You ran for your life. The sound of your heart pounding in your ears was almost as loud as the sound of your feet pounding against the pavement. Michael tightly gripped your hand in his own. You looked at him. His eyes were wide with terror, but there was a determination in the firmness of his grip that told you he wouldn't let anything harm you if he could help it. A surge of courage swept through you. No matter what, you wouldn't let anything harm him either. But right now, all you could do was run.

The street stretched ahead of you as far as you could see, but as the two of you ran farther, a horrifying realization swept over you: the street was a dead end, blocked by a tall, chain link fence. Michael noticed this too, and both of you stared at the fence with a look of wild fear and desperation.

"Michael, what do we do?" you half-shrieked.

"Keep running!" There was no other option.

As you reached the end of the street, you were relieved to find that the street turned to the right. Michael smiled with reprieve and turned to you, his determination returning. "C'mon, let's go!" The two of you ran faster than ever, racing down the street. You stole a quick glance over your shoulder. The zombies that had risen from the cemetery were still chasing you, but they moved with slow, staggering steps. You and Michael would have no problem outrunning them. For a second, you felt safe and a little confident . . . but only for a second. That's when Michael screamed.

You whipped back around and gasped in horror. "Oh my God," you cried, clasping your hand over your mouth. Warm tears dripped down your cheeks and over your hands. A horde of zombies was approaching from the front. Their arms were outstretched, barely covered by ragged, muddy clothes. If the two of you had ran more than five more steps, you would have run right into those rotting arms. Their fingers, bony, rotting fingers, reached out to grab any source of food they could grasp, and you knew they had their sights set on you. Their low, gargled moans sliced through the thick silence of the night, the sound of your death. You looked behind you once more and felt your stomach flip over. The horde of zombies from the cemetery were gaining on you. In less than a minute they would be on top of you. All hope vanished. You were surrounded.

Michael stood in front of you protectively, grabbing your hand again. His whole body was shaking. He faced the zombies approaching from the front, and you pressed your back against his, facing the zombies approaching from the back. You felt like you were just waiting to be devoured, frozen in fear like a mouse cornered by a cat, but you weren't going down without a fight.

"What do we do, Michael?!" No answer. Suddenly, he pulled away from you so that you could no longer feel him against you. You turned to face him. "Michael?"

The first thing you saw was his brown eyes. Those hadn't changed, but everything else about his appearance had. His beautiful eyes were sunken into deep, dark sockets, like diamonds glistening at the bottom of a well. His skin, once dark and smooth, now had a sickly greenish-yellow hue, the color of rotting flesh. His cheek bones were hollowed, his lips cracked, and his clothes tattered and dirty, like they had been aged one hundred years. He was one of them . . . a zombie.

You jumped back a couple feet in horror at the sight. The color drained from your face and your eyes burned with tears. Michael. Oh God . . . not Michael. You wanted to collapse on the spot, to sob and scream with hopelessness and terror, but you knew that was not an option. You had to survive. Michael would have wanted that. Well, the Michael you once knew. Now, zombie Michael was reaching out to grab you with a savage look in his eyes. You ducked quickly, evading his grasp. You frantically searched for an escape route, but the zombies had you cornered now, your back pressed against the chain link fence. Then, it hit you. The fence. You turned around and eyed the fence, debating whether you would be able to climb it. It was tall, but what other choice did you have?

You grabbed hold of the fence and scrambled up it as fast as you could, forcing your feet into the tiny spaces, but you weren't fast enough. The zombies were right on top of you now, and just when you thought you were out of their reach, you felt a hand grab your leg. You screamed and gripped the fence tighter. You looked over your shoulder and saw the zombie who held your foot. Then, you saw Michael in the crowd of the undead and felt a horrendous ache in your chest. It killed you to leave him behind, but it would kill you to stay. With one strong, swift motion, you yanked your leg free from the zombie's clutch. You kicked the thing square in the face, which bought you just enough time to climb up and over the fence.

