Chapter V: Some Enchanted Evening
Cerridwen was a complete success in The Mishler's latest production of 'Eveta.' Odd in a way because I've always wondered why someone would write a musical about the president of Argentina's wife. But I say too much. As a result, Mr. Amberson decided that a party was in order for his fine crew of actors.
The party was held---where else? ---at The Mishler Theater. Such a shock came from the cast of characters. Balloons littered the entrance of the opera house. Crepe paper strings hung lazily through the air. Their director had (surprisingly) outdone himself.
Different varieties of snacks were set out on a table, which was strange considering the fact that it was against the rules to have food in the theater.
"Wow . . ." breathed Tyia.
"I'm mildly surprised about this," said Cerridwen.
Her sister replied, "Yeah . . .I mean, Mr. Amberson did this?"
"Well . . .he HAD it done. I don't think he actually did it. This IS Mr. Amberson we're talking about."
"Hah. . . . True."
As the festivities went underway only three people seemed like they were not enjoying themselves. Cerridwen for obvious reasons. She was missing her angel sorely. Dib, who was there simply by Tyia's invitation, was angered because his latest ghost hunts at the theater had been unsuccessful. The third and final subject was Aries. Though the young fiddle-est was quiet, he was acting like he would rather not be there. No, he certainly didn't want to be there. Not tonight. Senses told him that the spirits of the opera house were restless. Angered. Someone was making them mad and something. . . something was going to happen. . .tonight.
~*~
Cerridwen hadn't stayed at the party for very long. Quite the contrary, she rushed straight to her dressing room around eleven thirty. Little known to her, she had a follower.
"Look, Aries, not saying that I don't trust you, but. . . . .do you REALLY think we should be stalking her like this?"
The young violinist sighed. His exasperation for the ghost-hunter was beginning to show. "Dib," he said while rubbing his temples, "There is something bothering her. Now do you want to see if you can help or don't you?"
Dib stared at the skinny musician for a moment. He then nodded and the two continued their search.
"And besides," murmured Aries, "it's not stalking if we're trying to help."
~*~
"How can I tell him. . .?" she wondered aloud.
The odd gray eyes of the young singer were weary and no longer as bright as they use to be. Her pale skin seemed to take on a gray tinge and the circles under her eyes make her look like one of the dead. Two weeks had passed since she made her decision. The decision to never see her Angel of Music again. Though, I did not say that she couldn't hear him.
The Invader had called for her often. At her dressing room, her home, everywhere. Though she could no longer see him, his voice still haunted her. But. . .he had been trying to control her mind! And at times. . .he had. . .
Cerridwen closed her silvery eyes. How she hated being like this. It was cruel. Zim had been trying to help her achieve her dream!. . . .hadn't he?
She sighed.
It all came back to what the little green dog---Gir---had told her just before it went off to rant about 'chocolate bubblegum moths.'
There was only one thing to do. Well, only one thing she could think of at least. After ruffling through her music sheets, books, and other odds and ends, Cerridwen unearthed a few blank scraps of paper and set to work. She was writing to The Phantom. For she knew that if she left the note in her dressing room he would be sure to receive it.
All the while she wrote her apology to Zim-the apology about why she could no longer see him---Cerridwen couldn't help but get the eerie feeling that---she didn't want to think about it. Cerridwen sighed once more and uttered two solitary words: "Poor Zim. . ."
No one could have heard her. It wouldn't be possible unless you were in the room right then and there.
Or. . .
Unless you have a high-tech set of headphones that allowed you to hear even the quietest sound. And a bespectacled boy named Dib had just that.
~*~
The clock struck midnight. It was no particular evening but everyone cheered enthusiastically at the sound of the chimes just the same. But their cheers were soon turned to gasps and screams. For there, marching haughtily down the marble steps of The Mishler Theater was. . .The Phantom. The Irken Invader.
The Opera Ghost.
Velvet crimson cloak trailing on the steps behind him, Zim made his way down the steps. The ever-lasting grin on his skull mask leered at the spectators. But best of all was the largely feathered hat atop his pale green head.
Someone scoffed assuming that this was some kind of joke. The Invader's deep scarlet eyes narrowed. The nonbeliever daringly reached out to touch the dark red and gold robes of The Phantom.
"Do not touch me!" Zim snarled threateningly, "I am Red Death!"
Gasps came from the throngs of guests.
"One of your fiiiilthy number has betrayed me!" the Irken continued on. "Who were they, you pitiful earth monkeys ask? Well, I will---no." The silver spider-like legs that the 'ghost' was raised upon clicked as he paced the staircase. "The moronic girl has suffered enough . . . . . . But that is not to say that YOU idiotic stink beasts WILL NOT!"
The crowd of theatrical performers buzzed with fearful excitement. The dancers, Abby and Sandra, stood there. Abby twisted the hem of her shirt in her hands. Sandra bit her lips till they nearly drew blood. And a look of panic masked both of their once pretty faces.
