The Masked Magician
The young girl turned around at hearing her name called. Her chestnut locks swinging behind her as her head whipped about in a fashion reserved for those who were caught in the act of doing something wrong. In this case, the 16 year old Christine Daae was drawing too close to the old street beggar with a funny hat, and a peculiar little monkey.
Christine cast her large brown eyes to her feet as Madame Giry chastised her for straying from the group. It seemed to Christine, that when they went on outings, she always seemed to get into some type of trouble.
They walked on, towards the local park. Christine truly did not understand why they were out in such damp weather, and going to the park no less! Her skirts were getting muddy, but she honestly did not care. These little outings were her only thing to live for it seemed any more.
As Christine turned pitiful thoughts around in her head, she hardly noticed as the group of girls had stopped and were now watching intently as a man pulled a white rabbit from a top hat. The girls made noises of awe and wonder as the strange man did little tricks. Magic. That's what some of them whispered, but they quickly hushed themselves as a stern look from Madame Giry sent shivers down their spines.
Christine absent mindedly nibbled on her lower lip; she did not pay any attention to her peers around her, and certainly paid no mind to the tall dark figure before her. She failed to see his eyes locking on her as he transformed a girl's handkerchief into a white dove. But she did stop her pointless mind wanderings when the man addressed her.
"And what is your name, angel?" His voice was deep and velvety. It was short and to the point but it held a hidden quality to it, making one feel as if each word he spoke had a profound purpose.
A deep blush rose to her cheeks, and with out looking him in the face she stuttered, "C-Christ-tine."
"Ah well Christine, would you like to see a magic trick?"
"Yes!" she said breathlessly. And for the first time she looked into his face.
Christine was startled at what she found there. Instead of a whole face of a stranger, she was met with a blindingly white mask covering the right side of the man's face.
How strange, she thought, that a man would hide only half of his face. She did not ponder on the mask long, nor the chiseled beauty of his visible face.
The man was slightly bent forward, as to be on her level of sight. He pulled from his pocket an old crumpled looking piece of paper. It had what looked like tea stains on it, and smudges of ink here and there.
Silently, he opened the fragile paper. Christine strained her neck to better view the paper's contents. But there was no need, for he opened it fully and showed her and the small crowd behind her.
A beautiful drawing of a rose was sketched onto the vintage scrap. The bud was the purest red one could imagine and the stem lacked even a single thorn. Beautiful, she thought as she gazed at it.
"Would the fair lady like a rose such as this?" his velvet voice sang to her.
Christine nodded her head, completely in awe of this man. She looked up, her eyes locking with ice blue eyes. Her breath caught and she quickly looked away.
She heard the sound before she actually saw it: the horrid sound of paper being ripped to tiny pieces. A horrified look came upon Christine's face as she watched the masked man tear the paper into bits, and finally enclosing them all in his hand.
For reasons unknown to her, Christine felt a lone tear dance down her cheek. But as much as she wanted to walk away from the man who so easily destroyed something so beautiful, she could not take her eyes from his hands.
Christine watched as he brought his gloved hands to his mouth. She watched him in a puzzled fashion as he kissed the black leather prison holding the shredded paper. And her face lit up in complete astonishment as he opened his hands and nothing, not one small bit of paper lay in his hands.
A large, masculine hand reached behind her head and fumbled in her hair, finally coming forth with the deepest red of a rose the world had ever saw. Gasps could be heard all around her, but Christine ignored them, and simply stared at the rose.
It was the exact one she had saw only moments ago on a tattered scrap of paper. Except this one held a spell like charm. The rose suddenly moved towards her, and she realized that the masked man was giving it to her.
"For the fair lady" he said with a charming smile that made all the young girls' hearts flutter.
Christine placed a timid hand around the beautiful flower. She brought it immediately to her nose and inhaled. It smelled sweeter than any she had ever smelled before.
Looking up to thank the man, Christine as well as the rest of the small crowd gasped. He was gone.
Whispers and squeals broke out amongst the group. Where could he have gone? He was just there! How did he just disappear? Why couldn't he have given that rose to some one more deserving? All of these questions buzzed around her, but Christine stared at the spot where she had last saw him.
Madame Giry scolded the girls, and told them it was time to go back to the theater. Christine stayed a moment longer, still staring. Then she turned and followed her peers silently.
She glanced back only once more, to make sure he was really gone. She felt like she was supposed to feel sad, and missing something, but instead she was uplifted. Christie had a feeling that this was not the last time she would see the Masked Magician.
Finis
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Your humble author,
The Eloquent Quill