say those things…I’ve never met someone who ‘gets’ the story the same way! I feel like I am a kid, and I don’t ever wanna grow up. I want to prance around clouds and fly around the stars, fight pirates and run around with Indians…wouldn’t that be fun?” he said with excitement raging through his voice, replacing the sadness that had leaked through every chord of his voice as he spoke of Joseph stealing his childhood.
In these short moments, my heart had been torn apart at his words. Then my heart was stitched back together after he mentioned the clouds and the stars…the pirates and the Indians…but the prancing through the clouds…I leapt out of bed and walked towards the French doors leading me to the veranda. I sat on the loveseat, and gazed out at the jet-black sky, watching the Milky Way and the moon. If I looked hard and long enough, I could see the craters in the moon.
“That would be so fun. Michael, I have to tell you something. You know how you mentioned prancing through clouds? I saw us doing that, in my head, moments before you rang. When were leaping through the skies…and it was so pretty.” I said, watching the skies, and swinging back and forth in my loveseat. I had completely forgotten, due to the bizarre reality I had fell into, of Neverland and Michael’s love of Peter Pan, and I realised, as I waited for Michael to speak, that we had both bared parts of our soul to the other, over the phone, and we had only just met. It had only been hours since the concert and we were exposing ourselves…I wondered if it was because we seemed to connect and click, as I had with no one else, ever. Michael Jackson seemed like the least likely person to click with, yet perhaps a misfit and a highly misunderstood man, maybe it was not at all unlikely.
His moments of silence once again unnerved me.
“Michael?”
“I was seeing the same exact thing. This is the most unusual, strange night of my life, Lucy. We…we don’t know each other, we met once…on stage. Now we have talked, on the phone. That is it. It is as if I’ve known you forever, though. I hate sounding cliché. I trust you. I…I have to admit, I was intrigued by you. There’s something about you, I can’t place…can’t put my finger on. I like you so much.”
“I like you so much too.” I said, smiling and feeling so warmed by his words but also guilty because I was so ordinary yet extraordinary, as I was literally from another place and time. This was the catch, wasn’t it? This was the little snag, the mystery about me and the horrible doomed secret.
“This is completely out of character for me, you know. I don’t usually ring up fans and express these kinda things. People roll their eyes and think I’m being stupid when I complain about how hard it is to find someone. Someone to be mine. Someone to be my girl. They say, every girl in your 3.5 million person concert loves you but it’s just like friendships. How do I know if someone is my friend for who I am or for what I am? Same with relationships. It’s so hard. You’re a fan, too, yet all the other fans…are in love with what I am aren’t they? Or…well, that’s not fair. I know they love who I am too. I just had a hard time conceiving of choosing one…choosing who and why? And I wouldn’t want the one I chose to be always in awe of me, always idolising me. So it is so hard when you’re famous. Famous people are lonely. At least, I always am. Another thing…they…people say, you have all these fans, all your family, all your friends, so how can you been lonely? They don’t get it.” Michael said so quietly, so softly.
“They don’t understand that loneliness and being alone are two different things. You can be surrounded by people and be lonely. It is an awful feeling. I understand it very well.”
Michael asked me about my loneliness and I described how empty it was, sometimes. Sometimes I was alone, not lonely. Sometimes I yearned for company when other times I was with people, but lonely, because we were worlds apart and we were not the same. Michael and I talked about everything and anything and we both laughed so heartily, so readily, it burst from our souls like a joyful dance and glittered off into the skies, perhaps to sprinkle some dust into the creation of newborn fairies. I voiced this and Michael said he dreamed of it, so somewhere out there, in the infinite universe; it was true, since we had willed it. He told me, “Whatever can be imagined, is possible. To think it, to create it, gives it life.”
