Opera

(Author's Note: Before reading, free your mind from what makes sense. Simply let the words fill into your heart, not your mind. All that is about to happen is what it is. There are many underlying tales in my words, but to understand, you cannot try to find meaning in every sentence. Sometimes, things don't need explanations. They just are.)

Preface: Elizabeth

One would say that if you past the Church streets where carriages would crowd in unsettling traffic and horses neighed with disquieted fear and curiousity, there lay a building with a  minute facade, but held a adamant theater beneath each chipped shingle. There had been many a thought of what lay between the floorboards, mystery and stories that ears could not hear, yet those who worked it's dusted halls and danced upon it stage knew of it all, knew of the opera house's fantasies, of its truths and lies.

There had been a time where there had been nought a man who had travelled from afar to see this stationed home of actors who were charlatans of their craft, perfect visionaries of unbelievable creatures who walked on the Earth that even some who postulated would claim to see such unimagineable beings. No, not a soul amongst the boundaries of the small country had not trekked to this theater in search of requited love, lost passions, or simple pleasure. The words, music, and dance brought tears, smiles, and laughs for all, as it had for hundreds of years.

Beneath it's red, felt curtains, it was much more that a building full of actors and pretenders. Of dancers who spoke with their bodies and musicians whose words where nought from the mouth, as their strings crafted sentences to all's imagination. It was a home, a family of unaging children that had not yet learned of the truth of their plays, operas, and wonted kingdom. Those who's hearts had all but been closed and hidden from the eyes, as if you were not of the opera, you could not name the actors, or recall the plays, and the music would never be a tune in your mind. As you released the stories from your mind upon dispersing the Opera House, it was just a dream forgotten.

Once, it had been the same for I, a girl but bound with homely responsibilty on a farm with no escape but to be wedded and stolen into a population of wives who could only bear children and care for a home. It was many years my fate had been written, to be married to a certain Hamshire boy, a mason of craft. Yet, I did not love him, as my heart was tied to one thing alone. It was upon taking my first step into the Opera House that I would forever be bound by string to it's music, it's tales, it's life. I felt it as I sat in the red, velvet seats. I felt it as I first smiled at the words, "Séduction douce, je vous conduirai," in an actor's silk song that my soul stood, stepping to his podium upon the stage and caressed his face. It was then that I was forever bound to this...

What would it be called but a home, a hell that you could not remember. A heaven to those who came and heard not of the whispers that called just a selected few. As I could fondly remember, I danced to the ballad of the orchestra that's strings terminal song was of woe and desperation, a call to those who would grasp to them for release. Yet, all who were stringed to the Opera House knew their fates, as no one ever aged, no one would die, and no one would remember our faces. We could not leave, and no one could save us.

I knew that the moment I danced upon the stage, grasped tightly in Armondo's arms as he whispered sweet nothings in a language I could not recall, yet I spoke it, too, and understood it's meaning. I was a puppet in his hands as I soared, the wind of our twirl avoiding my cursed face. "Venez à moi. Laissez votre côté sombre donnent po Venez à moi, mon amour." My voice, shrill and charming, spoke, as I stared among the crowd as I spun on my toes, lifting my leg into the air in a perfect stance. I saw his eyes, his beady, hollow irises caressing my skin with a lust unknown to me, my breath caught in my throat, even as I still sung of my love, Armondo, as he departed from the stage in the arms of his brother, leaving my heart to break.

I grasped my heart, a pitiless item and swayed left, then right, staring not to the crowd before me, but his envious eyes and felt tears unwritten in the play fall down my cheeks as I fell to the floor, eyes forever open. The poor boy, who I knew nothing about then, would never leave. The way he grabbed for me with his soul, I knew then, this would be his fate. My fault. He would be stuck here... My fault. No. I begged. Not him, this innocent boy who knew not of what he wished for. I lay desolate and cold, staring to the crowd with unblinking eyes as my savior, a god, pulled me from the stage in his bionical arms and took me from it hard, crafted floor.

