Overthrown?

The King of Pop

Waking up to the bright morning sun, I stretch my arms over my head as far as i'm able to reach. Gently bringing them to my sided I roll my left shoulder feeling a nice pop of the built up stress from the past few days. Next I begin to stretch the other till i'm satisfied with the snap. Turning my head I see the unsleep pile of leaves I went out to collect in the middle of the night feeling sorry for Giddian. Standing up and straightening my bed like the days before. I start a fire to cook the few pieces of fish I had saved from the day before.

Adding a bit of water I must of collected the night before in sort of a dream state I stir the boiling fish in the fire. Once I'm satisfied at the way they look and smell I eat my share and leave the rest for him. Using a clam shell I place it over the top of the can to serve as the purpose as a lid. Sneaking off out of the den as quietly as I can. Walking soundly I see a few palm trees ahead. Walking quickly to the tree I gather the few dried leaves under it. Walking to the next I do the same. And this pattern continues till I gather a substantial amount. Once i'm through gathering like an indian I head back to the den. Stepping carefully into to as not disturb him. I set the palm leaves down. Sitting down beside them I start to weave. Recalling the memories of when I was little when my grandmother. One snowy day in February I couldn't sleep. So I creep down the hall to the library It must of been past twelve because father had already set off to bed. Opening the doors so they wouldn't creek I saw my grandmother weaving her beautiful baskets. Her hands were illuminated by the warm orange glow of the grand fire. Every flight of her wrist and every twist of her fingers you could see perfectly. After a few minutes of just watching.

She spoke up " I know you're there child,come out" she said softly.

Walking in I hung my head afraid to be punished for beaing out of bed at such a late hour.

"You're not in trouble darling.Come sit and ill show you" she spoke kindly.

Hesitantly walking forward I climb into her lap. Placing my hands of her wrinkle frail ones she guides be in the wonderful pattern. All the while she sings a soft song under her breath like a force of habbit.

" Another day has gone

I'm still all alone

How could this be

You're not here with me

You never said goodbye

Someone tell me why

Did you have to go

And leave my world so cold

Everyday I sit and ask myself

How did love slip away

Something whispers in my ear and says

That you are not alone

For I am here to stay

Though you're far away

I am here to stay

You are not alone

For I am here with you

Though we're far apart

You're always in my heart

You are not alone

All alone

Why, alone

Just the other night

I thought I heard you cry

Asking me to come

And hold you in my arms

I can hear your prayers

Your burdens I will bear

But first I need your hand

Then forever can begin

Everyday I sit and ask myself

How did love slip away

Something whispers in my ear and says

That you are not alone

For I am here to stay

Though you're far away

I am here to stay

You are not alone

I am here with you

Though we're far away

You're always in my heart

You are not alone

Ohhh

Whisper three words and I'll come runnin'

And girl you know that

I'll be there

I'll be there

You are not alone

For I am here with you

Though we're far away

You're always in my heart

You are not alone

You are not alone

For I am here with you

Though we're far away

You're always in my heart

You are not alone"

Sang the sweet voice of my grandmother.

"Hey grandma?" I say looking in to her old face wrinkled from the years.

"Yes love?" she speaks kindly.

"Thats a very pretty song. How do you know it?" I ask meekly.

"Well darling, its by a very famous singer from when I was a young girl" she says as her face lights up as though it was a christmas tree.

"And what was there name?" I ask.

"A wonderful person named Michael Jackson" she says with a strange twinkle in her eye.

"Okay" I say.

That was how the night continued she showed me how to weave and taught me songs as we went. As was sitting her weaving my own basket I sang another song she taught me by some group called the Beatles. Singing Let It Be under my breath I barely made it to the chorus when I heard a loud moan from outside the den. Scrambling up I rush to the corner all thoughts of the basket forgotten, grabbing the knife I crouch down in the corner preparing for the worst. And the sight was outside of all the horror stories you've ever heard. In came a stumbling Giddian covered in blood with more gushing from a long jagged gash in between his eyes. He was slightly bent forward holding his sides. Not thinking I spring toward him wrapping him in a bone crushing hug. A loud gurgling moan came from his mouth. Gently pulling him from my embrace I glance more closely at his head. He coughs and warm scarlet blood bubbles from the corners of bis mouth and dribble down his chin. Realizing my mistake I gently lower him to the ground. Surveying his wounds closely I know some tea isn't

going to fix this situation so easily.

All credit goes to Michael Jackson For "You Are Not Alone"