We're dancing on hard marble floors, in a beautiful ballroom whose lights are reflected on the tiles below us. I am counting numbers in my head-my top nervous habit- but for once, I'm not nervous or anxious. I look up into my partners face; I can't see much, though, because everyone is wearing a mask here. As we swirl and turn to a soft violin concerto, I find myself growing sleepier and sleepier and, still, I am wishing with all my mite that this will never end.

Suddenly, the lights become too bright; the music too loud. All the masked faces around me become twisted and cruel and the dancing has stopped. They all shout ugly things; "You! You don't belong here! "Get out!" they cry. I find myself alone, backed against a corner. I'm so very frightened, but I can't seem to move. All around me, the masked faces are closing in on me…

And through it all, I can just make out the hand of my former dance partner, reaching out to me; my savior…

"Get up! My god, Clarke, you're going to make us late. Again!"

I sat up in my warm cot, everything around me looking blurry. Then again, it always does that. I grope for my glasses on the side table and put them on to find that Antoinette and the rest of the girls were already headed to rehearsal, sleep only beginning to relinquish their minds. I lept out of bed and silently pray that Antoinette will decided to wake me on time one of these days. I was miserable back then.

I had no real desire to come and play here, let alone live in the dorms. But my Aunt and Uncle didn't have any room left for me at their mansion, or so they told me. What they really meant was that they didn't want an orphan like me hanging around their life; Mother had never been close to her sister. I hated Paris, and longed for the quiet little town that I had left behind in the south of France. I also longed for my parents who had died four years previous in a fire which also took our lovely home with it.

"Stop sulking! Clarke, you're doing it again!" I scolded myself as I pulled on a hand-me-down dress that had belonged to my Mother. Sometimes it was hard to avoid skulking about, but truly I hated that feeling. I scurried down the many steps of the back staircase like we girls were told to and took my place on the side of the stage. I got out the Madame Giry's clarinet and began to put it together, thankful that I only had one short piece to play today.

"People! Quiet down, please," Monsieur Phillipe shouted over the many voices of eager young people and older, less eager backstage workers. He tapped his conductor's wand impatiently on the top of his stand.

"Just the wood winds for now please. Measure twenty three, and take the second ending for now," he announced. I brought my instrument to my face and he started the piece. Nice enough, but dull for the clarinets. This was good, however; I was too tired to master anything too difficult right now.

After a rather short practice, I headed back to the costume room. On the side, I helped mend some of the costumes and outfits, if only because it was my favorite part of the opera experience. I loved to sew and stitch and to examine all the brightly colored outfits. I had been happily situated at a long work bench, alone save for three older women, when I heard someone calling my name.

"Someone is here to see a Miss Clarke Daae, I believe," said a young man from backstage as he stuck his head into the back room. I put down my work, only to discover my elder sister waiting for me in the lobby.

"Oh! Clarke!" she squealed, hugging me lovingly.

"Lizzy. Good afternoon, Monsieur Brie," I told the happy couple.

"Ah, Clarke, I told you to call me Louis. Or just brother," my sister's husband said pleasantly. I took a step back to admire Lizzy's beautiful clothes, some of which she sewed herself.

Lizzy and her husband, Louis, were the too dearest people to me in the world. After our parents passed away, they offered to let me live with them, but I didn't want to trouble them as they had only just married.

"Well. Christine," my sister said in a serious tone, "I actually came here to give you this. It was mother's, but I just recently found it in one of her old letters that I was keeping for her,"

In her gloved hand, she held a beautiful gold locket with a picture of my parents in it. A rose had been lovingly sculpted onto the top of the lid, and a gold chain was attached to it's top.

"It's beautiful, Lizzy. Thank you so much," I told her, embracing once more.

"Excuse me, but no visitors without a pass," an older gentleman from the office curtly informed us. Louis snorted at the man's rudeness as Lizzy and I exchange a heartfelt goodbye.

"I'm not sure when I'll see you again, but, know that I love you," she whispered into my ear. We said farewell and I watched them leave, arm in arm, through the encompassing front doors of the opera.

I studied the locket again; so beautiful, so precious…Just like my old life had been…

--------

Thank you, and please review! Help me improve! Adieu,- Volitaire