Hello, all. You shall know me as Miss Anderton. You may have seen elsewhere that I am Serafimo's Pretense's editor. My only hope is that I may have as much of an impact on you as she has had on me. No, none of my characters are named Christina or Eric with-a-c; this is merely a tribute to a dear friend of mine. Please read and rate! No, I don't own the characters or anything remotely PotO (so please don't sue). Happy reading!
Sincerely,
Miss Anderton
P.S. My deepest and most sincere apologies – because of my commitment to education (and all the homework my teachers load on me!) it may be hard for me to find time to update often. Comments will be greatly appreciated and could possibly motivate me to update sooner. Keep checking back, and know that I appreciate your support.
Chapter 1: First Encounter
Ballet practice was over for the day. The fatigued girls left the stage, worn out after hours of practice, for their dressing rooms, no one noticing the lone masked figure peering down from box five at the nearly empty stage spread out below him. No one that is, but the ballet instructor.
Madame Giry was a confidant and determined woman with a strong will and a powerful yet graceful presence. Though she demanded respect and was clearly a person of authority, she was not arrogant. Everyone who was familiar with the former dancer knew her to be sensible and kind. She was familiar with the ways of the opera house and the cons of modern man. Knowing what went on with so many of the young girls of the day, she was very protective of her dancers and their well being.
As her eyes searched the red velvet covered seats of the auditorium and the rafters above, she found what she was looking for in box five. She nodded a solemn greeting to the solitary individual in the theatre. With a nod of response, he acknowledged her greeting and returned it. These gestures were not only signs of greeting, but also of understanding. For they held a secret that no one else knew of.
The young girl crouched in the corner of the large stage, mesmerized by the scene taking place before her. She watched in astonishment as a man with a mask hiding part of his features appeared standing in one of the balcony seating areas. She gasped, then drew back for fear of being heard. The man was far away, but he appeared confident, proud and mysterious. Christine sensed something dangerous and potentially lethal about this man. It was as if she got too close, he could strike her down dead with a single glance.
Christine peeked around a box and saw her dance instructor, Madame Giry staring up into the balcony at the stranger. Confused, she pulled back into her hiding space and sat, gazing up at the man high above her. She intently searched him, looking for something, anything, to identify who he was and what he was doing here. Although she was unable to find a satisfactory answer to her questions, she continued to study him and saw what appeared to be some sort of gratitude directed toward Mme. Giry.
Christine remained in her hiding spot as both the mystery man and Mme. Giry left the theatre. She didn't move for a few minutes. She was certain she had never seen the man before. Finally, when she was sure the others were gone, she stepped out from the shadows. Heading towards the chapalle, she couldn't stop herself from thinking about what she had just seen.