You jumped from the top and landed hard on the opposite side of the fence. You wiped sweat from your brow, breathing rapidly, as you stood back and watched as the zombies stuck their arms through the holes in the fence, reaching out for you still. Upon seeing Michael again, you doubled over and sobbed for a moment. You couldn't believe what had happened. You couldn't believe he was gone, now a mindless monster forever. You stood there, safe but devastated, for a while . . . until you heard something that made your heart freeze with fear: the sound of metal snapping. The zombies were ripping holes in the fence. You never imagined they would be so strong. Immediately, you sprinted in the opposite direction.

You raced down street after street, but there was no one around. Not a single person. You looked over your shoulder and your heart dropped into your stomach. The zombies had broken through the fence, and they were chasing you, faster this time. You could see Michael at the front of the horde, and your heart broke at the sight. You squeezed your eyes shut and looked ahead of you once more. This was no time to be looking back. Survival had to be your main focus.

Suddenly, you had an idea and immediately took action. You veered to the right, running off the street, up the curb, across the sidewalk, and up the front stairs of a random house. You sprinted to the front door and banged your fist against it as hard as you could.

"Please, open the door!" you screamed frantically. Stealing another glance over your shoulders, you saw the zombies were getting close. "Is anyone in there?! Let me in!" you shrieked again, banging on the door. No answer. No sign of movement from within the house. In total panic, you grasped the doorknob with a sweaty hand and, to your shock and utter relief, it turned. The door was unlocked. Eagerly, you scrambled inside the house, slammed the door shut and locked the door behind you and proceeded to barricade it with any piece of furniture you could move.

The house was deserted, and after you finished blocking the door you couldn't help but wonder where every other person besides you and Michael had gone. Your time to think things through, however, was cut short by the sound of footsteps – heavy, dragging footsteps – climbing the front stairs of the house. Soon, the zombies were pounding on the door with terrifying force, and every hope you had was extinguished when you saw that the wooden door was beginning to crack.

You covered your tear-soaked face with your hands and backed into the living room of the house. Suddenly, the windows of the house began to shatter one by one, and as they did, the arms of zombies reached through them, longing to grab hold of you. With a crashing bang, the zombies broke through your door and your barricade of furniture. Screaming, you ran into the kitchen but froze immediately when you almost ran into another zombie. They were coming through the windows, breaking down doors all over the house. They were everywhere, and you had nowhere to run anymore. Back in the living room, you collapsed on the couch. Any ounce of optimism you had passed away, and you awaited your imminent death as the throng of the undead enveloped you, clutching at your clothes with bony fingers. The last thing you saw as you stared up at the mass of zombies was Michael, his brown, sparkling eyes, deep in their sockets. Then, suddenly, the world went black. The only sounds that pierced through the nothingness were the groans of the undead and your blood-curdling cries.

The next thing you knew, someone one was shaking your shoulders gently. You fought their hands away, whimpering and cowering in fear.

"(Y/n)!" someone called. "(Y/n)! It's okay!"

You snapped open your eyes. You were seated in a dimly lit, empty movie theater. Credits rolled on the screen while eerie music played in the background, announcing the end of Blood Moon. Michael was seated in the chair next to you, looking more than a little shocked and concerned. He wasn't a zombie; in fact, he looked totally normal and handsome as ever in his red and black V-jacket. His skin was not rotted or sickly in color, and his brown eyes were lively and not sunken in their sockets. Looking at his worried face, you realized you had only been dreaming. None of the terror you experienced had been real, just a nightmare. You breathed a sigh of relief.

"Are you okay?" Michael asked softly.

"What happened?" you asked, still a little disoriented.

"You fell asleep," Michael snickered.

"I fell asleep?" You couldn't believe you had slept through your first date with Michael. "I am so sorry, Michael. Why didn't you wake me up?"

Michael shrugged his shoulders and grinned. "I knew you were exhausted, so I let you sleep. Besides, it was kinda cute how you slept on my shoulder." He blushed a little and avoided your eyes. "Do you want me to bring you home so you can rest?"

"No," you answered firmly. "We're going to have a proper date, even if I collapse from exhaustion. Would you like to go somewhere for dinner? I'll pay."

Michael smiled and shook his head. "Really, (Y/n), you don't have to do that."