We both got so carried away that we had lost time. Time itself was a strange concept, especially to me, as I was caught in this time warp, but time wasn’t important. He asked me where I was and I told him I was gazing at the millions of stars, at the shining moon, on my loveseat and I asked him in turn. He said that ever since we had talked of laughter giving birth to fairies that he had been sitting on his window ledge, staring out into space, too. We were miles apart but I felt like he was here with me.
Time was irrelevant. All that mattered was his voice, his sweet voice. And my voice. And every single important and sometimes unimportant thing we talked about. We both realised that how you came to feel like you had known the other ‘forever’ was often because of the substance, and length of time, you talked to that person. You could discover aspects of a person in mere hours and you could learn more about that person in those hours than perhaps years. The sun was rising, and I heard birds chirping. I yawned.
“The suns rising, Lucy, the light of the day. Hey, Lucy means light, right?”
“Yeah. And Michael…Michael was the highest order of Angels. Archangel actually. Means ‘Like God.’”
“Aha. Although, I don’t like my middle name.”
Joseph. Yes. We had discussed Joseph in length and at times, I had been reduced to tears so severe I needed to sob, to gasp. I held the phone away so that Michael wouldn’t hear but the strange tone to his voice, shaky and odd, made me believe he heard. He cried, speaking of how he wanted to play with the children in the park and how his dad had beat them all up, standing their with a belt in his hand as he stood over them, whilst they practised performing. Michael didn’t want to look like that man, and Michael never did look like him. So I told him.
It was nice watching the sun glisten over the sleeping town. Today was Sunday so I could sleep in and not worry about dancing. I yawned and Michael laughed, saying that he was tired now too and that we should both sleep.
“I will call you soon and we can arrange to meet somewhere…sometime…soon. Is that, um, alright…with y-you?” Michael asked hesitantly.
“It’s more than alright. I’ll see you later, Michael.”
“Sleep well, Lucy. Even though I’m one to talk, please remember that there’s no need to feel lonely because we found each other and we, er, we connect, and I, well, I had better sleep now. I have dance rehearsals later.” He paused. “Oh, and Lucy?”
“Yeah?”
“Laugh as much as you can, so that millions of fairies are created.”
“Only if you do, too.”
“I promise.”
“I promise, too. Sweet dreams, Michael.” I said and paused. I hung up. I hoped he wouldn’t think me rude but I felt like there was nothing more to say. I looked at my watch. It read 6.04 am. We had talked all of those hours…about Peter Pan and loneliness, laughter and fairies, the universe, the stars and the moon, human nature and our joys and our sorrows, from our compassions to even our flaws. I learnt about Michael’s anger and how he sometimes gave in to anguish by swearing and breaking things. It was hard to imagine Michael in such a state. I had cried and I had laughed. It was important to laugh, not cry. It was important to smile, even when my heart was breaking. I missed my family, my friends, my world, yet I did not miss the anguish and pain that world brought me. I did not miss being ordinary. I did not miss being another stone, when I always wanted to be the special gem amongst the ordinary rocks…but now…now my heart was breaking for Michael. With his fame, came so much pain. I wished, as I crashed onto my bed, that Michael could have been a normal small child. I wished he was getting dirty in the mud with his friends, squirting each other with water pistols, playing in the park, riding his bike and falling off it. My heart cried for the fact that, as a boy, Michael never collapsed into fits of laughter so powerful that he could scarcely breathe with childhood friends. He never had childhood friends and I really, really wished he had.
I fell asleep as my head began spinning with too many thoughts and suddenly I had the wings of a fairy. Bright and glistening, red as the flames of a fire. I was soaring through the sky and was at total peace with everyone and everything, including the calm world beneath me.

