Without a warning, or a last goodbye.
A beautiful angel.
Gone, in the blink of an eye.
Gone too soon.
But he still lives in our souls.
A legend.
A king.
The King of Pop.
Never to be forgotten.
"Michael? Michael?" He heard a voice that sounded so comforting and angelic to him, he felt he could lay there for hours. He knew he had to answer though, so whoever it was wouldn't think he was dead.
"Yes?" he said so faintly that it was almost inaudible. His eyes opened slowly to see an enormous bearded man looking at him. "Where am I?" he said a little stronger than before.
"Where do you think you are?" said the man wisely. He had a long white beard just like Santa Claus and a long white robe to match.
"I'm not really sure." Said Michael. He placed one palm on the ground to help himself up, but he fell over. The man reached a hand down to help him. Michael looked at it for a few seconds. It was massive and very pale. He took it and the man helped him up. "So who are you, anyways?"
"Who do you think I am?" Said the man in the same tone as last time. Michael was getting tired of all these questions and no answers. He needed answers, and he needed to leave. He had rehearsals for his London This is It tour this afternoon and he couldn't miss it. It meant the world to him to tour all over the globe and see all the different people and sights. "Well I am going to have to leave soon. Seeing that I have rehearsals this afternoon." Said Michael a little imaptiently. "You're not going," Said the man. Michael looked at him like he could not believe what he was hearing.