2018: This is a book, containing imagines about every Moonwalker's great King; Michael Jackson. For each day in December, there will be a new story that hopefully will help you count down the days in a fun way, until the big day; December 25th. Prep...
It was December 13th, and I was in Europe on a charity event, to help raising money for a children's hospital. They were doing research on certain types of cancer, and the work they did, was one of the leading researches in Europe. And also, it benefited children with cancer, all over the world, so it was obvious how important it was to ensure their finances. I had also donated a generous amount of money to the exact same cause earlier, and was happy to do it again because I knew it was for such a great purpose. And now, I was entering the hospital, to meet the children that were participating in a program that was trying out a new medicine, they'd been developing and worked on for years. And so far, it seemed to be a success.
"This way, Mr. Jackson!" my bodyguard shouted, to outsource the crowd of fans that had gathered on the outside. I loved my fans. I really did. And whenever I had the chance, I tried to make time to meet them and sign autographs. But today I was shushed inside without any choice at all. And shortly after, I was greeted by the hospital's management, that showed me around almost the entire building, before we finally came to the part I loved the most; meeting the children.
Since it was the time before Christmas, the children's unit was decorated with angels, Santas, garlands and hearts. There were also a lot of decorations made by the children themselves, and I found those the most beautiful of them all. But I noticed that the colors wasn't the traditional red and white. A lot of it was purple.
I walked into the main area, where a bunch of kids, with their families, were gathered. They were the healthiest ones; the ones that either had gone through the worst part, and were about to get cancer free, or kids that hadn't quite started their treatment, and had a long struggle ahead of them. And it was impossible to not be emotionally touched by their personal stories. I was amazed by how strong these small warriors were. Because they truly were; warriors. The courage and strength they showed left me completely speechless.
Later, the turn came to the children that were sicker. They were either in the middle of their treatment, or in palliation. The ones in the palliation category, were the most difficult to meet. I knew that, in just a matter of weeks, maybe even days, the little human that weakly held my hand, most likely was gone. They would become the part of the statistics of those who lost their battle. The ones that didn't make it. And it was heartbreaking.
I was meeting one of these patients, when we heard the silent song of children singing a melody I'd never heard before. They were getting closer, and the song grew in volume, before we heard a knock on the door. Then it opened, and a long row of children dressed in long, white capes, and tinsels wrapped around their heads and waist, came into the room. They had candles in their hands, and two of them even had wraths around their heads, also with candles on them. The smallest kids, and the ones that struggled to walk, had a parent or a nurse with them, to hold their hand. And one of them was too weak to stand, and sat in a wheelchair. But all of them were singing this beautiful song with such pureness and heartfelt intensity, that I had to dry a few tears.
When they were done singing, one of them came forward with a little basket of yellow buns shaped like an 'S'. I was told that the color and taste, came from a special spice called saffron, and that the song, their outfits and the buns were all, a long tradition to honor a female, Christian martyr named Lucia, that died hundreds of years ago. And she was considered a Saint just as Virgin Mary and a few others.
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