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Being There	By : Carlac80 Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Michael Jackson Views: 1359 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is purely a work of fiction! I do not know Michael Jackson nor any members of the Jackson family, and I do not profit from these writings.

Chapter List
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Chapter Two

When I woke up on my own rather than with the assistance of an alarm clock, I should have known something was off. When my bare feet touched the hardwood floor rather than bedroom carpet, I should have known something was wrong. However, I did notice something was off when I noticed a dramatic difference in height. It would appear that my usual 5’6” frame was something of the past when I noticed that I was a whole foot shorter. Once I decided to look for a mirror, panic immediately set in when I noticed that the room looked nothing like the one I fell asleep in the night before. I mean absolutely nothing looked alike.

“Okay Janice.” I said to myself and was immediately thrown for another loop. My voice was the voice of a child. “Don’t freak out. Stay rational. Stay calm.”

After a few minutes of deep breathing, I decided to look for a bathroom. Opening the door, I decided to step out into the unknown. Luckily for me, the bathroom was right next the bedroom I had just exited. After finding the light switch, I was once again jarred by the height difference because I could only see myself from the neck up in the bathroom mirror rather than my whole torso. Looking in that mirror also confirmed my fears. I was looking into the face of someone I had not seen in fifteen years, my ten year old self.

“What the hell…” I didn’t know which way to start, so I just decided to focus on the basics. The first task was to relieve my bladder and trade the night gown I had on for some jeans. Once I was more comfortably clothed, I decided to have a better look around the house starting with what was supposed to be my room I take it since I saw pictures of myself and the clothes fit me to a tee. As I moved about the house one overarching vibe ran through the décor, retro. I don’t mean retro of late eighties/early nineties that constituted my childhood, but something much earlier than that. I would have to say fifties or sixties actually and that left me immediately looking toward the kitchen or living room for a calendar.

In my haste to find a calendar and get my overall bearings, I had forgotten that the house would more than likely have other occupants if I was essentially a child. I was reminded of my place when I heard a voice that sounded familiar yet foreign.

“Janice! Now what did I tell you about running through this house. You are entirely too old for this.” I stopped dead in my tracks. Things had definitely taken a turn for the weirder. Everyone knows the sound of their mothers’ voice when they hear it and I am no different. Turning around, I was again shocked not just by the sight of my mother but a sight I only saw in old photographs since she had had me much later in her life. Despite the fact she was 75 pounds lighter and looked liked she wasn’t a day over thirty, that “I mean business look…” was exactly the same as I remember it being.

Deciding that partial honesty was the best policy, I told her that I was looking for a calendar to which she rolled her eyes and moved towards the kitchen. “What good it would have done if you had something to do today. Do you know it’s past ten? You have one month to get back on your schedule before school starts.”

Sitting at the kitchen table, I watched her as she moved about the kitchen with ease despite it being foreign to me. She returned to the table with both a calendar and to some breakfast. Just as I was about to glance at the calendar, my stomach decided which item held precedence as it growled. As I ate my sausage and toast, I was comforted and weirded out with the realization that there were no eggs on my plate. I hate fried eggs. Most of the world doesn’t and this minute detail brought me back to the reason I was rushing into the kitchen in the first place.

Once I glanced at that calendar, it took everything I had in me to school my reaction and not freak out.

July 29, 1969

What the frick? This was too much. I needed to think and I needed additional proof. “Can I go outside?” I prayed to all entities that she would say yes.

“Can I?” Wow, mom. Some things never change.

“May I go outside please?” I asked again putting emphasis on the may and please.

“Go ahead, but don’t get sick out there in that heat and don’t forget you have piano lessons at three.” As I walked towards the front door, all that was going through my head was 1969. There is no way in hell I could be in 1969. I took one step out the front door and realized that I not only had a time issue. I also had a location issue, because for the first time in my life I was actually looking at a palm tree in person. It would appear that I was no longer in Washington, DC anymore. The science fiction geek in me considers that a good thing since that means I have a less likely chance of meeting up with anyone I know and changing things by my presence. One of the first pseudo-rules of time travel.

Sitting on the front step of the house, I took in the neighborhood and the cars parked in the driveway. Every single car I saw looked like a classic to me supporting the belief that I was no longer in 2009. The dress was also different. Thinking back on it, my mother had on a skirt. An honest to God skirt and even in the room I awoke in, it took me forever and a day to fish out those jeans within all those skirts and dresses.

Coming to the realization that I might actually be in the year 1969, made me think about all the things going on in the world. Goody, I’m still viewed as a second class citizen by over half of the country. Man has made its first appearance on the moon. Richard Nixon is president and we’re in the middle of the Vietnam War. It’s a time of great change and it was apparent as I looked about the neighborhood. Considering the time period, it would appear that my mother was doing very well for herself if I were to judge by the house and everything.

Okay. I had accepted the reality that I was in 1969, now the next question was why?
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Being There