Chapter One
As she sits there, Madame Giry wonders to herself. "Those silly girls, they still can't do a correct arabesque. Hopeless…" she sighs. She gazes at her reflection in the dusty mirror. She runs her delicate fingers along the frame. What had happened to that once youthful Antoinette? Madame Giry stares at her somewhat aged face. She remembers the lights shining on her when she steps from the curtains. The audience watching her as she leaps gracefully across the stage. The applause at the end, making her smile beam. Madame Giry frowns at her image, pale in the dim light. She rises from her chair and walks silently to her wardrobe. Even in the darkness she can find it, she knows exactly where it is. Madame Giry's hand emerges from the wardrobe, clutching a rose. She tugs at the black ribbon. She sighs and places it back in her wardrobe. She takes a few steps toward her bed and reaches for her hairbrush. She carefully removes the pins that were holding her hair in a tight arrangement. She lets her golden brown locks fall down, surrounding her delicate face. She hastily brushes her hair and replaces her braid. She sets down the brush and blows out the thick white candle, nearly burned out. She places her head softly on her pillow, pulls the blanket up to her waist, and drifts off to sleep. A few hours later, she feels her eyes open. She moves to the bottom of her bed and sits at the edge motionless. She glances around the room, while pulling on her shawl. Her eyes fall on her vanity, the rose. The rose is lying be the mirror. "Not where I left you…" Madame Giry's voice trails off. She walks to the vanity, her robe billowing at her sides. She carefully picks up the rose and stares blankly at it. "Something is different." She says quietly. She opens the door of her wardrobe and goes to replace the rose, but instead she finds her rose at the top. She glances from one rose to the other, and feels her face twist up slightly in confusion. She feels warmth behind her, like breath on her shoulder. She whisks herself around. She feels herself frozen in her tracks. Even in the pitch-black darkness she knows exactly who it is. She gasps slightly as both roses fall to the ground.