~~Chapter 3~~
~~The Unknown Index~~
Oh come on, He told himself. Could you be more ridiculous?
To his surprise, Prince toddled up to Michael. "Hi daddy."
Suddenly not having an appetite, Michael got up from the table.
"Hi, how are you doing?"
"I've got something cool to show ya." Prince said. He was hiding something behind his back.
"Oh really? What is it?"
Prince smiles and held out a sharp butcher knife with both hands. "I got it from Sharon."
Michael's heartbeat raced. "Prince, please, give daddy the knife."
Prince ignored Michael. "I saw Sharon throw knives at targets."
"Prince, those are dangerous. Now please, give daddy the knife."
Prince stepped back. "I wanna see how well I can throw!" Prince threw the knife. Michael ducked out of the way and it hit the wall.
"Ooooooo, I'm sorry! That almost hit you! I must have a really bad aim."
Michael took a deep breath and tried to slow his heartbeat.
"Please, don't you EVER do that again. Those things are very, very dangerous. Will you promise me you won't play with dangerous things like that?"
Prince nodded and said, "I promise." He scurried back to his room.
Michael ran his fingers through his hair. He was absolutely terrified. He took the knife out of the wall. On it were fresh bloodstains that weren't there when Prince was holding it. The voices started coming back. Those ghost-like voices.
Michael...it's YOUR blood...YOUR blood we want....
"Stop it!!!" Michael cried, covering his ears. His eyes began tingling again, but it wasn't him doing it. Some one or something was taking control of him.
Your blood...Your blood.....
The knife lifted into the air. As if handled like a puppet, Michael's hands were put in front of him against his will. His wrists were turned up. The knife flew close to his vein. Michael closed his eyes, preparing to bleed to death. The voices stopped. THe knife dropped to the ground. The blood on the knife was gone.
Since he had no where to go that night, Michael decide to write songs. He wanted to get the eerie events of the day out of his mind and also get back to his music. When he began writing, ideas started flowing out of his mind so easily. Beats and rhythms, as well as rhymes and lyrics came to him so surprisingly well. He wrote and created almost all night. He just couldn't stop; he was enjoying it so much. Soon, his body just wasn't keeping up with his mind and he began to get sleepy. Looking down at his papers, he started to actually read what he wrote. Michael gasped and sat upright when he saw what he had penned.
The last word Life left in the hands of the Lord The last thing felt Only torture can tell Your blood is drained Heartbeating stops, living in vain The last breath You will ever breathe again
"What?!" he whispered. "I wrote THAT?!" Michael read the song over again. Flipping pages, he gazed at the other songs. They all had something to do with death. What scared him most was that the songs didn't talk about other people. They all had the word "you" in it.
You're blood is drained... Last breath you will ever breathe again...
Michael shook his head. "Eerie,"
Michael got up the next day trying to forget everything involving death out of his mind. Things were going smoothly. No eerie voices, no freak accidents. Nothing. Everything was fine until the doorbell rang. Lisa Marie Presley came for a surprise visit.