There will never be an icon like Michael Jackson. He was in class all by himself crossing barriers, introducing visual art to accompany his music, a master entertainer who had a world following of people who loved him and will move forward to promote his generous image and legacy as one of the most magnificent musical artists of all time.

I opened a new forum and with some good luck and help of friends perhaps it just might take off.

http://michaeljacksonhistorypastpresentandfuture.yuku.com/



It's still under construction with new material added daily. Please stop by and let me know what you think.

Thanks,

Lj

A sample of my writing:


DISCLAIMER - This story is fiction; however, it does contain and reference true events.

Photos and official publications, including music and lyrics are under copyright and belong to individual owners of those materials. The rest and bulk of the story is mine. This story is meant for entertainment purposes only and I make no profit from it.

Prelude - Part 1

WARNING: ADULT LANGUAGE, ADULT CONTENT, ROMANCE AND EROTICA - RATING R


June 25th, 2009

So much to do and never enough time to get it all finished. I'm running the vacuum cleaner trying hard to swallow up the weeks of dirt and dust in and on it. I'm away so much, not home as much as I want at times or need to be but hey what can I do? My job takes me out on the road for sometimes only days but most of the time I may be gone for months, gaining only a short weekend break, if I am lucky.

I switch off the vacuum and the phone is ringing so I dart across the room hoping to catch the call before whoever is on the other side of the line gives up.

"Hello," I answer nearly out of breath, cradling the phone against my ear and chin.

"Do you have the TV on?" my close friend Kenny asks.

"No, I'm busy cleaning."

"Well, then stop everything you're doing and I mean stop, turn on your TV and take a seat. Tune into Fox News."

"Why? What's going on? Why the drama Kenny, what is it?"

"Just do exactly as I say." Click

Oh dear God, please don't let this be another 9/11 type terrorist attack. My heart starts racing as I grab the remote and flop down onto the sofa. Click

The screen illuminates and there is a news flash. The crawl is scrolling at the bottom and I can't read it fast enough to get any idea of what the hell is happening.

"Breaking news…we have just learned that Michael Jackson has been rushed to the hospital. He was supposedly found unconscious and not breathing at the Holmby Hills Estate where he has been currently residing. Reports are that he is in cardiac arrest and it doesn't look good."

"What…" I yell out. "No, this can't be for real!" I switch to another station. Another reporter is saying just about the same thing. Off to another channel because this is just some kind of sick joke, another erroneous report, where they have got it all wrong. When will they just fucking leave him alone?"

Although I can't believe what I am watching, I'm glued in place and cannot move. I stare at the TV flipping back and forth waiting for someone to finally come out and announce "no need to worry, just another wild ride involving Michael Jackson."

Minutes go by and turn into hours. The reporting is much of the same but now in additional to speculation, some media outlets are reporting rumors that Michael may have died.
"Stop," I scream. My head is reeling. I can't take any of this in; I can't believe it because it just can't be true.

Michael, cardiac arrest…are you fucking kidding? I know better, I know this isn't really happening and just the simple thought, false reporting, joke, whatever it is... I know it's wrong. It disturbs me beyond words that I'm hearing all of this crazy stuff. It's turning my stomach, making me ill to where I want to vomit.

"Stop, stop with the drama and all of your lies. Leave the man alone. Haven't you all done enough? You never stop! What kind of sick joke is this?" I yell. "I don't want to watch this crap." But something keeps me there, stuck sitting in place.

I'm just like every other celebrity chasing whore sitting around watching this garbage, not able to walk away from the ridiculous drama going on in front of me, especially because it's about Michael. I should shut the TV off because I know better. I am above all of this. I know Michael…personally and I know him well.

"You assholes don't know him. You don't know anything about him," I scream. "I do. I know him intimately. I am one of the very few who know the real Michael, what he is all about. I know the real man that you all constantly mock and make fun of and I know how much it hurts him."

I'm so angry right now and the tears start flowing in streams down my cheeks. I wipe them away but they continue to fall. I can't make them stop.

"Michael Jackson has died. We can now confirm that in fact Michael Jackson is dead. The King of Pop is dead at the age of 50," the reporter announces.

"Nooooooo..." I bellow out loudly. "No…." I sob.

I throw the remote at the TV and fall to my knees in a fit of tears. My heart is beating like a jackhammer and my head is spinning. This can't be for real. I can't even describe all that I feel right now. I am in a world of pain like none other I have every felt in my life.

"No Michael, you can't be gone. Your children, they are everything to you and I know you would never leave them."

The phone rings but I ignore it. It won't stop ringing. STOP, go away, be quiet, quit, shut up, I need silence. I approach it ready to destroy it completely.

