First there was a white half mask. And a rose. Then there was a loud gunshot, almost piercing to the eardrums, and a moan. It was full of pain. It was also coming from a man. His face appeared. The right side was shadowed in the darkness that consumed everything else. The eye, which was covered in black, shown bright yellow and the other eye was a plain black. Eyes like a cat, he had, and tears were streaming down from them. The man opened his mouth to speak, but when his lips moved nothing came out, until he reached his last sentence. "I will be protecting you, always." His voice was heavenly, the voice of an angel. There was another deafening gunshot.
Christina Daaylen shot up in her bed, wide awake, her waist length, straight, light brown hair everywhere. A cold sweat poured over her, as if it were raining, soaking her pajamas. She wiped the sweat from her face. She was still breathing hard. What had that been all about? Sure she had some weird dreams every once in a while, but none like this. The 17-year-old's brown eyes wandered to her clock, which was sitting on the white night stand, next to her bed. It read 4:52 AM. Christina would have to be getting up in about thirty minutes, anyway, to get ready for school. She was also wide-awake. There seemed to be no reason for her to go back to sleep. Maybe she could just go down into the newly finished basement, where no one could hear anything, and play her flute, or sing.
She got her musical talent from her mom. Her mother sang; her grandmother sang. Everyone up until her third great grandmother sang. They were very successful at it. Her third great grandmother, who was Swedish born, had been an Opera Diva at the Paris Opera House, in France, for some time. Christina wasn't too familiar with that story; no one had even bothered to give her the name of her famous great grandmother. All she knew was that she hurried out of France in 1883, just a year after she had her first child.
Christina uncovered herself and stepped onto the white carpet that covered her floor. She turned on the light, revealing her maroon walls, which was clad with pictures she had drawn of her various dreams. She was also quite the artist. In the back of her mind, the young girl noted to draw one of her more recent dream. She went over to her closet and opened it, wondering what she would wear. In her rather large closet hung a white, sparkling, off shoulder dress. The top was tight and the bottom was poofy. It looked like it belonged in the 1800s. The dress was for singing performances. The dress had been passed down to each generation, since her third great grandmother, but still looked new. Trying to find her way around the many skirts of the fancy dress, Christina grabbed a brown layered skirt. Then, she went over to her chest-of-drawers and pulled out a short-sleeved, maroon shirt. Her matching maroon flip-flops were already downstairs, by the door.
After she dressed, Christina stood in front of her mirror and brushed her hair. She was also thinking about her dream. Who was that man? He was handsome, and that voice! Oh, what a wonderful voice! And why was only half of his face visible? Coming out of her thoughts, the girl put her brush down, turned off her light, and headed for the basement.
The house was silent and dark, just how she liked it to be. Her little brother was usually jumping around, and all in her business. Her parents fought sometimes. They would yell at the top of their lungs at each other, especially when they were drunk. She loved them, even so, but it got annoying. Christina found her way to the basement door and went down the carpeted stairs. The light switch was at the bottom of the stairs, so hopefully she didn't trip. When she safely got to the bottom, she flipped on the light and looked around. Her parents had granted half of the basement to her, as her own personal space. This is where she could play, practice, sing, and draw. The other half held the family's computers and laptops.
Christina pushed open the door to her side and went in. There were candles all around. She liked working in candlelight, instead of bright lighting. There was a small drawing studio in a corner, her instruments stored in another corner and shelves of music. She also kept a boom box in the room, so if she needed to remind herself of a melody, she could just pop in a CD and listen.
She looked at her instruments, which consisted of a flute, a piccolo, a small keyboard- the real piano was upstairs-, and a violin. She could also play the clarinet and saxophone. Instead of picking on up to play, she went over to her many shelves of music and picked up a few sheets entitled "Think of Me." It was an old song from the opera called "Hannibal." Her mother taught it to her when she first learned how to sing. It was one of Christina's favorites. Another song that was passed down was called "Point of No Return", in which she usually sang with her boyfriend, who was also a singer. She had done some research on that particular song, but found no record of it. All she found that was apparently linked to it, was the famous chandelier crash of 1871 in the Paris Opera House. Her mother wouldn't tell her either, but Christina knew that the older woman knew.
Deciding to sing "Think of Me", Christina set the sheet music down on her desk and stood up straight. She imagined wearing the dress that hung in her closet, and being on the stage of an opera house. Her hair would be up in curls, with star hairpins, and star earrings. Christina sang the song, perfectly, and by the end was smiling brightly. She had forgotten about the dream for now. When it was over, she suddenly went pale, and her smile faded. It felt as if there was someone there. She spun, looking around the entire room.
"Hello?" she said, getting chills. No one answered, but there was a definite presence in the room. Christina looked up to the clock, which read 5:38 AM. The presence had now faded. She decided to leave the basement, and go upstairs. Her parents would be getting up soon to have breakfast and get ready for work. Letting out a deep breath, she turned off the light in the room and went upstairs.
"Ah, good morning, honey," her mother said when she came upstairs. "Were you singing just now?"
"Yes, mother…"
What Christina had failed to see before she left was the rose sitting on top of her "Think of Me" music. It had a note attached to it with a black ribbon.