Web
www.mjsite.com
Home
Pictures
All Pictures
Fun Stuff
Fan Photos
Album List
MJ Stories
Fan Pages
Message Board
Other Stuff
Links
Old Links
Jackson Five
Little Michael
King Of Pop
Gary Days
Jackson 5 Era
Adult Michael
Browse Stories
A
B
C
D
E
F
G
H
I
J
K
L
M
N
O
P
Q
R
S
T
U
V
W
X
Y
Z
0
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10 newest stories
10 highest rated
Add you own story
Remember My Name ¤1¤
Hi. Im Kerry and new to this site and this is my first story. I know this is far from the truth about Michael but its my own fictional version of things The year is 1973 and Im 15 years old trying to get through life. Ugh, where are my manners? My name is Kerry and well how can I describe myself? I have ginger hair, light brown skin, slightly pouted pink lips and a cursed life. Maybe that is being unfair but its true. When I was 7 years old, my mother died of a dangerous mix of prescription drugs and was found days later. Ever since she passed, my father hasnt been quite the same. He used to be alot more fun to be around and showed me love beyond compare. That man died along with my mother. That man was replaced by a verbally abusive father who happens to be a womanizer. My mother wouldntve stood for that. She didnt mean to take all those drugs that day. She was terribly sick,right? It was a warm Friday night and I lay in bed trying to think of happy thoughts and ignore the moaning and groaning in the next room like every other night. I couldnt take it anymore, so I flicked on the lights and my untidy room stared back at me. I went over to where my magazines were and flipped through them. I spotted a Jackson 5 poster inside and looked at the handsome brothers in bright clothing and bright smiles on their faces. All the girls at school liked them. So did I. I would dream of them singing and telling me its alright about me hating my father and missing my mother. They made me happy. Michael was my favourite, naturally. He was so dedicated to what he did and looked so happy. He had it easy. I could hear screaming from the next room at that point. I closed my eyes tight trying to think happy thoughts of Michael Jackson or my mother but the sexual sounds were unbearably loud. Did that man who calls himself my father not tell those women theres a girl at home? On one side of my bedroom wall was a poster of my favourite singer Michael Jackson smiling. See what I mean about him having it easy?
-17 Votes for this story
Keep it I like it
Get rid of it
This Site Is Owned & Managed
By MJSite.com © 1998, 2006