"What?" I yell into it knowing someone's eardrums have just been permanently damaged.

I hear sobbing on the other end, real pain but not nearly as deep as my own.

"I ca.. can't ta talk right now," I gasp out trying hard to just breathe.

"You know then," Kenny croaks out in between sobs.

I say nothing but burst out in near hysterics, crying harder than I ever have in my life.

"I am so sorry. I am…I don't know what to say. I can't even imagine what you feel like right now," he chokes out.

I can't speak, I can't utter a single word, nothing comes out of me but a single gut trenching sob before I fall right back into that ugly abyss.

"You know you meant the world to him. He loved you in such a special way…"

"Please…" I beg," don't say that. Don't say another word."

"I'll be right over."

"No, stay away, please leave me alone right now." You stay away from me, everyone, everything - go away. I only want to talk to Michael.

"But you need someone with you,"

"No…stay away."

"I'm scared. I don't know what you might do. Let me come to you."

"No," I scream at him. I hang up and throw the phone running off to my bedroom. I want to crawl in my bed and pull the covers up, smother myself and hide. I don't want to believe what is happening. I want to make it go away and I will make it go away, I won't stop even if I have to die trying.

Hours pass…

It is dark and quiet in here, except for the racking sobs that continue that I just can't get a hold of to make them stop. I've been crying for so long, the tears should have dried up hours ago. I don't even know where they are coming from or how my body can continue to produce them. I'm sick to my stomach, my heart hurts and aches and my head is still spinning.

I hug my pillow a little tighter, off again privately conversing with God. Why? How could you do this? Why did you take Michael away from all of us?"

More silence, no peace and certainly no answers.

Minutes drag on slowly passing, feeling like hours.

I want to go to sleep, get away from all of this, wake up and find its nothing more than a bad dream, my ultimate nightmare. I know I won't rest; I won't get any sleep this night. I just keep tossing and turning, sobbing, hurting so much and it's so deep…

I beg God to grant me one wish, rest, let me go to sleep.

The phone rings and startles me breaking the eerie silence.

"Fuck off," I scream.

It keeps ringing, it won't stop. The answering machine won't pick up and take a message and make whoever it is go away.

My cell phone chimes in and joins the party. The sounds of the two together are not in unison, each off key making it all the more annoying to the point of unbearable.

I reach over to the nightstand at the side of my bed and finally answer my cell phone.

"What?" I choke out.

"I've got her, you can hang up the other phone," says the voice of a man that sounds muffled in my ear.

At that moment the home phone stops ringing. All of the noise stops.

"Hey." It's a quiet, soft voice that speaks, one that I instantly recognize. I sit up in bed, tossing everything off of me and away then quickly flick on the lamp. The light hurts my eyes and it takes a long moment to adjust.

"Tell me what's going on. Jesus, now I'll finally get the real story," I pant into the phone.

There is a long pause and I can hear her begin to softly cry. She clears her throat and there is another long pause. I know she is gathering her composure so she can fill me in. In the truth of whatever really happened I know that it must be serious, it must have been terrifying for her but in the end everything will be okay.

"Janet, say something. Please, tell me what happened? What is going on? Is Michael alright?"

More silence…and I feel like I'm dying a long, slow agonizing death right now.

"For God's sake…" I chastise her waiting impatiently for something to be said, anything. I am finally answered with a soft whimper and the faint sound of crying. She must have turned her mouth away from the phone to keep the volume down, to hide her crying and pain but I can still hear it.

I know her and I know her well. She is trying to gain some semblance and gather her composure. All along in the agony of every passing moment without any additional words from her I start sinking further and further down.

Terror grasps me again, the lack of any words scaring me, as if the silence is trying to prepare me for something way beyond bad. Could what I heard earlier possibly be true?

"Please," I beg hoping she hears me. I need something, anything.

She clears her throat again and I breathe a sigh of relief because I think she's finally going to say something and she does.

"He's gone," she says so softly I can barely hear but in fact I do. I'm speechless, devastated, and sent reeling all over again. I use everything I've got left inside of me not to completely lose it because that wouldn't be fair to her. She must hurt a million times more than I do right now.

"Are you there?" she asks.

"Ye..yes."

"I can't talk now. It's crazy here. I can't…" and she starts sobbing.

"I understand." I don't know how I manage to get those two words out.

"I have just one question that I need the answer to before I go." Her voice is cracking and so is every part of me.

"What? Anything, I'll tell you anything I know."

"When was the last time you spoke to Michael? I mean how long ago?"

"It was around a week ago, Wednesday, you know, of last week. What would that make it, uh…?" I silently count backward from today's date. The 17th, it was then."

