Chapter 2 - a forgotten mask?

“Is something the matter, Meg? Have I said something wrong?”

I stare at her in awkward silence, completely aghast.

“Surely you jest Ebony… You must have mistaken the costume,” I say in a hushed tone, going to my knees in search of my dropped ring.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, “Is everything alright?” She looks at me worriedly, frightened of making a mistake. So eager to please.

“Yes I’m fine, but what I want to know is, are you fine?”

“Well of course. A bit sore from dancing, but nothing terrible,” a blush covers her pale face.

“Ebony… Did the man say anything strange to you?” I ask. She looks down, like she’s searching for the right words.

“No, nothing.”

I hardly believe her, but I don’t wish to press the topic any further.

“Good. Well I don’t know about you, but I’m exhausted,” I yawn dramatically. A small smile plays on her lips. I peel of my velvety gloves, folding them neatly upon my lap.

“It is rather late, is it not?”

“Yes, would you give me a moment Ebony? I should like to get out of this gown,”
“Yes, yes of course,”

“I’ll be right back,” I say as I walk to the dressing room.

Surprisingly this dress comes off with ease, unlike most dresses. I slip into my nightdress and tie my hair into a loose braid. I stand before the mirror, gazing into my reflection. Same blonde hair. Same brown eyes. Same small thin stature. Little Meg Giry, the girl who always looks the same.

After the opera house reopened, only Maman and I returned. My fellow peers had found a new life, perhaps even a better life. Of course dancing is my life, and I’ve made an oath to practice this art so diligently that one day I shall become a great prima ballerina. Yet I can’t help but wonder if even then people will still look at me as Little Meg.

I button the last of the little white buttons firmly and return to the beds. When I come back I find Ebony heavy with sleep, with…a rose in her hand?

Quietly I blow out the candle on the nightstand. The room filled with its smoky perfume.

I lay awake my face nestled in the cool pillow. My eyes plead for rest, but my pounding frightened heart simply shall not allow it! He’s alive! He’s alive!

The memories I’ve tried hard to forget come and knock on the front door of my mind. I remember how I had lost my home, but how pleased I was for a new beginning to the Opera House. Maman and I had waited 3 painfully long years, but now the world seemed a shade or so brighter.

But Ebony… Poor creature doesn’t even realize she’s danced with a madman! Perhaps it is true that maybe it wasn’t him. It could be a poser. Just a simple jest created from a poor taste in humor. Certainly the Phantom perished as the Opera House did.

Or perhaps he is alive and shall have vengeance upon us all! How foolish I was to steal his mask. That beautiful piece of snowy porcelain was much too curious an item not to take. Temptation had gotten the better of me!

Now he probably wants it back!

I remember as a child the stories of the Opera Ghost had always thrilled and frightened me. How the smallest of creaks in the hallway or the unexplained noises had drained our faces of color.

I lie in the itchy sheets feeling my heart thump hard in my throat. Sleep shall not come tonight for I am much too worried of things I ought not to be.

“Ebony,” I whisper to the thick darkness. Only silence answers me. The pitch-blackness of the room feels like it’s throbbing and swelling. I fear it shall swallow me whole!

“Ebony, are you awake?” I retry, longing for the comfort to know that she is awake if something dreadful should happen. Nothing.

A sharp stripe of moonlight dimly illuminates the dormitories. I quietly crawl out of my bed and grab a small chest from beneath it. Inside of it lies the stolen mask. I began to list the possible ways of returning it. Something inside me wants to know if he’s really still alive.

I knew the route. I could go. Sudden heat painted itself on my face. I couldn’t go alone of course! Yet this curiosity would certainly eat me alive!

Yet it would quite impossible. Even after the construction, that dressing room had been boarded up. Apparently the door to his realm was bricked up. Closed off, so that hopefully the legends of the Opera Ghost would just die out. Well they wouldn’t for this ballerina.

“I could break the boards maybe, but the bricks might pose a problem,” I mutter to myself.

“Meg?” Ebony yawns, “Who are you talking to?”

“What! Oh nothing. I wasn’t talking,” I laugh halfheartedly. She gazes down at the white mask in my trembling hands. I quickly hide it from her view seeing the inquisitive stare in her eyes.

“What were doing with that?”

“Absolutely nothing!” I push the chest back in its place beneath my bed. “I… I’m going to go for a walk.”

“In the middle of the night?”

“Yes, it’s really the best time for a walk!”

“If you say so… I’m going back to sleep,”

I walk cautiously through the darkened hallways. A single candle as my only light.

The cold air wraps its freezing blanket around my shivering body and exposed hands. I fear my candle shall soon burn out.

What am I doing? What am I doing? I try to shut the noise off in my mind, but the worried side of me begins to take over. My feet glide on the floor. Small steady and quick little steps.

Where is everyone? Surely not everybody is asleep. I creep down the corridor. I have the worst sensation of being followed.

Frequently I find myself turning my head around or speeding my pace. I walk with one side of my body touching the wall. Strange shadows play in the little spot of light.

I swear I hear breathing that is not my own. I’m sure I’m being followed. This was probably a bad idea, but it could be just a stagehand. I’m near the theater’s entrance. There’s probably some small after party in session. Yet the little hairs on the back of my neck stand stick straight.

“Is…Is anyone there?” I whisper. My eyes look back in the almost complete blackness. I hold my candle up.

A figure! There is a figure coming towards me! I gasp and start to hurry to the theater’s entry.

“Wait! Meg!” I hear my name and turn around. I know that voice, “Meg, hold on!”

I know that voice. “Monsieur Bellamount? Goodness you gave me a fright! What are you doing here?” I ask nervously. How embarrassing!

“Why Meg- I own this place. It’s I who should be asking you!”

“Oh I’m terribly sorry! I just…needed a walk,”

“Well don’t apologize, it’s quite alright by me,” he smiles, “Though I think you ought to be getting your rest. Shall I walk you back to the dormitories?” My face instantly flushes.

“No!” I say at once. He looks at me oddly, “I mean…I’ll just be on my way! No need to trouble yourself, Monsieur Bellamount,”

“Formalities are useless, Meg. Call me Jacque. Please,” he says in a velvety voice.

“Then goodnight… Jacque,” I grin.

“Goodnight Meg,” he takes my ice-cold hand, brushing his lips gently upon it. With that he leaves. What a curious man!

I make my way back to the sleeping quarters, the bubbly sensation lingering in the atmosphere.

I suppose I’ll have to wait for another night to find entrance to the old dressing room.

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