Michael Jackson Imagines

• The Arrangement (Bad Era); Pt. 1 •

'Ave Maria, gratia plena...'

As you take your first fateful step into the vicinity, to your direct right stands one of your dear friends from your very own childhood, Angela, from whose lips slip the first few sacred notes of 'Ave Maria'. Any noted and established musician in the entire world would have jumped at the chance to perform the processional song at your wedding. It's of course a precious moment for any and every bride, but your wedding is unlike most and to have been chosen to perform is a true honour.

Yet, you hadn't once considered anyone other than Angela; she suitably has the voice of a true angel and had been working hard for the best part of a decade to catch her break. You know how much an opportunity like this could change her life. She smiles kindly at you, as do the rest of the congregation, utterly transfixed by your splendour and grace.

Not a single soul present had ever seen such a beautiful bride. The intricate lace bodice sits upon your body and perfectly accentuates every curve and contour of your figure, the ivory tulle skirt a gently flowing waterfall that collects and trails perfectly at your feet. Atop your beautifully styled hair sits a delicately crafted diamond headband in the style of a tiara, securing the long veil that sweeps magnificently behind you. It trails serenely down the steps behind you never endingly, yet nothing seems as neverending as the long walk to the altar ahead of you, and the lifelong lie you are destined to live from thereafter.

'Maria, gratia plena...'

---

"Westlake studios, where are you?" you sigh in frustration, grappling with your old, crumpled map of Los Angeles while trying to maneuver your even older car by the wheel. "It's gotta be here somewhere!"

Just as you began to contemplate doing a complete u-turn and going home in defeat, you finally spotted the building you had been in search of. You swiftly pulled up, parked and switched off the ignition, before catching a glimpse of yourself in the rear-view mirror and feeling a pang of doubt.

It had been a couple of weeks since you had first seen the advertisement in the newspaper. You had been doing your usual daily job search in the vacancy column, but one ad stood out amongst the hundreds of others. It was no more than a quarter of the length of the rest, entitled "28 Yr-Old Male in Search of Wife". You usually would have scoffed in derision and flipped over the page in disgust, but the words 'sizeable financial compensation' caught your eye.

For months you had been in desperate need of a second job. You worked at your local record store and although you picked up every shift there was going, the pay was still barely enough to live on. For any regular, self-sufficient 25 year old, it would have been just about enough. Your situation wasn't like most, though.

After college, you had begun to build an illustrious career for yourself as a writer for a music magazine. No sooner had you advanced from doing the coffee-run to regularly contributing to the album reviews column, you were forced to give up the job entirely.

Things within your family life had, for a while, begun to tumble into a downward spiral. The majority of your teenage and adolescent years to date had been tainted by your older sister, Jasmine's, struggles with alcohol. She was a good few years your senior, but had struggled with her drink since high school. On the last day of your dream job, you had received a painfully overwrought phone call from your father.

Jasmine had fallen, while drunk, down the staircase of the hotel your mother and father owned.

The ongoings of that night were too painful by any stretch of the animation to relay, but events that followed resulted in you and both of your parents becoming full-time carers of your sister. She had sustained considerable injuries to the head during her fall, which inflicted major brain damage to your sister.