The pavement was speckled with chewed gum, long since trodden over and worked into the very cement it rested upon in a pattern that suggested many years of entertainment. The randomly discarded pieces lay so neatly upon the cement that it almost appeared as though a pattern had been intended all along. Her footsteps echoed briefly in the hollow of the building as she walked toward the doors. Her coat hugged her tightly, keeping out the chill in the air and closing her ears to the silence around her. She reached a hand to grasp the door and gave a short tug, entering into the warm emptiness of the building. She loosened the coat from about her, nodding as she passed by the janitor. He looked up only briefly, acknowledging her presence in the dark of the school with a curt nod before returning to his duty. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a set of keys. She stopped in front of a set of iron doors and turned the lock, entering into the dark room confidently. She did not bother to turn on the lights, but instead set her purse on a chair and took off her coat. Setting in gently on her chair, she took a deep breath and slowly walked onto the platform in front of the room. Slowly, she lifted her head to the ceiling and closed her eyes, inhaling all the scents of the theatre through her senses. She opened her eyes and looked to the booth, a faint smile painting her lips as waves of tranquility washed over her. Around her, lights clicked on, bathing her in multiple shades of gelled colors. Her smile broadened, and she chanced the sound of her voice.

"Hello." She nearly whispered, looking up into the booth. Her smile broadened, and she swept gracefully across the stage. She twirled and danced in and out of the lights, casting an occasional glace into the cats in hopes of seeing the mysterious haunter, but nothing came. Her dance slowed into a calming walk around the stage, and she once more took up center position.

"You know, my dream is to be here." she spoke into the empty audience. "You realize that, don't you?" she called louder. She silenced herself; then took a deep breath. "I understand you enjoy music..." she murmured. Her voice was soft as she began to sing, but the auditorium carried it well, singing back echoing harmonies to her music as she ran through song after song. Finally, when her vocal cords ached so that she could hardly sing another note, she strained her ears to listen. In the depths of her memory she heard it, the soft buzz of applause. She cast her eyes downward and blushed, then dipped into a swift curtsy before standing straight again and speaking. She laughed, a sound that changed as frequently as the seasons but remained pure in the soul of the theatre. She launched into every monologue she had ever done, from Shakespeare to Thornton Wilder. Her arms open to the emotions that flooded her veins, her heart open to the passion of the words she spoke so vigorously. She poured all of her emotions into her words, letting the feelings she never expressed move her across the empty stage in fits of poetic passion. Her heart beat in her breast to a haunting rhythm in her soul as she spoke and danced and sang. It no longer mattered what words escaped her lips, what notes were carried on her breath, or what movement her body made. She was whole; she was one with her surroundings. Her eyes closed in blissful energy as she felt her spirits soar high. Beyond the catwalks, above the booth, behind the curtains. Her passion filled the theatre. In her eyes, the audience cheered her on, the lights played frantically across her body, the scent of adoration tantalized her senses as she danced wildly across the stage, coming to a sudden halt in center once more and casting a longing glance into her fourth wall, took a breath and began to speak once more.

It finally ended, her energy spent and her spirits high. She made her final bow, and gathered her belongings from the chair. Slowly, she made her way back into the dressing rooms. She turned on the lights, letting the coolness of the new environment slow her beating heart and numb her skin, wet with perspiration. She reached into her purse and retrieved a single rose, a pure white tinted with red. She placed it by a picture on the shelves with loving gentleness. Her eyes fluttered over the familiar words.

"Edwin, Theatre Ghost and Protector." Her lips tugged into a smile again, and she turned to leave. As the lights fluttered back into darkness, her words still lingered in the air.
"I hope you liked the show, Edwin. Stay with me, keep my spirit strong."

With that, she left through the side door and the theatre was empty once more.


High in the cats, behind the scrim and below the curtain, a ghostly set of eyes twinkled and transparent lips smiled. He would show himself, as he would to all his favorites, but not quite yet. Not quite yet. She still had so much room to grow, and he would nurture that for as long as he could.