Michael Jackson Imagines

Cinderella 1

Hustle was not uncommon backstage where hundreds of performers and musicians, designers and stage directors, managers and assistants were rushing about, bumping into one another, running, falling and getting up before they hit the ground and making sure everything was in exact order, so that the stage was set for the magician – the greatest performer known to man – Michael Jackson

But once upon a time, on a cold snowy night in Gothenburg, the heat was rising backstage as people were screaming their heads off, juggling through props and costumes and scraping the dressing room floors looking for something, something that at that moment seemed more valuable that all of them combined. A short, stout man was standing at the door of a room with a cigar in his mouth, watching all this chaos and tapping his foot nervously. On other days, he wouldn’t be disturbed even if a cat had caught itself on fire and was running around backstage, but today little beads of sweat were flowing down his round chubby face and he was blowing short puffs off his cigar so rapidly that it seemed like Thomas the tank engine was angry.

“Did you find it?” he asked, tightly gripping the arm of a stage hand who was hoping to run past him without notice

“No sir”

“FIND IT THEN!” he screamed, with a little quiver in his famously unshakable voice

The stage hand ran off into the chaos like a rabbit released from a naughty child’s tight grasp.

“Frank” a soft voice came from inside the room. The man opened the door and went inside. There was a dark stillness inside the room. A Sequin jacket, a red dress shirt, black trousers and Rayban aviators were scattered all over the floor of the room. In the corner, huddled in a chair, Michael sat with his head in his hands. He looked up when Frank came in

“Did you find it”

“No Michael, they have looked for it everywhere, searched all the rooms, every spot of the backstage, every cabinet and glove compartment, it’s not there”

“well, then ask them to search more carefully”

“Michael it’s already past 9:30, the show was supposed to start at 8. We cannot delay anymore, the fans are screaming outside, the guards are unable to control the crowd, you have to perform without it”

“I CANNOT PERFORM WITHOUT MY PENNY LOAFERS!!!!”

“Michael, we have a new pair of penny loafers, they’re exactly the same as your old shoes, put them on and get on stage”

“they are not the same Frank, they’re unworn, they have never been danced in before, I have never even worn them for rehearsals. Those shoes don’t know the dance. I cannot wear them on stage”

“Michael stop being a child. You are the dancer, the shoes don’t matter”

“yes they do! You wouldn’t understand” Michael retorted in frustration

“okay, I don’t understand shoes, but what I do understand is that 25000 people have paid money and bought tickets to see you perform, 10000 people have worked for the past four days to set up the stage, we are already two fucking hours late and the sponsors have called me up thrice asking why the ‘King of Pop’ is not on stage yet and if you are not on stage in the next half and hour, they will cancel the show and the entire cost of everything from the ticket refund to the tour bus will have to be paid by you”

“So, what are you saying that I should do?”

“Wear these shoes and go on stage!”

“But…”

“Michael! put on the shoes and come with me”

Michael hesitantly put on the shoes on. He sighed at the cold feeling of the leather against his feet. The shoes felt uncomfortable and strange. The soles were too smooth and slippery and the insides were too hard and unworn. He couldn’t dance in them, he knew it. Before Michael could respond, Frank read his expression and knew what was about to happen. So, he held his hand and almost dragged him out of the room to the downstage area and shoved him into the alighting machine.

“Prepare yourself and do whatever stupid ‘mindfulness’ thing you have to, I’m going to the stage side and in ten minutes I want to see you pop up on stage”
Michael didn’t respond. He had closed his eyes blocked frank and all the other deafening sound out of his mind. He had to go on stage, there was no other way out now.

“Joseph you’re going to kill him, please stop” his mother’s voice echoed in his ears. He watched a little black boy, scared but stubborn standing in the middle of the room, clutching his body close to shield himself as his father stood in front of him with a belt ready to strike again.

“You stay out of this” he roared “this little bastard has to make some mistake on stage. We practiced that move a thousand times and yet on stage his leg fumbles when he has to do the spin”

With a whipping sound, the belt came crashing on the little boy’s leg. It stung and left a swollen red mark on the little ankle.

“If you mess up a move next time, I will kill you!” the father growled, throwing the belt on the floor and walking away. As soon as the room was empty again, little Michael ran up to his bedroom. He put the sheets over his head and cried painfully. He could not understand why he got more beatings than any of his brothers or why his father had never spoken a kind word to him. Was he unworthy of love? Was it because he was ugly and had a big nose? Would no one ever love him in his life? And today, he was angry at himself too, why after rehearsing again and again and again, did his foot have to slip during the spin…it was very minor and unnoticeable by the audience…but he knew it, and so did his father.
The whole of the next week, the little boy rehearsed his steps over and over again, till every cell of his body ached. Even in his sleep, he moved his feet to the rhythm of the music. On Saturday, the big performance day arrived. All the brothers put on their costumes and went on stage. The host chatted up with them and while talking to the host, Michael suddenly realised that he was still wearing his old rehearsal shoes, but there was no time to go back and change now

“We present to you the Jackson 5” the host announced and the crowd cheered

The performance began with ‘I want you Back’. Michael never missed a beat, his first perfect performance. The crowd went crazy, the little boy was gone and a star was now performing in his place, his every note on spot, his every move on point. The host gushed over Michael and lauded him with praises, offstage his brothers cheered him and even the director and producers rushed to congratulate him. But amidst all of this, the little boy’s eyes searched for his father’s. He spotted them at the far end of the room. Michael walked up to him

“hmm…you were okay today” Joseph replied in a grim voice with an ever so faint smile on his face, and that was all Michael needed. His little eyes welled up with tears, his heart leapt for joy…his father had approved.
Since that day, for every concert and performance, Michael only wore the shoes that he had rehearsed in. ‘they know the dance’ he would say to anybody who asked him why he wore worn out shoes. But today, he had to go on stage again in new shoes that were not danced in. What if he messed up the spin again? Joseph would be angry. He would be whipped. Maybe he deserved the beating, he couldn’t take care of his own shoes afterall.
Every bad thing that Joseph had said for him came to Michael’s mind…Joseph is going to beat me up again…his body shivered…he clutched himself tightly again…the belt…the sting…

A soft touch on his shoulder brought him to the present. He turned around, his eyes red, tears flowing down incessantly along with black stains of the smudged mascara.