He was driving her up the wall. The ghost would not leave her alone.
Rehearsals were the only time she was left with some reprieve. It seemed that they were sacred place that was not to be tarnished with his torturous endeavors. She was grateful for the respite for she was growing tired of his threats, lewd comments and all around b.s.
Ange stood at the edge of the stage and wiped her brow with a towel. Rehearsals were vigorous and draining but she couldn't help feel invigorated. Monsieur Reyer was strict and concise which made for orderly blocking and strict timing. She preferred order to the "creative chaos" many of her peers back at college had preferred.
"You are looking quite heated today Mademoiselle."
Ange didn't stop a growl to escape her throat but she inwardly cursed as it only seemed to encourage him. A wicked laughter pursued her as she collected her few essentials from Stage Right.
She had wanted to stay a bit longer perhaps enjoy the quiet of the empty theater, but his achingly beautiful and yet sinister voice ruined everything.
Still she tilted her head back and closed her eyes, she took deep breaths in and out and opened her eyes once more. The back of the stage opened wide in front of her parts of scenes poking out from its long sides, a spare tree or gable here or there. Every part essential to create a world for the audience. Her lips tilted upwards at the corners, theater was her happy place. Not the people in it, but the atmosphere and its mechanics, all the separate pieces coming together to create something outstanding. Each component had a story to tell, each prop had a purpose and Ange reveled in such unity.
She turned back towards the velvet seats and walked out to the edge with a sigh she sat with her legs dangling over the orchestra pit.
She didn't allow her mind to second guess herself and so she leaned back and put her arms behind her head and stared up at the stage's ceiling and out further its border of dark crimson curtains and then further the gold filigree. The golden gilt statues reaching up towards the sky and the ginormous chandelier that hung twinkling in the light, thousands of crystals laughing at her prone form on the stage.
Perhaps it was the silence that had warned her first. Or perhaps she had actually her the ropes as the chafed against each other and the squeal of the gears. Whichever it might have been Ange looked up just at the right moment to see the sandbag swing toward her head and barely rolled out of the way before it slammed against the stage.
"Shi..."
"What a filthy mouth you have mademoiselle." The irritating ghostly chuckle morphed into a mad laugh.
"Shut up!" She let out a yell. "What the hell is wrong with you?"
Silence met her and she clenched her fists and gazed up above her watchful for another lethal thing to fall from the flies above her. With his silence her own silent choice was made.
For a while Ange had begun to wonder about this ghost. And this job she had found herself in, for although she would not trade it for any other there were things that had begun to not add up. She had been too busy with rehearsals to leave the Opera but when ever she viewed the world outside the high windows it was carrying on as if they had always lived in the 19th century, frozen in time.
Ange shook her head and straightened her spine as she fully stood up brushing herself off after her roll on the stage.
It didn't matter, not really, what exactly was going on; because all that matter at that moment was that this ghost had gone too far and she was going to make sure he knew it.
She marched away from the stage her eyes lit within by a determined fire to find the ghost who had driven her mad.