Hello readers; a huge thank you to my reviewers! They really do help and have given me much inspiration to continue writing. I am quite excited for this story, trying to explore different areas and a new place is surely to come. Our Opera Ghost will be appearing very soon... Please let me know what you think. :)

Enjoy!


The first few days were arduous, to say the least. The amount of work astounded Amelia, although she did not like to admit it. Nor did she say a word. She was instructed by one of the older maids to clean the seats of the main room, the mezzanine areas, every day. The task took a few hours; Amelia was then to wait until the end of each performance and do the work again, scrubbing for new stains and picking up any waste she could find.

During the day she was to mop the hallways of the boarding rooms and finish the lobby, all while trying not to offend anyone by her presence. It seemed that no matter how much she smiled toward the other women, they either ignored her or looked at her strangely. They did not talk to Amelia; most were jealous of her complexion, while others were just too busy to deal with a naïve and prim mademoiselle. Amelia wondered if she would make a friend at all.

She did her duties silently and without a complaint, however. She put on her simple maid's dress and pulled her waist-length hair into a tight bun every morning, ready to begin the day.

The other maids verbally complained throughout the days, keeping themselves entertained with discussing the newest gossip and handsome devotees of the Opera. Amelia did not mean to overhear, but the maids talked too loudly.

"I heard he's been spotted again! Around the upper hall! Oh, Marie says she saw him and it was like seein' into darkness."

"The Monsieur's don't believe a word of that nonsense. I don't either. I think Marie's been lookin' for trouble. She going to end with it, I tell ya! She's been slackin' too, you know. Leavin' early to talk to the ballet girls. Looking for trouble…"

The older maid shook her head.

"Anne, you keep being skeptical. The ghost could appear right before you, and perhaps you still won't believe it, hmm? Maybe with a noose around your neck you will!"

The younger maid's look of horror made her older friend burst into laughter. Amelia kept hearing these odd tales about a man who lurks in the shadows, occupying empty opera boxes and terrorizing the performers. Sometimes, when passing among the male performers and crew, she heard Joseph Buquet scaring the ballet girls, pretending to wear a piece of marble as a mask. He said the Ghost wore it to protect others from the gaping hole of Hell on his face. Or perhaps it was to cause even more fear into the hearts of the weak?

Weeks passed and Amelia did not see a thing. She did not go looking for 'trouble' either. She did her job meticulously and only took breaks to eat (or breathe). Around the second month, Amelia had enough savings to send a parcel to Mrs. Coellard, full of sweets for the children and a pretty scarlet colored hair pin for the orphanage owner she was able to find in town. She knew Mrs. Coellard would find it to her liking. Amelia kept in contact with her frequently through letters, and she was glad for the emotional support.

She realized the Opera house, although buzzing with activity and chaos, could get quite lonesome. At night, the shadows danced in her small room, creating landscapes and new places for her to invent in her mind. Amelia knew she was too old for these kinds of games, but she could not help it. They did indeed help.

When she tried dozing off into sleep, she would also remember the Opera stage, gazing at the structure as she cleaned the seats. The golden angels seemed to come to life with the flame of the grand chandelier, and she would imagine the little bits of the performances she was able to see from the back. They were more than beautiful, heaven-like in their ability to create new realms and characters. She caught herself imagining how it would be to be on stage, being an actress perhaps. Or a dancer!

Her two left feet disagreed.

She took care of the lobby, also. It would be constantly decorated with new flower arrangements; gorgeous roses, lavenders, and lilies adorned the main staircase every evening. Madam Giry once caught Amelia smelling the red lilies; she pretended not to see her, and walked away. She could not bring herself to interrupt the small maid.

The loud steps of the other boarders kept Amelia from having restful nights, however. She tried to tune them out, humming herself to sleep whenever she could. She would remember old lullabies Mrs. Coellard would sing to the children, soothing herself to sleep some nights. Other times she would stare at the candle on the drawer, following its dance.

The nights after performances were the worst; the endless parties continued until the late hours of the morning. Monsieur Firman and Andre would usually leave right after with a large party into town, drinking most of the champagne before stepping into their carriages. The crew members would stay and drink themselves, music playing on the less ostentatious instruments some owned. Others left early while others also went into the streets to find more merriment.

There were some nights Amelia knew she was alone, uselessly trying to put away the fear that built in the pit of her throat. She was not used to being so alone, although she thought she should be used to it by now.

