Chapter 3
The Globe theatre, 9:00
It was 1 minute to curtain call and the star was getting ready. Her name was Patricia McLean. She faced her reflection in the mirror, brushing her long red, curly hair, putting on her white cover up. Although she didn't need much, her face was practically white. She stood looking in the mirror, mostly at her own beauty. She turned away suddenly, and flopped into her own arm chair. She picked up her silk ballet shoes, for she was a ballerina, One of the most talented that is, and started to tie the laces up to her knee.
A knock on the door almost sent her flying out of her skin. Thinking it was one of her staff, she unknowingly invited the person in. This would be her worst mistake. The door opened, slowly at first. The creaking door opened more and more. Inch by inch, step by step. She could hear the steps get closer and closer." Who, who's there." she asked with a quiver in her Irish ascent. The door stopped opening, dead in its tracks. The shadow of a person, possibly a man could be seen, just standing there.
"Scott, Scott. Is that you? O.k., O.k. you win now. I'm scared,' she whispered with fear,' Come on now. Stop playing around. 'Scott.... please say its you.' she thought in terror.
Silence filled the room. She stood, ballet slippers clutched in her hands, breath deep and heavy. She backed away from the door, knowing that it couldn't be Scott. Remembering what she said before, found it very foolish of her to say she was scared. She backed up until she was up against the wall, no where else to go.
"please go away, please,' she thought to her self.
The door started to open again, only this time it didn't open slowly, it crashed against the wall. Smashing, and splintering the wood. The door leaned croaked on the remaining hinge, as though the door was kicked in.
The shock and terror pulled her to the ground, unable to move. She just sat motionless, to frightened to even breath. For they're in front of her was a black figure. she couldn't quite make out the face but the only thing she was sure about, the only thing she could see, was blonde hair. The man had blonde hair.
" I always like them to be frightened, it gives them flavor," he whispered to her with a grin. His face changed and contoured.
All she could remember was the speed and grace of the man moving towards her, then her own blood in a pool around her.
The man knelt before the body of the dancer and whipped the blood from his mouth. He Looked down at her, with a satisfying grin and got up. He gave the girl a nice peck on the check, walked into the shadows and picked up a ticket from the dresser.
"That should do me for the night,' he proclaimed,' but I might get a little peckish."
The Globe theatre, 9:00
It was 1 minute to curtain call and the star was getting ready. Her name was Patricia McLean. She faced her reflection in the mirror, brushing her long red, curly hair, putting on her white cover up. Although she didn't need much, her face was practically white. She stood looking in the mirror, mostly at her own beauty. She turned away suddenly, and flopped into her own arm chair. She picked up her silk ballet shoes, for she was a ballerina, One of the most talented that is, and started to tie the laces up to her knee.
A knock on the door almost sent her flying out of her skin. Thinking it was one of her staff, she unknowingly invited the person in. This would be her worst mistake. The door opened, slowly at first. The creaking door opened more and more. Inch by inch, step by step. She could hear the steps get closer and closer." Who, who's there." she asked with a quiver in her Irish ascent. The door stopped opening, dead in its tracks. The shadow of a person, possibly a man could be seen, just standing there.
"Scott, Scott. Is that you? O.k., O.k. you win now. I'm scared,' she whispered with fear,' Come on now. Stop playing around. 'Scott.... please say its you.' she thought in terror.
Silence filled the room. She stood, ballet slippers clutched in her hands, breath deep and heavy. She backed away from the door, knowing that it couldn't be Scott. Remembering what she said before, found it very foolish of her to say she was scared. She backed up until she was up against the wall, no where else to go.
"please go away, please,' she thought to her self.
The door started to open again, only this time it didn't open slowly, it crashed against the wall. Smashing, and splintering the wood. The door leaned croaked on the remaining hinge, as though the door was kicked in.
The shock and terror pulled her to the ground, unable to move. She just sat motionless, to frightened to even breath. For they're in front of her was a black figure. she couldn't quite make out the face but the only thing she was sure about, the only thing she could see, was blonde hair. The man had blonde hair.
" I always like them to be frightened, it gives them flavor," he whispered to her with a grin. His face changed and contoured.
All she could remember was the speed and grace of the man moving towards her, then her own blood in a pool around her.
The man knelt before the body of the dancer and whipped the blood from his mouth. He Looked down at her, with a satisfying grin and got up. He gave the girl a nice peck on the check, walked into the shadows and picked up a ticket from the dresser.
"That should do me for the night,' he proclaimed,' but I might get a little peckish."