"I insist. Come on, let's get go," you said energetically, standing up from your seat. That was the end of that. Michael smiled and surrendered, following close behind you.

"If you say so," he said, but you knew he was looking forward to dinner with you. Once the two of you were outside the theater, Michael stretched his arms and legs and then looked up and down the street. "If I remember correctly, there's a great little restaurant just up the street. You wanna check it out?" Michael asked. You flinched at his words as a wave of déjà vu swept over you. You stared at him wide-eyed in shock.

Michael noticed your reaction and cocked an eyebrow. "What?"

You shook your head. You were being ridiculous. "Nothing. It was just strange that you said that. That's exactly what you asked me in the nightmare I had."

"Really?" Michael asked in disbelief. "Huh, that's crazy. And it must have been a crazy nightmare because you were terrified when you woke up. What was it about anyway?"

"It's a long story, but I'll tell you everything over dinner."

Michael chuckled. "I can't wait. So, do you want to check out that restaurant?"

"Yeah, of course!"

The two of you drove in Michael's car to the restaurant, and you kept your eye out for zombies the entire way there. The restaurant was a small but unique one, set up like an old 50's diner. There was a juke box playing all the classics, and vinyl records in mint condition decorated the walls, along with a lot of Coca-Cola memorabilia. As you took your seats at a red-upholstered booth, both of you looked around the room and pointed out your favorite records. Michael wasn't kidding when he said he loved music; he was familiar with every record hanging on the wall and every old tune that played on the jukebox. He tapped his feet to the rhythm and sang the lyrics softly under his breath. You just watched him with a huge smile on your face.

You both ordered your meals and some milkshakes too. Then, you began the story of your nightmare, a topic of conversation not really appropriate for dinner, but Michael wanted to hear the whole thing. You told him about how the two of you left the movie theater and were on your way to eat somewhere when you passed a cemetery and the dead rose to life, pushing their way through the muddy earth. Michael's jaw dropped when you told him how he became a zombie and chased you throughout the streets. "Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry," he said laughing, apologizing for the behavior of his zombie-self. He was on the edge of his seat as you told him how you took shelter in the house and how the zombies broke through the doors and windows and attacked you.

"That is the best dream I've ever heard!" Michael said enthusiastically when you concluded your story. "You could make that into a killer horror movie! You have a really creative mind!"

You blushed. "I wish it wasn't so creative. That nightmare was terrifying."

"Well," Michael said, thinking, "Scary is a good thing! And besides, a ton of creative people get their best ideas from their dreams. You could be a writer or director or something!"

You grinned bashfully. "You really think so?"

"Yeah!" Well, that made your night.

Once you were finished with dinner, Michael drove you home. He walked you up to your front door and the two of you said your goodbyes.

"I had a really great time tonight. Thank you for asking me to come with you."

"Trust me, it was my pleasure." He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "So, can I take you out again sometime?"

"Yes, as long as you don't turn into a zombie or a werewolf and try to attack me," you answered teasingly. Michael cracked up.

"I promise I'll be a perfect gentleman. After all," he smirked devilishly, striking a smooth, cool-guy pose, "'I'm not like other guys,'" he said suavely, quoting Blood Moon. You laughed hysterically at the reference.

"I know," you said, your voice adopting a softer and more serious tone. "I've always known you were different from other guys." The smirk disappeared from Michael's face and he looked at you in a surprised sort of wonder. Then he smiled from ear to ear, blushing furiously.

"And you're unlike any girl I've ever met," he replied. Your heart stopped for a moment as you felt his hands caress your hips and saw him lean in close. He placed his lips on yours, softly and gently, and you melted into his kiss, losing yourself in the warmth of his embrace. You never wanted this moment, this night, to end. It was a night you would cherish forever, a night you would never forget.

***

(Ending note: Your high school crush, Michael Jackson, became famous for the music he loved so much, and the two of you got married. When he broke world records with his hit "Thriller," he based the music video off of the dream you had on the night of your first date together. Whenever someone asked him how he got the inspiration for Thriller, he always credited you for creating the genius storyline.)