Danielle made her way through the narrow, overcrowded corpes de ballet dressing room. She passed the identical vanities that lined the walls and the racks at the front of the room that held all of the ballerina's costumes. Finally, she reached her destination.
"Christine, what's wrong?" Danielle asked. The ballet rat's deep voice stood out among the other sharp, high-pitched voices that chattered endlessly in the dressing room.
"Nothing. Nothing's wrong," Christine said, turning around in her vanity stool to face her friend.
"I may have known you for only a month," Danielle rejoined, "but I know that something is definitely wrong. Why don't you tell me?" Before Christine could reply, she continued. "Look how your hands tremble- they're like that all the time. At the slightest sound, you start and look over your shoulder with a look of most utter fear displayed on your face, Christine."
"That's not true, Danielle," Christine replied, her voice wavering.
Danielle persisted, "Christine, tell me what is wrong."
Christine leaned in to Danielle and said in a hushed tone, "I… I think I'm being stalked."
"Stalked?"
"Yes. I don't have any physical evidence to show for it, but I just know that, wherever I go, I'm never alone." Danielle stared at her friend with a terrified but somewhat excited expression on her face. After all, it was like she was a character in one of those gothic novels that she so enjoyed. "I'm frightened, Danielle. Lurking in the shadows, someone- or something- is there."
"But we must investigate!" Danielle said, "It's what all the heroines in the gothic novels do."
"Danielle!" Christine cried. "Investigate? Are you mad? This isn't a gothic novel where real lives aren't at risk, this is a real-life nightmare!" By now, everyone but Danielle and Christine had left the dressing room and were headed home.
"Calm down, Christine. We ought to go home now. It's well after midnight." Danielle sat at the empty vanity beside Christine's and began to untie her Pointe shoes.
"You're right. After all, I'm probably just being silly." The girls slipped out of their costumes and in to their everyday dresses in silence.
"Good night, Christine," Danielle said as she was about to leave.
"Good night, Danielle." Inside, Christine didn't want Danielle to leave her all alone to navigate the opera's ill-light passages. She had only been working there for a month, since her father's death, and she still hadn't quite memorized the intricate labyrinth of hallways. Still, Christine didn't want to be a bother so she let Danielle leave.
A few minutes later, Christine was ready to go back to the flat she shared with her benefactress, "Mamma" Valerius. As Christine crossed the threshold of the door, the lamps that illuminated the room behind her suddenly went out. She shivered, but tried not to let it faze her.
"They probably just ran out of kerosene," she said, trying to convince herself that some other mysterious force wasn't at work. She brushed a stray lock of golden hair behind her ear and continued onward.
There was a loud creek. Christine started and looked over her shoulder. Behind her she could see a shadow representing the form of a man. For a few moments she was frozen. When she saw the shadow step forward, Christine broke into a mad run. She heard the shadow man begin to run too. The shadow man was saying something, but Christine couldn't make out the words, all there was was the sound of two pairs of feet bounding along the corridor's wooden floorboards.
All of a sudden two arms reached out from nowhere and seized her. Christine screamed, and a gloved hand flew to her mouth. "Shh," a male voice cooed in her left ear, "you are in no danger." Her captor dragged her into a dark tunnel. She noticed that his arms were frightfully bony, as if they were the arms of a skeleton.
As Christine's captor dragged her further in to the tunnel, a man whizzed past the tunnel crying, "Come on, dearie! Come back here!" She recognized the voice of the shadow man, his words now clearer. She relaxed for a moment, knowing that she was free of the shadow man, but immediately tensed back up when she realized thatnow she was in the arms of another strange man who continued to drag her down the dark tunnel.
In the blink of an eye, Christine and her captor were beneath the grand staircase of the opera's rotunda.
"You shall tell no one of what has transpired tonight," the man commanded. "Is that understood?" Christine nodded, and the man's hand was removed from her mouth. She was so frightened, she would comply with any rules her captor set down in exchange for her freedom and her life. "Good, no go." The man released her and shoved her out from under the staircase. Christine turned around to see who he was, but there was no one to be found.
Fin