Chapter 1 - a dance with red death

PLEASE READ THIS : D !!!!!

Hi!! This is my first story so your feedback would be wonderful! I’m so sorry but I really don’t know any French at all so please if you find any mistakes tell me! This is a post-disaster story, but Ebony wasn’t a ballerina in the dormitories beforehand. She’s sort of new I guess, but she was there on the night of the disaster. Lastly and most importantly Erik’s intentions were not of attraction, but an entirely different matter that will come up later in the story. That’s all I can tell you right now!! Thanks for reading this it means a lot to me:D Enjoy! Oh and I don’t own the Phantom of the Opera!! OO P.S. my goal for this story is to make sure Ebony isn’t or doesn’t turn into a Mary Sue!!! Thanks again:D

Chapter One

A Dance with Red Death and a Rather Red Rose

There were buffoons, there were improvisatori, there were ballet-dancers, there were musicians, there was Beauty, there was wine. All these and security were within. Without was the "Red Death." Edgar Allan Poe, The Masque of the Red Death

This is so awkward! What am I doing here? I bite my gloved fingers nervously. Henri’s desperate eyes follow me as I slip away from the crowd. His blonde snow hair slicked to its finest and normally grubby face is squeaky clean. Those sad puppy dog eyes pleading me to dance with him. I feel guilty, but I must be on my way!

Tension runs down my spine as the music plays and blissful couples dance merrily together.Agony shoots down my legs. My hands fly about trying to find something to grasp anything for support. I look up at the laughing faces. The colorful dresses dotted in the grand hall swirl in my vision like dancing flowers.

Nobody seems to even notice me, as I back up slowly to the fringe of the Grand Masquerade Ball. My mind whirls round and round. I don’t know any of these people! Where’s Meg? I’m lost in sea of masked faces!

I search for the exit door as I walk at the brim of the party. Music swims through the air, poking my ears in every corner. Sweat is painted on my face as I inch towards the way out. Before I can take another torturous stride a firm grip pulls my wrist back.

“Let go!” I gasp, whipping my body around. My gaze falls upon two piercing emerald eyes beneath a skull shaped mask.

“Mademoiselle, surely you’d entertain me with one dance,” he says in more of a command then a request. He wears a crimson coat embedded with golden designs around the cuffs of his sleeves with an ominous sword lingering at his side. A sword!

“I really must be going!” I cry, trying to tug myself free of his grasp. Shut your eyes and count to ten. Pain drills my legs worse then before. I feel my bandages loosening beneath the layers of my dress. It is too late though. This bizarre stranger leads me towards the center of the dance floor as I clumsily trip over my feet in pursuit to follow. I gaze at his face once more. Though the top half of his face is covered I see he’s remarkably handsome from his well-shaped chin and smirking lips. It all seems quite familiar somehow…

“Who are you? Have I met you before?” I ask. I bite my lip trying to ignore my screaming limbs.

“It’s a secret,” he replies cryptically, his emerald eyes sparkle in the dim light. I hold my breath as a crimson blush covers my pale face. I must look like an overripe cherry! “This is your first masquerade I take it, Mme. Valette.”

Oh! How does he know my name? “Well yes,” I cough trying to avoid his eyes. Those eyes that read me like I’m a book…

He grins for a split second, flashing perfect pearls. His hands feel tense and strong over mine, which shake uneasily. When will this godforsaken dance be over?

My feet ache as they falter about the marble floor. I spin, and turn, and twist with as much grace as an elephant. I hear the music start to slow. Please, please, please!

“Please tell me who you are! I simply must know,” I try again, but I fail to pay attention to my feet posture and succeed on stepping on his booted foot. This is rather embarrassing, as I’m making an utter fool of myself!

“That defeats the purpose of the masquerade all together. The idea is that appearances deceive,” he smiles grimly ignoring my small faults.

“I’m sure that’s not true,” Breathe. Twist, draw out, and pay attention to your feet.

“Oh but it is, more so then you know. Sometimes appearances can even be deadly,”

Deadly? My face flushes as I take another cautious look at the sword he’s carrying at his side. Twist, turn, swirl, and move left, left, right.

“I do not understand,” I gasp for air. Sweat pours down my neck like droplets of liquid ice. My knees shake awkwardly.

