TIME Dreaming

PLACE Dreaming

What a perfect sound of laughter. The thought of ... MICHAEL being with me in such an intriguing situation was just simply fabulous! Look at me~ I was not scared at all.

Well, I had better be outgoing in order to make friends, right?

"Call me Cosmo." I was smiling.

"Hmm," He thought for a moment, "why would you think I don't know your name?"

"You don't have to know my name. I'm just being welcoming." No way to trick me from calmness.

"Can you look around?" he was still behind my back.

"There's nothing here."

"Then why are you here? Why aren't you scared?" he challenged.

"Well, what did you expect? I create stories. I have a lot in mind, it's not so hard for me to perceive somewhere like here. By the way, where are we?"

"You seem perfectly at ease. I think you're able to find out by yourself."

"How? I can't see anything."

"You will eventually." He paused to let out another breath, without inhalingly, "do you know what day it is?"

"No." I guessed a terse answer would be less stupid.

"It's a big event. I don't want you to miss it. Will you come? There's a feast. If you're not hungry, at least have some desserts."

"Celebrating what?"

He hesitated, "Bestowal—like that."

"I wouldn't mind. But will there be a lot of people like you at the table?"

"Yeah. And people your age."

I felt a surge forward. Because I couldn't feel my torso, it was like a force of wind leading me to go with him. This was the first time that I had caught a glimpse of him. He was in a wide pastel shirt with long sleeves, his coal dark hair jumping delicately, hands in his pockets, a casual smile on the edge of his lips.

He seemed like a splashing firefly, glowing softly to disperse the uniformity of the rest of this color. I replayed the conversation we had in my mind, and I regretted everything I said—I wasn't being nice. Why would he listen to such an obtrusive featured personality?

We glided for a few more seconds before he reached his arm out and gave me a sudden stop at the waist.

"Watch your slide." He mumbled impatiently, "You were going to hit the marble sculpture."

"Well, I can't see anything in front of me, is that my fault?" I hated saying this, when did I become so rude? I didn't understand…

"Not your fault." He answered, "So in other words, guess you can't see anything here but me."

"Why?" I felt a mysterious sense of ease and pleasure secretly.

"I am more important, to be forthright."

"Why are you important?"

"It's a step."

"Step to what?"

"I have to help you find out."

"You are going to help me find out why you're important?"

"Seriously? Oh, forget it. Just watch your step. The people are watching."

"I can't see anyone."

"They can't either but they can hear you."

"You're bluffing."

He ignored me and raised his right hand, pointing to the middle of nowhere with a long, white finger. "That, that place, is where the desserts are—you can't see them yet."

"Since when did desserts become principal?"

"It's going to be the first or the last thing you eat. So then, why don't you go ahead and see if you can smell them?"

"Can I ask why again?"

"Just smell them first." He frowned.

I carefully found my way around the sculpture. The desserts were special. This person wanted me to smell them with dogged determination. He was watching me from a distance. And his eyes were black spheres as a whole, that added to his enchanting charisma.

I got closer and closer to the desserts.


A/N:

I've just realized there really isn't much of MJ here. Maybe he only serves for an ideal hero for this.

I've changed the story's name from Crownless King of Pop Michael J Jackson to Heaven's desserts. I don't own Michael, I love him.

Thanks for reading and please review, please review, it's our culture here to repeat, please review!

Hes