Smiling at the partygoers' undeniable terror, Zim raised his arms and with one final sneer cried, "I shall now rain DOOM down upon your filthy DOOMED heads!"
And with one last sinister cackle and a plume of red smoke, the legendary opera ghost disappeared from his place on the marble steps.
If the guests thought that a well angered phantom was bad they were wrong. What appeared in his place was much worse. Oh, it was very doomful, you must know. A pipe had burst and was now spewing mucky, dirty water all through the entrance hall, right where the children were.
It was the children's obligation to panic. Who knew that such a pleasant night could become so terrible? Freezing, grimy, muddy water was being rained down upon them (just as Zim had said). The icy cold terror that had been stuck in the old plumbing of the opera house quickly rose to their knees.
Try as the adults did to take order and calmly escort the kids out of the theater, they were unsuccessful. The screams of worried people echoed throughout the spacious entrance hall. Eagerly the people ran for the doors but only to see that they could not see them at all!
The power had gone out. The ghost had plunged them into darkness.
More shrieks from the groups of people. Some of them wondered if this would ever end at all. . .if they were going to be stuck like for the rest of their days. . .
And that's when Cerridwen entered the scene.
The gray-eyed pianist scanned the crowd for her sister and friends but with no suck luck. Suddenly a hand clamped around her shoulders. A hand that smelt of death. . .
"Gotcha!" a voice from behind her said.
"No! Let me go! I'll never go back to you! Never!" Cerridwen screamed as she flailed her arms desperately.
"Cerridwen, what is wrong with you!?" Wait. . .that sounded like---
"Aries!?" she exclaimed. "You're okay?"
"Yeah, if a little more worse for wear," Aries cracked. Even in horrific times that boy could always manage to make light of the situation. "Dib and Tyia are all right too."
"And just where were you?" Cerridwen demanded, determined not to let her fear show. Her shaking hands and darting eyes did not help.
"I was in the music room getting my flute and I dunno WHERE these two were," Tyia informed her. She jabbed her thumb towards the drenched Dib and Aries. They nodded. "They were telling me something odd though. . ."
Tyia was trying to take the careful approach but Dib was too eager.
"How do YOU know ZIM!?" he shouted, nearly hysterical.
"I. . . I just. . .Oh!" Cerridwen threw up her hands and nearly dashed into the liquid that the guests were 'swimming' in.
"Not so fast, Lucy," said Tyia, putting an arm around her older sister to stop her escape, "You got some 'splainin' to do."
Cerridwen was a complete success in The Mishler's latest production of 'Eveta.' Odd in a way because I've always wondered why someone would write a musical about the president of Argentina's wife. But I say too much. As a result, Mr. Amberson decided that a party was in order for his fine crew of actors.
The party was held---where else? ---at The Mishler Theater. Such a shock came from the cast of characters. Balloons littered the entrance of the opera house. Crepe paper strings hung lazily through the air. Their director had (surprisingly) outdone himself.
Different varieties of snacks were set out on a table, which was strange considering the fact that it was against the rules to have food in the theater.
"Wow . . ." breathed Tyia.
"I'm mildly surprised about this," said Cerridwen.
Her sister replied, "Yeah . . .I mean, Mr. Amberson did this?"
"Well . . .he HAD it done. I don't think he actually did it. This IS Mr. Amberson we're talking about."
"Hah. . . . True."
As the festivities went underway only three people seemed like they were not enjoying themselves. Cerridwen for obvious reasons. She was missing her angel sorely. Dib, who was there simply by Tyia's invitation, was angered because his latest ghost hunts at the theater had been unsuccessful. The third and final subject was Aries. Though the young fiddle-est was quiet, he was acting like he would rather not be there. No, he certainly didn't want to be there. Not tonight. Senses told him that the spirits of the opera house were restless. Angered. Someone was making them mad and something. . . something was going to happen. . .tonight.
~*~
Cerridwen hadn't stayed at the party for very long. Quite the contrary, she rushed straight to her dressing room around eleven thirty. Little known to her, she had a follower.
"Look, Aries, not saying that I don't trust you, but. . . . .do you REALLY think we should be stalking her like this?"
The young violinist sighed. His exasperation for the ghost-hunter was beginning to show. "Dib," he said while rubbing his temples, "There is something bothering her. Now do you want to see if you can help or don't you?"
Dib stared at the skinny musician for a moment. He then nodded and the two continued their search.
"And besides," murmured Aries, "it's not stalking if we're trying to help."
~*~
"How can I tell him. . .?" she wondered aloud.
The odd gray eyes of the young singer were weary and no longer as bright as they use to be. Her pale skin seemed to take on a gray tinge and the circles under her eyes make her look like one of the dead. Two weeks had passed since she made her decision. The decision to never see her Angel of Music again. Though, I did not say that she couldn't hear him.
