The performance came and went. Her minor character solo performance had resulted in a standing ovation that even delayed the continuance of the performance. The crowd refused to settle and allow the actors to continue performing for several minutes. Aya's heart thumped with excitement as the audience chanted her name, yet orderly. Her fellow friends in the cast motioned her to take the stage again for her ovation. She stepped back into the light and felt its warmth, as well as the sounds of the crowd's admiration. Aya looked up to the ceiling of the theater as if to give a silent prayer to God for the power to perform concerning recent events. Aya's eyes scanned across the ceiling, and saw the shape of a top left half of a face; white, staring down at her. Her eyes widened at the face; from the hairline to the cheekbone of the left eye, watching her from above the audience. When she made eye contact, she saw the lightly tanned skin behind the mask give a small, half-mouthed grin, almost one of approval. She blinked, and the face was gone. She didn't know what he was planning, or even thinking or even who the person was. All she knew, was that she is a pawn to him, in his chess game that he was setting into motion. She thought all this in an instant, as she was called offstage to continue the performance. She now became nervous.
Aya's hands were shaking. Did she imagine the face? Was she just letting her fears get the better of her? She decided to try and rationalize out her thoughts. She had a usual place in the theater in which she has gone to after each performance to unwind. She has gone under the stage, down the hall from the caved in section of their old home, to a small crevice between some rock slabs. There was a small room, where maybe two people could fit comfortably. There was a small window that looked over the town around the cliff-side that the opera house sat on. It was nighttime, and the lights were on in many houses, speckled across the town. It was so beautiful. Aya had gone here ever since she was a child. She used to sit here with Abilsin and count the lights as they came on, one by one, like little stars in the sky or like little fireflies. Franklin and Alam knew about the spot, since she'd be there many nights when she was younger, and they'd be searching for her late at night, to find her there. Even now, she uses the spot to think. No one ever went there anymore. She snuck away from the group as the play went on, and escaped to that space. Approaching the hole at the end of the hallway, she heard something whizz past her ear. Then a small clink as something fell to her feet. She saw the black envelope and immediately whipped around to see nothing. She was alone. Her heart began to race. He was here, so quietly, following her this whole time. He was watching her. She began to feel she was more than just a pawn, but a much bigger piece in his game. She calmed herself and picked up the envelope, crawled into her little hideaway and opened it, breaking the blood red wax skull from the back flap. Inside the note read as the others did, in white calligraphy.
Fine performance, Aya. You're better than they give you credit for. Your elegance seems to know no bounds. Even as a minor role, you turn heads. I'll continue to watch as you grow and perform… I know you won't disappoint.
Send my congratulations to your father on a performance well done. There shall be a gift waiting for him in his office with my best wishes.
You shall not be alone in the darkness tonight…
Aya was scared now. He was indeed watching her, and her father, and everyone. He was a ghost wandering the halls of this opera house. Aya soon felt the loneliness sink in. It was the first time she felt the sting from Alam and Abilsin's death. She was looked upon to be strong for the rest of the cast. If she publicly wept, as they tried to cover up what really happened, everyone would know the worst. She was forced to remain stoic, but inside it ate away at her. She curled up and wept for what felt like ages. Her knees bent up to her chin, tears streaming onto her knees and down her legs. She heard her father calling for her. She crawled out from her hideaway and held the note out to her father. He read it, then looked at Aya, confused.
"Seems he loved your performance… why are you crying?"
"I saw him…above the audience… during my ovation. He was watching me… with those cold eyes, that white face. He was here, when I was alone. I didn't see him but..—"
"HE WAS HERE?! HE MAY STILL BE AROUND. I'll call the police to search this whole place!"
"No, father! He knows the whole building He knew about my hideaway… Only you and I know that now. We're messing with someone far more dangerous than we are giving him credit for."
"But, Aya… This man needs to be stopped. He's taunted us enough…"
"He hasn't done anything yet... All he has said is words… Perhaps you should listen to them…"
"Fat chance! This is MY Opera house now, and no… ghost, is going to tell me how to run my Opera."
"Father! I beg of you, just indulge him in his requests… Perform what he wants… I fear this is only the beginning-"
"Which is why he needs to be stopped NOW!"
"What would you tell the police? We don't even have a face to go with the name… Only a mask description and these letters…"
Her father remained quiet as he began to pace, and his face slowly turned grim before speaking.
"I suppose you are right… We need to get a face to the name. You said he wears a mask…. Perhaps, if everyone is wearing masks, he'll appear in façade. We'll make all guests get a special mark upon their masks if they check in at the entrance. The ghost will have no mark, making him a walking target."
"That's brilliant father! It should be done."
"I'll make the preparations. For now, you should go and get some rest. Why don't you head home and I'll be there once the Opera is locked up." Her father kissed Aya's forehead and pushed Aya out of room, wishing her goodnight.
Franklin stopped and looked around the room, for the face that was haunting him and his daughter, along with his livelihood. Franklin then soon turned and headed out.