It was a Friday evening; the second opening of "La Golondrina" had made another successful night at the Opera. La Carlotta had sung like she usually did, with the grace of a skipping elephant. Yet, people enjoyed her theatrics, and paid double for the unexpected fallings of logs or lights. The Opera Ghost had become infamous; some of the audience came just to see if he would appear. Horror sells quickly.

Tonight was no different than any other night: every seat in the theatre sold. The Monsieur's left with their boisterous party, while the crew decided to go off and celebrate themselves. They had put much work into this new play, and they knew they deserved a treat (which unfortunately the Monsieur's knew the crew deserved). With a little bit of a raise in their pay, the ballet girls and crew members were off to a night of entertaining pleasure.

Madam Giry and her daughter went home for the night, for Madam Giry did not believe in such shallow maneuvers of entertainment.

The Opera House was indeed empty.

Amelia was ordered by Anne, the young brunette maid with the sunken eyes, to remember to clean the seats and the stage. She knew it was usually her job to clean the stage also but the other maids were waiting outside for her and she could not stay and clean on such a magnificent night. Let the new maid take of it.

And so Amelia did take care of her job, mopping the entire stage and picking up the rubbish from the balconies and seats. It was not until around midnight that she had finished.

All she could think about walking back to the boarding house area was the hot water she could enjoy. She was accustomed to cold water, but she could not hear a peep coming from the halls. She would have enough water for a hot bath.

As she walked back into the lower hallway, she noticed a different shadow than the ones made by candles on the walls. She also heard drunken singing.

Jean, one of the smiths of the crew, appeared on the corner of the lower hallway, drinking from a half empty bottle of whiskey. The golden liquid swished in the container as he tried getting up from the wall.

"There you are! The new one, aren't ya? A pretty one toooo," he called out, his smile showing under a thick mustache. He must have been around thirty years of age.

A feeling of dread overcame Amelia. She was not very experienced with men, and she had barely been able to speak to anyone at the Opera house, let alone a man.

"G-good evening, Monsieur. Just going in for the night."

The man was blocking the way.

"Oh what fun is tha-? Come out of that room of yours, we know you hide there. Don't be shy, mademoiselle!"

He laughed heartily as his words slurred together.

Should I just walk away? That would be rude…yet, I do now know..I-

"What? Cat got that little tongue of yours? Come over, dearie, do a little turn! Let me see that little waist of yours…"

Amelia was left speechless as his hand grabbed her arm, pulling her towards him roughly. He had a tight hold of her dusty sleeve.

"Sir, please! I must g-"

"Oh, on a night like this? We'll have fun, my dear"

At this, Amelia started to panic, knowing this would not end well. She could smell the stench of alcohol on his breath, burning her nose. She decided to warn him one last time.

"Sir, let me go this instant. Or you will regret it."

She stood frozen in place, waiting for the drunken Jean to let go of his tight hold. Her beautiful face was now fierce in her resolute. Jean, however, burst out laughing and did the opposite, pulling her closer to him.

Everything happened too quickly for Jean to register; Amelia's left hand struck his hairy cheek, a strangely strong fist for such a small young woman. The man tumbled backwards and fell to the stone floor, too drunk to get up from the hit. He seemed unconscious, as Amelia realized what she had done. She had not meant to hit him that firm, a slap possibly, yet fear took over at the last second.

She did not know what else to do but run. Amelia ran quickly to the bathhouse, locking herself in one of the more closed off baths. She splashed water on her face, trying to bring color back into her cheeks.

Oh, what have I done? He will surely remember…and he probably will tell Madam or perhaps the Monsieur's… Oh heavens…

Her heart was beating madly. This was the first time a man had touched her, and perhaps she had overacted… What did you do in situations like this?

Her thoughts ran rapidly as she looked down at her sleeve. Jean had torn the dark sleeve from her shoulder, a large tear showing her olive-toned collarbone. Amelia felt tears accumulate on the corners of her eyes, but she shook them away.

She would have to go into town for a seamstress, or perhaps try and fix it herself. She did not have many dresses, and bothering Madam Giry was not on Amelia's to do list.

She stayed in the warm bath only for a little while, not wanting to be alone for too long. Walking briskly into the maid's hallway with her nightgown on, she heard silence from the usual corridors. She hurriedly locked herself in her room for the night.

Her exhausted body found her small bed a blissful comfort after such a long day. She let her hair down, a dark cascade of curls falling down her back. Amelia's eyes caught the candle once again, a habit.

There was something dark on the corner of the drawer; her eyes instantly fell onto the object with curiosity. She slowly lifted herself from the bed, walking a few steps to the wooden furnishing.

A crisp new maid's uniform lay neatly folded, a fresh scarlet lily gracefully placed on top.


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