Finding Michael (Michael Jackson Fanfic)

Turn On Your Local News Station

June 25th 2009

My day had started out like every other day. I woke up, went for a jog, and then loaded up my car to go to work, like every other day.

I had been meaning to listen to my Dangerous album but things seemed to keep popping up. A call from my mom, a call from my boss, my CD player not wanting to eject the current CD. After a while I gave up, deciding to just deal with everything later.

As I cruised down the road, taking sips of my coffee, I heard the distinct beep of my phone telling me that I had a text. It was from Dee.

'Turn to your local news station' was all she wrote.

Odd, I thought, but I did it anyway.

I leaned in, trying to make heads and tails of what they were talking about.

"We're working on getting more information for you, but as of right now we can confirm that the King Of Pop, Michael Jackson, has died."

I gasped and my car swerved a bit. I held onto my steering wheel tightly, trying to keep calm and keep my car as straight as possible.

I felt numb. Every nerve in my body at a stand still.

How could he be gone?

He couldn't be.

Before anything drastic happened, I pulled off on the side of the road and turned the volume all the way up until I was drowning in the voices that were delivering the worst possible news that they could.

"And we're back. Breaking news, Michael Joseph Jackson was found dead earlier this morning in his Los Angeles home by his Doctor. We're still getting more information as we speak about the tragic event, and as of right now no one in the Jackson household has made an opening comment about the traumatic situations. Jackson leaves behind three kids in his wake. The King of Pop has died at the age of only fifty."

I rest my head against my steering wheel as my shaking hands grip it.

Tears well up in my eyes and soon I'm crying like a baby.

Michael. My Michael. He's gone.

Just thinking the words makes my heart constrict in my chest.

I don't know how long has passed before I look up again through blurry eyes and watch the cars zoom past on the busy interstate.

With shaking hands I grab my phone and dial Dee's number. On the second ring she answers.

"Dee..." I choke out.

"Shan, it happened. I can't believe it happened..."

"He's gone." The words come out shakily, "I can't believe this either."

"Do you think they know?"

She didn't have to say who, but I knew.

"Probably." I sniffle, "It's everywhere I'm sure. On every channel, on every station. It'd be hard to miss."

"This hurts like hell." Her voice cracks.

I wipe away the wetness from under my eyes and rest my head back against my seat, closing my eyes.

"I know it does..." I swallow back more tears. My voice sounding rough.

"Why did this have to happen?! He has three kids, and he was just wrapping up his This Is It project! This is ridiculous!" She yells on the other end.

"I know." I cover my face with my arm, "He's gone..."

"Listen, I-I-I need to go," she says after a moment of silence. "B-but I'll call you later. Okay? Stay strong, Moonwalker."

"Stay strong," I respond, my voice sounding strained.

After we hang up I sit for a while clutching my steering wheel.

My mind goes back to the first time I ever heard him. My Nana had brought out her old records and I seen a picture of five kids on it.

"Who's this?" I asked as I took a seat by her on the carpet. I had to have only been about six years old.

"That's the Jackson 5, honey."

"Who?"

"Just listen."

She put the needle on the record and soon a soft melody swept through the room. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever heard. I later learned that the song was called Got To Be There, and just like that I was utterly fascinated by this kid named Michael.

Posters were hung, my shelf was filled with Michael Jackson records, cassettes, and CDs, and I ran around my house singing lyrics to songs that I didn't even understand. Dirty Diana to be exact.

It was easy to be a fan in those days... And then the first allegation came out and we became more than just fans. We became activists and protestors. But what else could you become when you were constantly being ridiculed and picked on - even sometimes by our own family members.

We were in the eye of the storm. The girls and I were just children, but I always looked up to the other fans who rallied and stood up for him while we were unable to. Blissfully oblivious to the roles we would surely play some day as Moonwalkers.

Growing up was rough. Especially when you were surrounded by assholes who used every breath to diss Michael because they knew you loved him.

Some nights I came home from school crying, asking my mom why people said such mean things about Michael. Why couldn't they see him how I did? "Because they heard it from their parents" she'd always reply.

It was actually what started our group of Moonwalkers. We came together for Michael but we stayed because of the bond we had with each other, and together we felt invincible.

I decide to call into work sick today, because I feel physically ill.

The whole drive I try not to focus souly on what's happened because I know I'll break down. I kept having to wipe away the tears to keep my vision clear as it was.

Ignoring my roommate, I walk into my bed room and turn on my CD player, setting the volume to as high as it can go.

I curl up on my bed and clutch one of my pillows as You Are Not Alone plays loudly, drowning everything out.

And it's here that I really let myself mourn the death of Michael.

It sounds ridiculous to people who've never felt connected to a certain person before. That we'd drop everything we're doing and react this way for someone we didn't even know. But we did know him. Maybe not literally, but emotionally and spiritually he was always there.

His song was playing when I had my first kiss. He was there when no one asked me to dance at the tenth grade home coming party. He was there through my first break up, and when my Grandfather passed away. And the first time I drove a car by myself.

I may have been just one fan out of millions of people, but he was everything to me. He was there when no one else was.

All I had to do was turn on his music and close my eyes, and I was far far away from everything I was hiding from.

"Just the other night/

I thought I heard you cry/

Asking me to come/

And hold you in my arms/

I can hear your prayers/

Your burdens I will bear/"

I bury my wet face in my pillow, acknowledging the deep pain in my chest, knowing that the biggest fan base was feeling the exact same things all around the world. The entire earth was crying, because the King of Pop was dead and we did feel alone.