The Invader had called for her often. At her dressing room, her home, everywhere. Though she could no longer see him, his voice still haunted her. But. . .he had been trying to control her mind! And at times. . .he had. . .
Cerridwen closed her silvery eyes. How she hated being like this. It was cruel. Zim had been trying to help her achieve her dream!. . . .hadn't he?
She sighed.
It all came back to what the little green dog---Gir---had told her just before it went off to rant about 'chocolate bubblegum moths.'
There was only one thing to do. Well, only one thing she could think of at least. After ruffling through her music sheets, books, and other odds and ends, Cerridwen unearthed a few blank scraps of paper and set to work. She was writing to The Phantom. For she knew that if she left the note in her dressing room he would be sure to receive it.
All the while she wrote her apology to Zim-the apology about why she could no longer see him---Cerridwen couldn't help but get the eerie feeling that---she didn't want to think about it. Cerridwen sighed once more and uttered two solitary words: "Poor Zim. . ."
No one could have heard her. It wouldn't be possible unless you were in the room right then and there.
Or. . .
Unless you have a high-tech set of headphones that allowed you to hear even the quietest sound. And a bespectacled boy named Dib had just that.
~*~
The clock struck midnight. It was no particular evening but everyone cheered enthusiastically at the sound of the chimes just the same. But their cheers were soon turned to gasps and screams. For there, marching haughtily down the marble steps of The Mishler Theater was. . .The Phantom. The Irken Invader.
The Opera Ghost.
Velvet crimson cloak trailing on the steps behind him, Zim made his way down the steps. The ever-lasting grin on his skull mask leered at the spectators. But best of all was the largely feathered hat atop his pale green head.
Someone scoffed assuming that this was some kind of joke. The Invader's deep scarlet eyes narrowed. The nonbeliever daringly reached out to touch the dark red and gold robes of The Phantom.
"Do not touch me!" Zim snarled threateningly, "I am Red Death!"
Gasps came from the throngs of guests.
"One of your fiiiilthy number has betrayed me!" the Irken continued on. "Who were they, you pitiful earth monkeys ask? Well, I will---no." The silver spider-like legs that the 'ghost' was raised upon clicked as he paced the staircase. "The moronic girl has suffered enough . . . . . . But that is not to say that YOU idiotic stink beasts WILL NOT!"
The crowd of theatrical performers buzzed with fearful excitement. The dancers, Abby and Sandra, stood there. Abby twisted the hem of her shirt in her hands. Sandra bit her lips till they nearly drew blood. And a look of panic masked both of their once pretty faces.
Smiling at the partygoers' undeniable terror, Zim raised his arms and with one final sneer cried, "I shall now rain DOOM down upon your filthy DOOMED heads!"
And with one last sinister cackle and a plume of red smoke, the legendary opera ghost disappeared from his place on the marble steps.
If the guests thought that a well angered phantom was bad they were wrong. What appeared in his place was much worse. Oh, it was very doomful, you must know. A pipe had burst and was now spewing mucky, dirty water all through the entrance hall, right where the children were.
It was the children's obligation to panic. Who knew that such a pleasant night could become so terrible? Freezing, grimy, muddy water was being rained down upon them (just as Zim had said). The icy cold terror that had been stuck in the old plumbing of the opera house quickly rose to their knees.
Try as the adults did to take order and calmly escort the kids out of the theater, they were unsuccessful. The screams of worried people echoed throughout the spacious entrance hall. Eagerly the people ran for the doors but only to see that they could not see them at all!
The power had gone out. The ghost had plunged them into darkness.
More shrieks from the groups of people. Some of them wondered if this would ever end at all. . .if they were going to be stuck like for the rest of their days. . .
And that's when Cerridwen entered the scene.
The gray-eyed pianist scanned the crowd for her sister and friends but with no suck luck. Suddenly a hand clamped around her shoulders. A hand that smelt of death. . .
"Gotcha!" a voice from behind her said.
"No! Let me go! I'll never go back to you! Never!" Cerridwen screamed as she flailed her arms desperately.
"Cerridwen, what is wrong with you!?" Wait. . .that sounded like---
"Aries!?" she exclaimed. "You're okay?"
"Yeah, if a little more worse for wear," Aries cracked. Even in horrific times that boy could always manage to make light of the situation. "Dib and Tyia are all right too."
"And just where were you?" Cerridwen demanded, determined not to let her fear show. Her shaking hands and darting eyes did not help.
"I was in the music room getting my flute and I dunno WHERE these two were," Tyia informed her. She jabbed her thumb towards the drenched Dib and Aries. They nodded. "They were telling me something odd though. . ."
Tyia was trying to take the careful approach but Dib was too eager.
"How do YOU know ZIM!?" he shouted, nearly hysterical.
"I. . . I just. . .Oh!" Cerridwen threw up her hands and nearly dashed into the liquid that the guests were 'swimming' in.
"Not so fast, Lucy," said Tyia, putting an arm around her older sister to stop her escape, "You got some 'splainin' to do."