[Lulu Mercury]

I woke up with a jolt and looked over towards Cindy’s bed. She was gone. The sun shone into our room brightly and I contemplated my phone conversation with Michael Jackson, of all people in this universe. I realised that even though my heart had at times broke for him, even though as I lay back in my bed, it was shattering for him…I saw that I did have to smile…if not for Michael, if not for me, for the fairies and everything the fairies represented. They needed my laughter, so I thought about our plan to dress up like Peter Pan characters and walk around town ‘normally’ I snorted, laughed, and fell off my bed when my hysterics bubbled through my chest. Michael would look hilarious as Tinkerbell, perhaps. However, I knew he’d be Peter. His disguise would be so brilliant, he would be able to walk around California with me unnoticed and free.

[end of chapter 3]

[astiga0802]

Love it!!!!! Please keep updating

[Michael4Reese]

Awesome!!

[Lulu Mercury]

Chapter 4: Dance for Me, Sing for Me

The following two days flew past me in a blurry haze. All I could think about was him. I chose to keep our phone call that lasted until the sun rose a secret. The only people I could say I knew intimately in this new life were Michael, Cindy and Christy.
“Is something wrong, sweet?” Christy asked, pausing the music. I had been dancing mechanically, because I was so anxious. The only thoughts streaming through my mind were ‘When will he call me?’ ‘Why hasn’t he called me?’ ‘Did I say something wrong?’ ‘Did I reveal too much?’
“Um, n-no - nothing-”
“Oh, it’s not nothing. She kissed Michael Jackson on stage! Although other fans have ran up to hug him, one succeeded I think in kissing him…but it’s got Lucy all hot and bothered I think! Oh, man, Christy, I couldn’t believe what I was seeing…” Cindy blabbed on further over Christy’s shrieks and then they were both talking at excessive rates and glancing over at me every few seconds.
“And he kissed you back?! Holy hell, I thought he was…”
“Gay?” I finished for Christy, remembering from my previous life in the future all the speculations, which led to songs like ‘Tabloid Junkie’ It had so annoyed me, and I had wondered what it would be like to have your life under a constant microscope, as if you were some sort of bizarre alien. And that was precisely how they treated him, like he was an alien from a strange planet.
“Well, no women around…he is pretty strange, you have to admit it girl. What’s with the pet chimp? And-”
Now I was seething.
“Are you really that narrow minded? What IS so odd about having a pet chimp and loving it? Why do the media make him out to be some sort of oddball? Do you believe everything you read? You judge him for having no women around, like he should have an entourage of them…maybe, have you considered, he’s a gentleman? Do you not consider that maybe being famous makes it really hard to find someone, too? It makes you very isolated. How can you say he’s strange? There’s nothing strange about him…it’s the world that’s strange! The media are vultures and the people who believe what they say are ignorant.” I snapped testily and caught the shocked look on Cindy’s face but I didn’t bother looking at my dance instructor’s face. I had been in this world for a mere few days and yet it was as if I had danced a long time ago, somewhere else, someplace else, maybe another life. Or maybe I had attuned myself to the beat and rhythm and was simply adaptable, but I despised how robotic I had been dancing today, and I was furious at that but now completely incensed at my teacher’s ignorance. To top all of these angst feelings off, I was feeling anxious and paranoid…just because he hadn’t called since Sunday and it was only Tuesday. I was becoming the type of obsessive clingy women I’d always hated. I stormed out of the hall and breathed in the air outside deeply as my feet crunched the flaming red autumn leaves on the pavement. I had to escape this, so I decided to go into the city and as the sun blazed hotly against my black top, I thought I would swim at the local pool. I swam, I ate lunch at a Thai food inn, and then I shopped and came across a manicure shop. I raised my shabby looking nails to my eyes and saw that they could do with a manicure. Fifteen minutes later, I was sitting in a lime green store with my hands over a basin, chatting to a talkative redhead.
I suppose it was inevitable that Michael Jackson would come up.
“You went? I went too! The guy is a genius. A legend. I almost feinted but I’m glad I didn’t ‘cause I’d watch the videos, y’know, where all the people feint, it’s quite hysterical really.” The woman, named Linda, said as she filed my nails.
I laughed. “I can never stop laughing either when I watch that. He makes them pass out. It’s hilarious.”
“Some people that night passed out at the beginning! Poor thing would have missed the whole concert I imagine. I saw her being carted away in a stretcher. What was your favourite part? It’s so hard to pick because it’s all so amazing but I think my favourite was when he sung ‘I’ll Be There.’ It brought back memories, it is such a sweet song, and he’s such a sweet man, really. The press are just horrible. Look what they’re saying now!’ Linda said, green eyes wide, as she flung a magazine at me and on the front cover was me, and him. Kissing. My face was obscured by my hair so Linda could not tell that I was her.
“So what? He kissed a fan…” I mumbled.
“Whoever that poor girl is, she must be getting hassled by all her family and friends. Read the article.” I looked at the picture of Michael and me and wanted to laugh because all of my family and friends weren’t here. I flipped the cover open and began reading -
‘King of Pop, Michael Jackson, spontaneously hugged and passionately kissed a fan at his sell-out concert last Saturday. The unidentified blonde woman walked onto the stage, stood and waited, while Michael came forth and embraced her in a hug, and then he reportedly initiated the kiss. Fans went wild and we have gathered some reactions.
“It was unbelievable. We never imagined Michael would kiss a fan like that.” Long time fan Tina Hudson said.
Paparatsi have tried to track this woman, but sources claim, it is difficult as she has been untraceable, and no one can identify the mystery woman [….] ‘
I stopped reading. I did not care. I hated the media in my old life, I hated them for attacking Michael, and I hated them now, more than ever, as I was around to see it in real action. I was here to see TV reports of speculations and hysteria over how ridiculous Neverland was and how absurd it was to have Bubbles as his pet.
“It’s rubbish. Everything they say is stupid.” I replied evenly, handing the magazine back.
“But you didn’t look at page 22! There’s pictures of his new nose! And you can’t really deny it, I mean, it’s slightly more refined, if you look at the before picture too…don’t get me wrong, hon, I love him, but I feel sorry for him. Now, what colour would you like me to paint your nails?” She asked, flipping out an option chart.
“Hmm…red, thanks.” I replied, sticking my fingers out as the first splat gathered on my thumb nail. “And Linda, I don’t feel sorry for him. I wish some things had been different…like imagine having no childhood? Imagine being referred to as ‘Big Nose’ I imagine that would give you a complex about your nose, so who can blame him for getting it changed? Why does no one talk about the other celebrities and their plastic surgery as if they are bizarre weirdos? Why don’t they say, Joan Rivers! Look at her face!? Anyway, he is so beautiful. Don’t you think he has a dazzling smile? He dances so sexy, too.” I added, and watched Linda’s eyes light up as she began recalling her glee at seeing the crotch-grab live. I had enjoyed that immensely also. In fact, I had wished I could grab his crotch and see his reaction to that! I giggled.