One (A Michael Jackson Fan Fiction)

Chapter 32

The rest of the break moved slowly after my return back home from Neverland. It was a shocking jolt back into the real world and all I wanted was to return to the magical secluded world that was Michael's home. I had almost begun to believe the rest of the world didn't exist in that place. No media, no hardships, just the people that worked there and us. Our own small universe away from the horrors of the world. Unfortunately the time passed and I had to leave, but I certainly spoke my regrets about it to Michael.

He listened to my complaints and wishes of reversing time through the phone, happy that I had enjoyed Neverland so much and hinted at a possible return visit some day after the tour. This offer stayed my annoyances a bit, but the time before that could happen again was far too long for my liking.

"Quinn." He laughed, laying in his bed while he talked into the phone. "Neverland is a beautiful escape from the world, but we can never wish to stay there forever. This world we live in needs to see the magic too. We have to spread it to the others, bring love back into the world. Hiding away in Neverland while the world struggles outside is worthless. While many say there is nothing that can be done, my heart says no. I know we can change the world and the children know it too. Together, perhaps someday, the magic of Neverland will reach the rest of the world and we'll no longer have to escape." he said, voice groggy with exhaustion. I wanted to deny it, tell him to escape the world and never come back because the world would never change, but I knew that was a part of me that I should never let speak. Deep down, I knew that he was right.

Soon, sleep took the both of us. It had been waiting in the shadows since we got off the plane in Tokyo. By morning we would be back into full swing. We didn't have much time to spend with each other, but conversation continued anyway. It started a few days in, Michael, or somebody Michael trusted would slip a paper note under the door. His handwriting covered the entire sheet, pen strokes of deep thought and broad concepts that haunted his mind during the days.

In my hand was one of those notes. Black letters building the doorway that let me step into his mind, even if just for a moment. Reading his words was like looking into his eyes. It was this portal of sorts, deep and surrounded by walls, but if you knew how to fly like he had taught me to do, you could see what lay inside.

Imagine witnessing the birth of the universe.

I began to read.

An explosion of galaxies expanding for eternity. Watching it over all, the great painter, the Creator. Throwing stars against the empty black canvas, forming great constellations for us to look upon. Angels above, frolicking in the abyss and one day the Creator painted earth. Earth created life and nature and beauty and from it spawned you and I. Time unbounded, we exist as does the Creator. Bits of star dust dancing within. I walk into a room and think, how beautifully rare we are.

These notes would spark endless conversations that would last into the night. Often, one of us would fall asleep on the line, lulled to rest by the ceaseless possibilities.

One day, the note that came was simple. A request rather than an idea. He wanted me to come to his room after the show so we could talk in person for longer than the fleeting moments we got between rehearsals and shows. He met me at the base of my ladder as per usual and the two of us walked to his trailer so he could give Bush the remaining wardrobe pieces. He collapsed into one of the chairs with a towel in hand, drenched and exhausted from the night's performance. The crowd had fed his energy supply the whole way through, roaring in the arena like the crashing waves of the ocean. In turn, Michael had given it everything. He looked at me with a smile. "When those lights hit me, Quinn, it's all over. I swear it is. The music kicks in and the dance consumes me. I'm not in control when I'm on that stage. It's some other force that just breathes through me." Each sentence was broken up with huffs of breath, trying to normalize the air in his lungs.

When he had rested long enough, we found our way to the vehicle entourage and were taken back to the hotel. There was a short briefing of the show and a few comments for some crew members, but it wasn't long before we were alone. Michael handed me a drink and sat with me on the couch.

Lights danced outside the window, bright against the night sky as the city came to life. Only a mere few stars painted the sky in this city, blocked from view by the light from the ground. I took a sip of my drink and turned to Michael. "You always speak of a creator, a god, angels in the heavens, angels within. All of these celestial beings... do you think you'll ever meet the creator? If there is one in the end."

Michael seemed puzzled by my question, like I should have already known the answer. "I have met the creator." he stated. "And so have you... see, you and I were never separate, It's just an illusion, wrought by the magical sense of perception. There is only one Wholeness, one Mind. We are like ripples in the vast Ocean of Consciousness." he explained. "I am the creator and so are you. We are all dancers in this dance of life. All of us are entities of life and life can never die. It is the power that brought us forth from emptiness. We are all but one creature; one being. We are all One."

A small part of me was ashamed for forgetting that phrase. He had so frequently sparked the idea of it into my head. That was the divinity in all forms of life that gave Michael his wings, that was the ancient wisdom guarded by the elephants, that was the secret kept by the children and the whispering leaves that danced in the wind. Every breath of life, a constant reminder that we are all One.