Not A Demon, Nor an Angel (Michael Jackson Love/Mystery Story)

Strange Events

Michael had gone to bed after trying to chase her again. He had woke up from nightmares continuously through the night, they were all similar; the girl he saw getting shot. 

Over and over again, she would be on the beach, shot. At a party, shot. Walking to her car, shot. The more he dreamed, the more gruesome they were. 

The amount of blood would grow, the screams would be more ear piercing, and her face would be filled with more horror each time. 

He finally decided to give up on sleep right at dawn, he sat up and yawned, walking out of his cold room, down the stairs, and to the kitchen to get some orange juice. 

He opened the cabinet and grabbed a glass, setting it on the counter. He turned to open the fridge, when he did he heard the sound of glass clinging and a cabinet closing. 

He looked back and the glass wasn't on the counter. He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion and opened the cabinet again, seeing that the glass was back in its place.  He looked around and got the glass back out, setting it on the counter again. He watched it for a moment, nothing happened. 

So he opened the fridge and grabbed the orange juice. He poured it in the glass and turned to put it back. 

When he turned back to the counter he realized that the juice had been drunk, "Alright, whoever is playing tricks on me needs to stop." He said aloud, but no one responded, "Prince, Paris, Blanket?" 

He looked around, but no one was there. He went to their rooms and they were all fast asleep.  Confusion flooded his face, "I need to visit the security office." He said quietly to himself. 

He headed to the office where they monitored the house, he asked for the latest video from the kitchen. They gave him a strange look, but played the tape for him. 

He watched it carefully. His eyes widened as he saw the glass lift off the counter on its own as the cabinet door opened then closed once the glass was put back. 

Then when he had his back turned to the juice, he watched as the glass rose up and tilted as if someone was drinking it, the liquid was emptied out of the glass, but went into thin air, just vanishing like someone was there. 

He was astonished at these strange happenings, yet intrigued. He was always fascinated by things of this matter. 

He headed back to the kitchen, got another glass and filled it up. He headed to the living room and sat on the couch. He sighed deeply and stared out the window as he sipped his juice. 

He heard the sound of a piece of furniture moving across the wooden floor. He looked towards the chair in the corner of the room. It moved a few feet then stopped. 

He blinked a few times then carried on watching the sunrise. Again, out of the corner of his eye he saw the chair move a few more feet. He looked at it again, when he did it stopped. 

"Ok, if there is a presence in here with me then move the chair toward me." He said aloud. 

He stared at the chair for a moment, it started slowly moving towards him, and stopped a few feet away from him. 

He smiled lightly, "Thank you for letting me know." 

"You're welcome." He heard a woman's voice whisper in his ear. It felt like she was right beside him, he even felt her breath on his neck when she spoke. But when he turned there wasn't anyone there. 

He shivered as a cold gust of wind went around him then left, leaving the warmth that was once there. He looked towards the hallway in time to see the woman he saw before in the purple gown standing there looking at him. 

She was gorgeous, her silver eyes gleamed every once in awhile, her long eyelashes softly caressed her skin as she blinked. Her cheeks were perfectly pink, even though her skin was very pale, and her full, rose red lips looked divine. 

He found himself staring at her lips as he regained his composure and stood up. When he did she started to walk away. 

"Please wait," He begged. She stopped and looked at him, her silver gaze meeting his chocolate one, "Who are you?" He asked. 

She stared at him for a long moment. "Who am I? I'm the one confined to this prison, this hell hole of a house.." She sighed, "If you must know my name is Sheila," She looked down, "I have answered your question, if you'll excuse me." She curtseyed then walked off, slowly vanishing.

Michael walked to the hall, but she was gone. "Sheila..." He whispered.