"Okay, okay that's good. That's so good. I know you and Michael talk often, sometimes its days in a row and sometimes weeks would lapse between you talking with him, depending on whatever is going on. I figured with him preparing for the tour and all…"

"No, we spoke recently and we even talked about the upcoming tour."

"Well you're lucky then because you talked with him after any of the family did. I last spoke with him about 2 weeks ago," she informs me.

Hearing that tears at me.

"Okay, I need to go but I'll be in touch," she says quietly.

"I'm so sorry. Please convey that to everyone. Oh God, the kids…"

"It's complete chaos right now. Those babies don't really know all that has happened, they are so confused and don't know what is going on or what to do. They were there at the hospital…Prince…oh and Paris…" she breaks off.

"Go. I know you have a lot to deal with and more important people to tend to." Go Janet because I can't hold on much longer, I'm going to lose it.

"He loved you. You were so very special to Michael and he made sure we all knew that. You never judged him and were always there for him…always. I can't tell you how much that means to me," she says quietly crying.

If she only knew the details of the many private days and nights I spent with Michael and what we shared...

Prelude, Part 2

It's only been one day and I am like a lost child, starving, look for one single grain of food. What all is going on right now? How are his children? It must be so hard for his family. I hope to hear from Janet again, but if I don't I certainly can understand why, but inside I am dying and I want desperately to know the truth about what is going on and what has happened, not the droning media drips of speculation that leave me twisted and confused.

As I look back inside of the contents of my journal, I can hit rewind and relive every moment I had either spent with Michael, on the phone or simply in his presence while I was part of the Dangerous Tour and going forward.

I start reading over the very first entry dated February 22, 1992.

While passing over the words I can really go back in time. Oh, the excitement I felt when I got the call from my agent, telling me I had not only made it as a back-up dancer but I would have the chance to take center stage. I was specifically chosen by Michael himself, to be the one who would work in detail with the other dancers, running them through the dance sets and each day I would be assigned to work solo with only one, to polish and hone their moves to perfection. I was the lead trainer. When Michael felt someone needed extra instruction I would work with them in minute detail so every move was effortless and perfect.

I was told that when he reviewed my demos he was extremely impressed. After, my third live audition he told everyone…

"She's the one. She got it inside of her. She can feel everything; it's in her blood, her soul; that girl lives to the beat of a single sound. I can take her into the closet. She gets it and that's what I need, that's what I want. Put her in and after she and I work together she'll know just what I want and how I want it. That girl is the one who will be the leader for all of the others. When I can't devote the time that they need, she'll take my place."

I had danced in front of him but it was dark. I couldn't see any of them, or Michael, watching when I auditioned. Up on the stage, the lights are so bright they can be blinding. I couldn't have tried to peek out at my limited audience anyway, because when I dance, I enter a whole different world. I become one with the music, the tempo, the beat. My body moves with it and I am lost in a sense because I merge with it. I let it take me places that it, music, can only take me.

I fall into step, one by one, that leads to a series of moves. It comes as natural to me as simple breathing. My heart soars at the beauty and wonders in the way one's body can move in the form of dance. I live in that moment and the ones that follow until the music comes to an end. Each time I never fail to gracefully land, waiting for the next chance to begin all over again.

I had finally made it. I had a dream to one day dance for, and with, the master of them all, Michael Jackson, and it came true. I reached the pinnacle in my life, my life long goal and the one thing I had always dreamed about was really about to happen. It was my personal "Thriller" moment.

For numerous days I stood in the wings watching him rehearse and dance. I spent hours doing nothing but that. I was told when it was my time to finally meet Michael I would be readied properly for that moment and I had no idea what was in store for me.

For now this is too much. I close my journal because I want to go back to the beginning. I want to re-live, feel and breathe every moment. I spent so many hours dancing with him and I never realized until now it would give me a lifetime to reflect on in memories.

"Come on girl, I want to dance." I can hear him call out and beckon to me as if he were standing here right before my eyes.

I want to feel Michael's touch, hear his voice, and smell the subtle scent of his cologne. I want to nuzzle against the soft skin of his neck and hear him sigh and feel him relax and let everything go. I want to look into his warm brown eyes, see again into the depth of his soul and hold my breath in anticipation of what might come next. I want to feel his…

I want to listen to the music and most of all I want to dance but I don't want to dance alone. I want to dance with Michael but I know I will never again ever have the chance.

My favorite bands are: Adore MJ (he's in a league of his own), Nickelback, Theory of a Deadman, Thornley, Audioslave/Chris Cornell, Alterbridge, U2, Three Days Grace to name a few. So many more to name...

http://nickelback.yuku.com/directory

http://michaeljacksonhistorypastpresentandfuture.yuku.com/directory