Yet, I still stood on the stage, soul stilted. My fingers were grasped in his, but he did not realize he left his body in the world behind him. It stood, leaving him here, forever bound. The skin he once clung to exited the doors, and now? He could not leave. "I apologize." I whispered into his cold ear as I took him from the stage, took him from his once beautiful home, one that I hated but now longed for. I was greedy, and this was my punishment. Though, now?

I saw no future. Not for me, or him.

Chapter 1: Jude

I had always dreamed of the mountains, the way they rose above the clouds, covered in snow, and cared not of the world beneath. I longed to lived the way they effortlessly had done, noble, strong and defiant. But, what chance could I when I was but a traveller in a disconcerting world, learning not how to play with my toys and socialize, but how to beg for money in crumbled towns and play music to entertain for a common nickel. It had been this way for as long as I could remember, yet I did not ever elude my positive behavior, never did I stray to easy release in this unforgiving world.

The day was young, and nobles had pitied my dirt-stricken skin and bathed me in pennies that could fill my stomach for the week, but as I walked along the carriaged road, breathing in the fumes from the dirt afloat, I suddenly realized I stood outside the bleak, wooden door. Whether I had lost the consciousness that currently pulled at my eyes or fate tied me to this fabled path, I couldn't help feel my pocket for the twenty-five cents I had recieved and placed them into the hand of the ticket man. I covered my empty pocket, lips gnawed in strange confusion. My only possessions, those pennies and my violin, now departed from each other.

I shivered as I entered the hall, the room enlarging so heavenly, I couldn't help but show my amazement with my mouth hung to the floor, that I hardly noticed the gasps, glares, and scoffs of the upperclass pride. I took my seat, smiling like the child I never was.

Dancers streamed across the stage as the music flared, constant choruses of beauty and mystic. I stifled the yawns my body begged to give from restless sleeps and clapped as the introduction had long since ended. The best thing about the opera was not the men who wore their best clothing and tried to keep their eyes and ears open even as they could not recall the language or describe the dance, or the woman swatting their fans in their face as they blushed at the pure lust between the dancers. It was not the humorous to see the glazed eyes of the drunk attendees, of all of the crowd within the room. I was most interested in a certain dancer, though I did not know her name, I knew I craved her.

A feeling that I had yet to understand in my short existence among the shivered world and plagued life. But, understand, I did, and at that moment, she reached her hand towards my own, my outstretched fingers licking her own in a hurried need, a sudden lust I could not justify. I could step away, leave this theater of sirens and gods, but my feet were long since plastered to her soul, long since stolen from me. I no longer felt these eyes shadowed by the world, wonted existence given to me like childish sweets. I never turned my head as I left my body, left that world behind. To my back, my violin and my skin; all I owned, stripped away. Yet, I found no disgust, no underlying depression. Happiness was a flood of emotion inside the small heart I owned. To give myself away to be wanted, to be needed, to be loved. It was worth it, then.

Maybe, it still is.

Chapter 2: Elizabeth

Behind the curtains, away from the city people, hidden from the living, was the life of our family. Each dysfunctional birth that by some outerworldly happenstance appeared here was what made our bonds so strong. There were no secrets, no differences, no fears. A perfect, unforgiving tale, for what was a life but a mystery with differences and hidden truths. So, this was no life at all, as I so long believed.

This child, who was no coward and everything but greedy, was, however, a sudden incline to my world. A dent of a curious future, a listless notion of my greed. I led him away, behind the scarlet curtains, where no eye of a human saw and he stared in amazement. It was no oridinary opera house, as you should have already guessed. Absurdly, I was sure he never did.

Even the floorboards could not help but dance in this extraordinary room, this place of magic and thrill. It was a prison of enjoyment and happiness, yet none wanted this. Child's play for the grown, yet no child set foot on this ground. Except, maybe, him.

(To be continued---)