Dear Journal,
I've graduated, sort of… if you could call it that. I've completed my training, anyway. They have offered me a job in the chorus. It's nothing special, but Father would have been pleased.
"Congratulations, new members of the Opera Populaire! There are stagehands here to direct you to your dressing-rooms. Please gather your things and follow them." As the managers made this announcement, the newly hired chorus members and dancers excitedly collected their shoes, makeup, and costumes and followed the stagehands down the long hall that contained the dressing-rooms.
After spending several moments, with a puzzled expression, looking at a clipboard, an office assistant whispered to the manager. "Sir, we weren't expecting this many new people. We are going to have trouble finding rooms for all of them."
So now, here I am just getting my things situated in my dressing-room and trying to kill time before the next rehearsal. Speaking of my dressing-room, this is a strange place. It is further away from the rest of the chorus and it is set up differently… everything here is older. It appears no one has been here in some time.
Having overheard this statement, La Carlotta (who, being the type of woman to remember past injustices, still held onto a great deal of contempt for poor, little Christine) announced that her dear friend, Christine would probably most appreciate the privacy of a more secluded dressing-room. Specifically, the one room that most of the company would have refused due to the rumors surrounding it.
Naturally, the manager was more than delighted that his Prima Donna would be so helpful as to concern herself in so trivial a manner. It took him little convincing.
I have heard rumors that this room is haunted. I shall have to remember to ask someone about that.
From behind the mirror in the old dressing-room, a dark shadow watched as Christine went about dusting and cleaning the furniture. She began to speak to herself and he listened intently.
"Why thank you, Carlotta! I do love the dressing-room. How kind of you to suggest it. Let me kneel down and lick your shoes in gratitude! Ugly old toad! She's like a spoiled child… a fat, sparkly, feathery, spoiled child," she smiled at her comment.
Something about that voice and that smile made the shadow's breath hitch in his throat. I should go. Don't I have better things to do? No… not really. Maybe a little longer. Her colorful description of that abomination of a lead singer had him chuckling softly.
The strange laughter brought Christine out of her reverie and she immediately stopped her cleaning and listened closer. The sound had disappeared. This place is not really haunted, is it? Christine, you are losing it. The last thing you need right now is to be hearing things.
She approached the mirror, dusting rag in hand. The shadow made to leave, but found he was rooted to his spot. He watched helplessly. Does she see me? Of course she can't see you… the whole point of a two-way mirror is so that you can see them without being seen! What's wrong with you… why do you even care?
Christine shivered; suddenly the temperature of the room seemed to drop dramatically.
She stared into the mirror for a few agonizingly long moments before forming her mouth into an adorable pout and wiping it clean with the dust rag.
"Well, I might as well make the best of it, right? Isn't that what Mamma would say?" she said aloud to herself, "There now, that's better, isn't it?"
It's really not all that bad. It just needs a little love and attention… and a good old-fashion dusting! Perhaps tomorrow I will bring some flowers.
Sincerely,
Christine
