It was a normal evening. I work part time after my classes at an old theater. It's hardly used anymore except by the local acting troupe, so the largest staff on hand consists of the janitors.
That'd include me. Heh.
I was almost done, in the far back rows of theater one when I heard a soft tapping. I looked to the door for Stan, nodding to the music in his head as he knocked gently on the door, his signal to hurry up so we could all get out of there. He wasn't there. I realized the gentle knock was coming from behind, which was odd considering the emptiness of the theater. I turned, scanning the area row by row.
I didn't have to look long. There was a young woman, center stage. She clearly couldn't see me, as the shadows from the overhanging balcony hid me. But I saw her.
The only light came from the lighting booth on the third floor, but it was enough to cast a soft glow on her face. The soft tapping I had heard was her padding across stage to the center, where she stopped dead. She looked out into the audience of empty seats and sang.
God, she was beautiful.
Mournful and longing, hurt and aching and needing and desire filled the empty theater. I choked back tears, though I could see them clearly beginning to stream down her face. The dim light caught the sparkling tears as they poured steadily from her sparkling eyes. Her voice was so filled with passion that I longed to reach out and touch her, hold her, and let her know everything was all right.
Suddenly, the theater wasn't empty anymore, and the room came alive with the power of her voice alone. Her voice rose powerfully as though she had begun to get away from the pain that hang dripped from her eyes and spilled from her mouth only moments before. Beat after beat she built the music, louder and higher and more passionate than before.
And it was over. She slid to her knees slowly, letting the last dying words come as though her life depended on their escape. The theater was empty again and her singing faded until the only sounds in the vast room were her quiet sobs.
I heard a gentle knock behind me, and I turned to see Stan, nodding to the tune in his head and tapping on the door telling me to hurry up so we could go. I turned around one more time to see her, to rush to her and comfort her for whatever reason.
She was gone.
My mind filled with the heartbreaking voice that sang to an audience of one. One person she didn't know was there. One person willing to help. One person willing to try and make a difference.
One person singing a song of despair to an audience she thought was gone.
I followed Stan out into a foggy parking lot. As he locked the door, I looked out into the night. Some street lamps lighting the road on a street hardly anyone went down anymore past an old theater that hardly merited the janitorial staff it had.
It was a normal evening.
A/N: I know this is really off and not really DP, but I wanted to write about a ghost. This is all that came out, though, and I'm sorry if I made anyone mad by having no canon characters. Maybe I'll continue with this, make it more than a one shot. We'll see...