How to Be an Opera Ghost

Part Five: "Practice"


The new opera ghost was very, very pleased with herself. Her first day of haunting had been a wonderful success, and as she walked back to her flat that evening, she had to fight a ridiculous urge to dance all the way home. And fight it she did – at least until she was safely inside her own flat, whereupon she immediately twirled around the room a few times, just to give all the adrenaline in her system something to do.

Collapsing in her favourite chair, Isabelle grinned to herself. Being a ghost was fun – far more fun than she'd ever thought it could be. It was like having free reign over the entire Opéra! As the ghost, she could go anywhere and do anything, and nobody would question her. Most people, as she'd discovered that day, would catch a glimpse of her from afar and run the other way without even stopping to look more closely. In a way, this was a bit disappointing (after all, she'd gone through so much trouble to perfect the costume); but mostly it was thrilling. It was a feeling of power that she'd never experienced before in her entire life.

There was, of course, the question of the real opera ghost, the mysterious fellow called Erik whom Christine had said lived five levels below the Opéra. Was he still there? Isabelle didn't know. Did he still pay attention to the goings-on at the Opéra, even though he didn't haunt it anymore? She didn't know. Did he know that someone had taken his place?

She didn't know.

That last thought made her more than a little uneasy, but she shrugged it off as easily as she would a shawl. If the real ghost did find out about what she was doing, she reasoned, then surely he would see that it was for the greater good. The company needed a ghost. He, of all people, would certainly understand that.

But more than anything, the company needed a good ghost. And Erik had been a very good ghost; of that there was no question.

Would Isabelle be a good ghost? She frowned to herself as she sat in her chair. Well, that remained to be seen. She'd done well on her first day, but there were still so many things that she needed to master. For instance, how did a ghost – a ghost who, from what little Isabelle knew, was as human as she was – get from place to place without being seen? How did a human ghost disappear after being spotted? How did a human ghost sneak in and out of Box Five without attracting anyone's attention?

It was all very puzzling, but Isabelle knew that it was useless to wonder about such things when one was sitting in one's flat and thus unable to inspect the Opéra any closer and find answers.

For now, she decided, she would only concentrate on things that she could work on while at home.

Such as her laugh.

The ghost had to have a laugh. Erik had had one, and therefore Isabelle ought to have one too. Yes… that was something that she could tackle right now.

Rising from her chair and planting herself in front of the nearest mirror, she took a deep breath and let out a low-pitched chuckle.

She wrinkled her nose at what had turned out to be a poor effort indeed. She tried again, but still it didn't seem right. It wasn't sinister enough.

A thought occurred to her, and she darted over to her ballet satchel, retrieving the mask from beneath her multiple pairs of shoes. Fastening it upon her face, she went back to the mirror and stood up straight. Not straight like a ballet dancer – but straight like an elegant gentleman who wouldn't know how to stand any other way. Trying to ignore the fact that she was in a dress, she placed both hands on her hips and tried to feel… well, ghostly. Maybe if she felt ghostly, she reasoned, she would have an easier time of sounding it.

She thought the word "sinister" and chuckled again.

And it worked.

How odd! She chuckled at herself again, and a shiver ran down her spine at the sound. She was good at this.

Excellent! she thought. Now, it was time to move onto full-fledged maniacal laughter….