“You will. In time,” he smiles. His emerald eyes hold an untold secret. “You know that boy over there has been watching us,”

I look over to see Henri starring appalled at me. “Don’t mind him,” I sigh. From beneath my thick dress I can feel my legs just at the brink of giving out.

“It seems he’s taken a liking to you. Pity,” Huff, Huff, Huff.

“Excuse me?” I gasp, confused at the man’s words.

“All in good time,” he grins, but the grin falls and his eyes change. He looks at me like he’s trying to figure something out.

That’s when my limbs finally give up. I twist on my toes and find myself collapsed on the cold marble floor. I hear murmured whispers and sense eyes pinned on my pathetic form. Great… Make a scene of yourself.

“Thank you, Ebony,” pure beauty tickles my ears. I whip my head around to find the source. Nothing. I fall to the floor, catching my breath. A woman dressed like a peacock helps me up. I mutter an inaudible thank you.

“Monsieur?” I whisper dumbfounded. He’s gone. Whoever he was…

As I return to the dormitories my eyes cast a gaze at the wall mirror. Lines of exhaustion run beneath my lower eyelashes, my façade a more ashen hue then the moonlight. I peel off my gloves and untie the loose bun that is nestled limply in the back of my head.

“Oof” I cry carefully ripping the too-tight shoes from my throbbing feet. The bandages are practically off my legs revealing the twisted charred skin beneath. I look away in disgust, grabbing an ointment bottle from my small nightstand. I can almost feel the flames licking my skin once more. Shall the nightmares of that wretched night ever cease to haunt me?

Applying the balm delicately I reach under the mattress to grab the roll of gauze. I pull my legs onto the petite bed. Unfurling the white linen I wrap it firmly over and over until it is tight enough that it will serve its purpose. As I shove the remaining gauze beneath the mattress I hear a soft crushing sound ringing quietly in the silence.

“What on earth?” I say, jerking my legs aside, “A rose?” My fingers grasp the tiny flower as my nose relishes the sweet perfume it sprays into the air. “Who could this be from?” I ask bewildered, searching the covers for a note of some sort.

The tint is a flawless fresh scarlet. I can’t help but think of the mysterious man’s crimson red costume. The untold secrets held firmly in those emerald eyes…

What could this rose possibly mean?

“Ebony!” Meg smiles, rushing over to sit next to me. I gasp quickly in surprise dropping the bottle of ointment in an open drawer and shooting my legs into the blankets before Meg can see.

Her golden tresses bounce merrily, eyes glittering with delight. I hide the little flower beneath my pillow. All my little secrets are safe and sound.

“Are you quite alright Ebony? You look dreadful,” she asks, her chestnut eyes filled with concern.

“Just dandy,” I smile.

“You’re not going home with your family tonight are you?” Of course all the ballerina girls from the dormitories have gone home with their families or lovers tonight. Only Meg and I remain.

“And leave all alone? Certainly not,” I tell her reassuringly. Besides, what family do I have to come home with?

“What a relief!” she laughs, plucking stray bobby pins from her hair. “Where were you tonight? I was looking for you!” Meg slides a sterling silver ring from her slim finger, twirling it round and round.

“I…I’m not sure. It’s quite complicated,” I try not to think of my humiliating tumble.

“You’ll never guess what happened!” Meg exclaims, a mischievous grin plays on her lips.

“What happened?” I laugh. Meg always is informed of the latest and greatest gossip hovering about the Opera Populaire.

“You know the handsome new manager, Monsieur Bellamount? He asked me to dance, and to call him by his first name!” she giggles, her mahogany eyes lighting up.

“How forward of him!”

“Jacque,” she sighs dreamily, “How was your first masquerade Ebony? Did anyone ask you dance? Oh I know! It was Henri was it not? He fancies you!”

“Goodness no!” I gasp, “I had a most frightful experience!”

“Do tell,” she giggles awaiting my horrendous story.

“Meg! You must not jest, I was truly embarrassed!” She stifles a laugh and fakes a serious face.

“Alright, alright I shan’t laugh at you. But you simply must tell me everything! Who did you dance with?”

“I’m…I’m not entirely sure,”

“You didn’t ask?” she asks kneading the ring between her hands.

“Believe me I did, but he refused to tell me!”

“Well what was he dressed as?” the ring rotates on her nails.

“To be perfectly honest… I believe he was dressed as Red Death,”

Clunk. The sterling ring drops to the floor.

You are not authorized to comment here. Your must be registered and logged in to comment