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She awoke lazily as the sun glinted in her eyes. She had just had the most

erotic dream. A man caressed her skin and she felt completely seduced. She

touched the floor with her feet and instantly was overcome with a smell that

both seduced and betrayed her.



Was she still dreaming? That smell was exactly the one of which she had

dreamed. It smelled of smoke and sandalwood, and some other masculine scent.

She felt her head spinning. She looked at the candle and thought it was just

her mind causing her dreams to seem almost real. She stood and opened the heavy

draperies that hung on the window. She looked down and saw a huge garden

beneath. She nearly gasped as it was something she had wanted to plant.



It was a garden of roses, which in itself was a masterpiece, but it had been

neglected. Still, the bushes had an overpowering beauty. The only thing that

struck her as odd was that there was only one color that the flowers held. She

loved the color, an almost blood red color.



How odd, she thought. Why wasn't any other color planted? Out of

the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of a black ribbon. It was tied to a

rose that held the same color. She turned to see it upon the small dresser that

she barely noticed before. She made her way to it. Underneath was a letter

that had a smiling skull upon it. Smiling? Why had she thought that?

It was menacing, and it was, indeed, not smiling. She began trembling

wondering how it could have got there.



She looked about the room. She knew it hadn't been there before because she had

just passed the dresser when she walked toward the window. She saw a slight

movement in the darkness out of the corner of her eye and she tried to focus on

it. She was shaking and scared. She called out, "Who is there?"



No answer. It was quiet. Too quiet. She steadied her nerves and

grabbed the flower in her fingers forgetting the sharp thorns that made up the

beauty of the rose. One of the larger ones pricked her finger and she dropped

it wincing in pain as the blood flowed from her finger. She put it to her mouth

and sucked on the bitter liquid. She thought she heard a sound from behind and

quickly turned to see where it came from. The sound seemed to becoming from a

huge mirror. She walked to it, studying it. She spoke out loud to herself.

"What a beautiful piece of art.” She touched its cool surface and bit her lip

as images of a man entered her mind. He was angry as he looked into the mirror

and cursed the monster within him. She stumbled backward.



The visions had all but stopped. She had withheld the secret from many. It had

been a curse that she had noticed at an early age. She could sense the pains of

others, or other emotions, through objects.



She grabbed the letter and rose and ran from the room. As all the images of her

mind became clear, it held the sorrow and ultimate madness of a man in love. He

almost died of it, and she gasped as the man who held sadness had a white mask

that hid his true beauty from the world. She saw his deformity, and the

realization of the high class society she had become to hate would never accept

him. Her sadness overcame her fear.



She knew that the stories only told the horror of ‘The Demon’. They never told

her of the love he held for another. This was the kind of love that would bring

any being to destruction. She knew all too well of what it could do if not

returned. She looked at her hands and fell to her knees begging for

forgiveness. She had held her own demons and knew that she too had murdered for

a love that ultimately destroyed everything and everyone she loved.



She stood tall once more and decided she would right the wrongs in her life, and

when she died, she would answer for her sins.



She was walking towards the grand stage and stopped to see two women coming

towards her. She smiled, and she was greeted by two smiles as well. The older

of the women was walking with a cane. Her long hair braided, her appearance was

regal and commanding. The little woman beside her was walking with perfect

posture and her blond hair was neatly kept. She had a bow tied tightly to keep

the hair from her face.



As they met in the corridor the older of the two spoke softly. “Hello,

Mademoiselle Garet. I am Madame Giry, and this is my daughter, Meg. We are

here to inquire about obtaining employment in the new Opera House."



I smiled. I was having a turn around. The talent of Madame Giry was spread

across the world, as well as in America. Her daughter had the makings of a

Prima Ballerina. I grabbed their hands and shook them. "I will be honored to

have both of you here. Please, meet with my uncle, and he will discuss your

salaries and all the other details of your employment."