Imperfections

I had always believed that the rumors about the 'phantom' were fake, that he was nothing but a story of the old opera house, the one that burned long ago. Then the mythic theatre was restored simply because the rich had nothing better to do with their money. But now, just as before, the rumors are re-spreading and things are happening that can't be explained. People believe it to be the ghost of the phantom but only because they truly found him to be a man, not ghost nor angel. Flesh and blood, as the rest of us were. If that was the case, then what did they fear of this man? Was he not like the rest of us? Was it only because of a silly imperfection...

I was thinking of the recent appearance of a supposed flaming head. Something the men of the Opera House were talking about. Simply a fiery head, no limbs, no body. Just a head passing by . . . was it the truth or just a lie to keep the tales going.

I heard a knock from my door that pulled me from my thoughts.

"Jayson come, we must hurry. They need the scene as soon as possible," Someone called from outside my door mostly never did anyone enter my room.

"I'm coming!" I yelled in return. I was an artist for the opera popular. I painted the sets. I was the best around you could say, otherwise they wouldn't have had ME to work for them. I walked down the crowded hallways, not caring to talk to anyone at this point in time. Not like they would talk to me, I was an outcast to them after all. I had ended up in this place with no memory of my past; they found that strange. As did they my long raven hair, deep blue eyes and pale skin. Perhaps that was my imperfection. Was I an outcast for only that reason?

I walked into the room filled with people busying themselves with a few finishing touches that had to be done. I only had little things left to do such as outline some of the smaller objects and make some of the bigger things bolder. People were amazed at how fast I could finish these tasks and they still were perfect...or close to it anyway. But just like me, some of my art had its imperfections. But what is perfect in this day not I nor anyone else.

"Jayson," I knew that voice all too well it screamed at me and taunted a number of times before.

"Yes, and what can I do for you today, Mr.Liscke?"I planted a fake smile upon my face, knowing already that he had found something he did not like about my work and that happened all to often with him.

"The heads on the rods in scene three, did you do those?" he asked with a crooked grin, knowing good and well that I had done them. They were fine, this much I knew for certain, but of course why would he make anything easy for me?

"As a matter of fact I did,” I stated simply, not giving in to whatever mind game he was trying to play I wouldn’t give him that satisfaction.

"Well, I need you to get two new heads because the two at the left are awful and need to be redone," his smirk disappeared and turned to aggravation when I smiled.

"I'll get right on that" I turned and finished up on the vase with the design of 2 black horses and a background of a burning palace. I had gotten the 2 new heads and finished painting them. Mr.Liscke hated it whenever I was able to finish something so easily but now I walked back to my room for another dreamless and or sleepless night. How could one sleep at night or dream not knowing where she had come from not to mention the creaking and random noises that went on at night in the opera house... but then again my thoughts always drowned out those noises.