The street lamps lined the road giving an eerie feeling to Kaylen's midnight stroll. As she neared the place which had become her home she pulled her cloak more tightly around her. The opera house loomed up ominously in front of her and while the hundreds of statues that ornamented the grand building seemed welcoming in the day, they seemed to serve a darker master at night, watching her enter their building with cold stone eyes.
Her shoes made a slight clicking noise as she made her way to her dressing room, and her home in the opera. She had come here a few months ago hoping to find work at the opera. She had no real talent to speak of, or so she thought, and so she had come to apply merely as a cleaning women and hoping to rent one of the less expensive apartments in the worse part of town. But as always with her life things did not go as she had planned. She gave a slight smile as she realized that maybe her plans being spoiled had been a good thing this time.
She had come here after her last living relative had died in her hometown leaving her alone to fend for herself. She had no desire to stay in that town for even though it was her place of birth, It held all the bad memories of slowly watching everyone she loved leave her. She didn't know why she had chosen Paris, she knew only that it seemed to be calling her, beckoning her to travel its dark streets and sample its great sights.
Of course, she secured the cleaning job with surprising ease, so much so that she had thought for one moment that an angel had been watching over her, for without that job she had had no idea where she would go next to find a place to earn income. She had quickly dismissed the idea, though, thinking it silly to believe in such foolishness as angels. No one watched over her except herself. No one would think she was worth watching over.
She attacked her work with a fury that none had ever seen before, considering herself lucky to have found such a great position in one of the most famous buildings in Paris. She felt as if even though she was merely a cleaning lady she was part of something much bigger. As if the better she cleaned anything the more chance it had of catching a patron's eye and adding just a little to their enjoyment. She would often stay well after her fellow workers had retired to add that extra sparkle to one banister or another before finally returning to her small apartment in the bad part of town.
It was while she was on one such cleaning spree when she had met Madame Smith. "My dear if you scrub that banister anymore you might polish right through it." she had said with a laugh coming up behind her and offering her hand for a friendly hand shake. Madame smith had come from the United States on one of those soul searching journeys that people like her were apt to take. Upon arriving in Paris she had finally settled down and become the head seamstress for the Opera Populaire.
Kaylen liked her immediately, how could one not like such a cheery lady as Madame Smith. Upon noticing her dress, Madame Smith exclaimed, " My dear Kaylen, you must tell me where you get your clothes, that dress beautiful." Kaylen looked down at her dress she used for cleaning. It was plain for the purpose of cleaning, plain but not ugly and kept clean despite her messy job. Her mother had always told her that you could be the lowest beggar on the street or the wealthiest man in Europe but you weren't anything unless you took pride in your appearance."
Thank you Madame. I am pleased that you like it. I made it myself." Moving all the way to Paris had left her with little money to spend on luxuries such as new clothes.
Madame Smith stepped back so she could see the dress as a whole and examine it with her expert eyes. "Madame, this is exquisite work. Perfect stitching no lose threads. Have you ever considered becoming a seamstress. You could go very far."
"I had never really thought about it before. Do you really think I have a chance?"
"I think you would excel and it just so happens that I am in need of an assistant. It pays much better than cleaning and offers more benefits. If you would like I could request that you be hired in the costume department."
"I would like that very much."
"Good I'll put in a word to the managers tomorrow. Good day Kaylen."
"Good day Madame Smith."
"Please my name is Birdy."
"Oh, good day Birdy and thank you."
After that she had become Birdy's apprentice and an usherette as a side job to earn more money. Also she moved into the opera house next to Birdy, who explained that as her apprentice she would be working late nights trying to meet deadlines for the costumes, and with hundreds of perfectly good rooms here there was no reason for her to travel those dangerous streets alone late at night to reach her small apartment. Kaylen had agreed and moved in to the apartment next to Birdy.
As she walked toward her room she felt an eerie presence as if she was being followed. She quickened her steps glancing behind her for her unseen pursuer. She did not slow when she saw that no one was behind her. Instead she quickened her steps slowing only when she entered her room.
She leaned against her door after closing it behind her hoping that somehow if there was someone after her she could use her small wisp of a body to barricade the door. After a while when nobody tried to come in and brutally murder with a butcher's knife as she had imagined she sighed and began to relax.
'What is wrong with you Kaylen.' she thought inwardly angry at herself for being so afraid of nothing. Her lips curled in a small smile as a new thought occurred to her. ' You must be getting paranoid living in this old building what with the phantom walking about and all.'
Her new friend Meg Giry had told her about the phantom and put all these thoughts into her head. She was to blame. Kaylen had met Meg, whom everybody called lovingly "little Meg" upon first entering the Opera house. She had been in a hurry not wanting to miss her opportunity in getting a job at the opera. As usual she had not been looking where she was going and had literally bumped into Meg who just happened to be carrying a large stack of sheet music.
"I'm so sorry." Kaylen said as she attempted to help Meg gather the sheets before the cold Paris wind could scatter them.
"That's alright" Meg said with a friendly smile, " anything that will keep me from ballet practice for a few extra moments I gladly welcome. " when she saw Kaylen's confused look she added " If you ever had to sit through one of those dreadful lessons you would understand. Any moment spared from them is a moment to be treasured." They sat on the steps for a while organizing the sheets and laughing at Megs little Quip. They had been good friends ever since even more so now that she lived at the Opera.
She sighed again 'that explains it then. Its just those ideas Megs been putting in your head.'
Meg seemed to be the authority on the phantom, ever ready to regale the entire chorus and anybody else who was willing to listen for that matter, with bone chilling tales of the phantoms latest crimes.
Of course it was all rubbish as Kaylen's other friend, Ashley, had pointed out. Ashley was not normally the sensible type being an aspiring singer/actress and therefore rather offbeat at times, but she had made it perfectly clear that she did not belief a word of what Meg had been saying. Kaylen liked Ashley's attitude towards Megs stories. It wasn't good to fill ones head with silly stories when there was a job to be done, and anyway it was just childish.
She let out a deep sigh and moved towards her closet donning a silk night gown, a gift from Ashley and Meg when they had realized how little clothes Kaylen had. She stopped in front of her mirror admiring her reflection as she often did. She wasn't vain, on the contrary she hated seeing her reflection in the mirror. She wasn't exactly ugly but she definitely wasn't pretty either. Just plain, terribly plain. To plain for most anybody to notice.
It was just that mirrors held a kind of magic. It was just amazing to her that her image could be captured and so precisely reflected back to her. She pulled her mid-back length hair into a braid and crossed the room toward her night stand. She gingerly picked up her most prized possession, a glass rose figurine her mother had left her before she died, and gently ran her fingers along the petals mouthing a silent prayer, as was her routine every night. Finally she laid the arlume back on the night stand and went to bed.