The post-performance clean-up and evacuating of all the various actors and actresses had been completed; the cleaning crew just had left. Franklin stepped onto the stage, in a sort of mental thought performance; pacing back and forth, turning on his heels with each dash walk across the stage. A light centered above where Franklin paced.
"I'm not afraid of him…A coward in not showing his face…" Franklin, then turned as a subtle click was heard. Franklin stopped in his tracks, as he was staring into a second spotlight, the light reflecting on a single object, a white mask, vague raised ridges to make a grotesque skull shape, focusing over one eye, the one Aya described. Franklin was spooked. He was here, glaring at him. He couldn't help as his breathing picked up and his nerves became jittery and he stepped backward in fear.
"Not afraid of me, hm…? Are you so sure you can run MY opera without me?"
"YOUR Opera? No… This Opera was made from the dreams of me and my friend, now deceased. I am not going to let some ghost, his killer or not, taunt me into losing the only thing Alam left behind. Do you hear me? I'll kill you myself if I must!"
The ghost chuckled, took a step closer, the spotlight moving forward in response, keeping only the piece of mask in clear light. Franklin took another step back.
"You're terrified of me. Even a blind man could see your….ill-fitting chest rising and falling beneath that flamboyant garb in panic. You are at my will, Franklin. Whether you know it or not, I'm everywhere…"
"You're a c-coward." Franklin just gave away any doubt of composure he may have facaded. A flash of white teeth appeared before the mask, as the head leaned back in laugh, revealing the lightly tanned skin of the mask wearer.
"Oh, that is rich… Franklin. Now, I have a few… requests… If you treasure your cast and….. dream," he spoke with a chuckle. " at all, you will listen to my commands. I'll require a payment, a salary, if you will." The mask turned to the side, walking towards Franklin's right right, the mask being followed by the spotlight. Franklin, turned to keep himself facing the ghost. "How is, $30,000 a month sound?"
"…WHAT?! That's preposterous! I'm not going to pay some black-wearing troll on how to run MY theater!" The mask stopped mid-step, and turned to face Franklin, its eye narrow and stern behind the mask.
"Franklin, I know how much this theater makes per performance. .. What I'm asking for… is pocket change. You WILL pay me. You WILL do as I say. This theater is mine… good sir. I hold the cards here. Also, I request that that box, behind me, up top, remains dark, at all times, for my personal use." Franklin merely grimaced at his request, seeing words had no effect anymore. "In addition, Aya, your daughter, is to play the lead in performances." Franklin didn't see a huge harm in this request, not from her recent performance. That was a choice he could go with. However, Franklin considered why the ghost focused on Aya. Was he after her?
"…Fine. I'll accept the – your – terms—"
"I'm not done…I also command you to tell your cast of the events that transpired below the theater, the murders… and notify them of my presence... in having to do with them. This is MY Theater, Franklin. It shall be run how I see fit. Whether you do so willingly… and safely, is your choice. My salary will be due in the morning as well as the news of my existence to your cast." Franklin knew panic was going to set in for the cast.
"You have my word… should you simply listen to my commands, your cast will not be harmed. Should you not… a tragedy shall await." Franklin only scowled, knowing he had no choice, but to go along with it and hope for the best and that his cast will stick with him. He still had the inkling that this man isn't dangerous in the slightest.
"I see you have decided. Goodnight, Franklin." The mask began to turn, before stopping. "Ah, I nearly forgot… Did you like my gift I left you?"
Franklin had not gone to his office yet, as Aya said he left something for him.
"I see… you haven't… Go, Franklin. Go see what gracious gift I offered you." The spotlight above him went out, leaving no noise, no image to follow. Franklin then darted from the stage to the office. He was a scared mouse, running from the cat he could not see. The cat whom was playing with him. He approached his office, the light was off. He flicked it on, scanned the room before seeing the signature black envelope on the center of his desk. He picked it up and broke the seal. Sliding the letter out, he read the letter. Speaking the similar comments as in Aya's letter and the same commands he asked for in person a moment ago. However, at the end was a P.S.
P.S. If you still contain any doubts of what just transpired on stage, any doubts of what I could do; See Attached.
Franklin reluctantly slid the object behind the letter to the top. Franklin was met face to face with a picture of Alam, lying on the floor, blood pooling from his stomach and chest, fire erupting around him. On his neck, there was a brand of a skull, blood trailing from the eyes and streaming down the neck. Franklin stared at the picture for a moment, sick to his stomach, dropping the picture on his desk and swiftly exiting after grabbing an empty envelope and a stack of cash from the safe. He rushed back towards the stage, and into the seats, looking back onto stage, tossing the envelope onto the stage, to see the mask hovering there, only the white part glowing through the blackness.
"Thank you, good Franklin. Nice doing… business with you. Until -" Franklin barged through the door, exiting the room.
"…Next time… Until the… Masquerade Ball." The glow of teeth was seen again, reflecting subtle trails of light as a small laugh echoed.
The envelope was scraped from the stage floor by black hands as the light went out, leaving the opera dark, and silent; an all seeing eye watching it from the darkness.