Prologue
She sat on the cold, marble floors of the grand Paris Opera House, scrubbing vigorously as she hummed the aria from that night's play. The gigantic theatre had only opened a few months earlier but already it was an enormous success. She was very lucky she had gotten work there. Even though she was only but a simple maid, jobs there were in fierce competition.
Yes, very lucky indeed. Since she was a very young girl she had adored the operas and more importantly, their singers. From her childhood, she could still remember her mother singing the tunes from the shows that were in town, her voice rising and falling, matching each pitch perfectly. She often asked her why she didn't go sing for them in the opera houses. Her mother would always laugh and tell her to run along and play. She guessed her mother knew that they would never listen to a common woman sing. But that was what started her interest in the opera. From then on, she had spent much time around the opera houses. If she ever saved up enough extra money, she would spend it on the best seat she could afford. Listening to her mother and the other singers over the years, she'd even developed her voice quite nicely.
She lifted her voice slightly louder and began to sing, "Addiodel passato bei sogni redenti." Singing louder still, she continued, "Le rose del volto gia…"
She stopped abruptly as she noticed someone was singing with her. The beautiful, masculine voice finished, "son pallenti."
She gasped and looked around, startled. "Who's there?" her voice quavered. She looked into the auditorium beyond her and saw no one but the other ladies with which she worked, all of whom were too far away to hear their voices and didn't seem to notice that anything had happened. She looked above her into the rafters but didn't see anyone there either. This was not the first time she'd heard the voice. It had happened on a couple of occasions before, always that same beautiful, entrancing voice, singing along with her. It almost seemed like an angel was singing. Still looking around cautiously, she slowly sat back on the floor. Wiping away the last of the water on the floor, she deposited the scrub brush into the wash pail. Gathering the bucket, she stood and walked away.
She walked through the labyrinth of passageways that led to the back alley. Once outside, she dumped the bucket's contents onto the ground. Just as she was turning to leave, she screamed in surprise. With a closer look, she realized the figure that was standing in the doorway was none other than her best friend, Cecile. Cecile, who was a few years elder than her, had been her friend for many years. She reckoned they'd known each other since they were children.
"What's got into you?" she said, slight amusement in her voice.
Caressa sighed and walked back into the theatre. "Oh, it's nothing. I was singing in the foyer and I thought I heard someone singing along. It just frightened me a bit."
Cecile stopped walking and grasped her shoulder. "Are you sure?" she said, her tone becoming very serious.
"Sure about what?" Caressa asked, confused.
"About hearing a voice," Cecile quickly added.
"Well, no. It just sounded like there was one. Those foyer halls echo sometimes, it could have been my own voice." Cecile's grip loosened and she looked relieved. "Why? What's the matter?"
"Have you not heard the tales of the opera ghost?" she asked.
"No, I suppose not."
Dropping her voice to a whisper, she said, "There are rumors that a ghost lurks in this building, a hideous creature with a distorted face and skin as yellow as parchment. No one knows for sure if he's real. As soon as he's spotted he disappears. I'll tell you one thing's for sure though, I believe in him."
Caressa laughed and asked, "Why?"
"I saw him once. Standing up in the rafters way high above the theatre looking down. Just as every one says he disappeared instantly. Nearly scared me half to death!"
"Why Cecile, you should know better than to believe in ghosts!" Caressa said, continuing to laugh.
"The manager doesn't think it's funny. He always keeps box five open upon the ghost's request. I've heard that he even pays the ghost a salary!"
"That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard. Who ever heard of paying ghosts a salary?"
"Well, believe what you will. But I'd be careful if I were you, 'specially with you hearing voices and all," Cecile said, her voice turning merry again. As they returned to the foyer, she asked, "So are you heading home now?"
"Yes, I suppose I should. It is getting late," Caressa replied.
Taking the wash pail from her she said, "Well, be careful. The streets can be dangerous at night."
"I expect I should be okay," she answered. "I shall see you tomorrow."
Cecile smiled and answered, "Bright and early!"
Caressa returned a smile and exited the building. She descended the long flight of stairs down to the empty streets. At the bottom, she looked back up. Suddenly, something in a window on the top floor caught her eye. She stared but she couldn't see it any longer. She could have sworn she'd seen the figure of a man standing there. She shrugged and began walking home. "I'm letting my imagination get entirely out of hand," she said to herself. Looking forward to climbing into bed, she picked up her pace and began the long journey home.