Sample of what I'm working on:
“Come one, come all! Try a free show at the Crystal Theatre and we
guarantee you’ll be in for a treat!” The man was dressed in feathers and gears.
Ali looked in wonder. The man smiled at her and handed her two tickets.
“F-for me?” She stammered.
The man nodded. “The show starts in an hour, lad.”
“B-but I’m no gent, sir. Surely, only the members of the ton can
watch,” she pushed the ticket back to the man.
He shook his head good-naturedly. “No, lad, the Crystal Theatre is
for general public. The Marquee declared it so. You may watch and take a
companion with you,” he pushed back the tickets to her. “Good day!” He walked
around the street announcing the show and giving tickets to other passersby.
Absently, she
caressed the tickets. Can she enter the premises? She did have tickets. But how
will she act inside? If she ran inside, then what? She knew seeing this show
would change her life forever.
While she was deep in thought, she
walked straight into a broad chest. Ali looked up to apologize to the man. It
was a familiar face. “Oh, your grace! I’m terribly sorry.”
Lord Weller smiled. “Well hello, my
little butterfly. What brings you to Battersea Park?”
“I wandered a little too far. I guess I
was distracted,” she shrugged.
“Would you like me to give you a ride
back?” He was clearly worried about her.
She shook her head. “I’ll just walk a
bit more to clear my head.”
He sighed. “I'm not going to judge
where you live. You have my word. It's getting dark. Let me drive you home.”
“I was thinking of seeing a show.” She
showed him her tickets.
“What have you got there?”
“Free tickets. The show is about to
start.”
He frowned. “The Steam Theatre does not
give anything for free.”
She nodded but looked to the imposing
structure beyond. “I've never seen a show before,” she admitted. “I wonder...
what does it look like inside? What are the shows like?”
“I have. The shows in the theatre are
wonderful, like nothing you've ever seen before. The theatre interiors are a world
apart. I have seen other theatres and this is by far the grandest.”
“Really?” She looked down at the
tickets in her hand.
He saw the longing in her eyes. She
really wanted to see the show. “Get in the carriage. Nobody goes to the theatre
on foot.”
Her face lit up. “Oh, thank you! Thank
you!”
***
“Welcome, Monsieur and um...” The man behind the
ticket counter wasn't quite sure how to address Ali. She had dressed as a boy again today. He stared at her for a
long time before the Duke intervened.
The Duke handed her tickets to the
ticket teller. “The lady and I will upgrade to a private box.”
“Oh, no your grace!” Ali tried to
protest but he waved her off.
“A Duke does not sit down in the
general seating area. We sit in a box,” he insisted and paid the man.
They were led to a private box that had
only two seats. The view was center and high up from the rows of seats. Velvet
Curtains lined the walls. The balustrades were gilded. Crystals and pearls
dripped from the chandeliers. The Stage was large, bordered with gilded
carvings and had layers of red curtains.
“It is like a dream,” she breathed.
“It is. I felt the same when I first
came here.” He remembered his own innocent moment. The theatre had beguiled him,
lured him until he sold himself to the Phantom. Even as he enters the theatre
again, he still felt the same awe when he first entered the geared halls.
“Really?”
“Yes, my sweet. I was once young and my
first time in the theatres had overwhelmed me.”
Alison smiled. “I’m glad I’m not making
a fool of myself. I was afraid to go inside.”
“We are private here. Nobody will see
us,” he said. “You may act however you wish.”
“Um,” she said. “Your grace, am I not
dressed for the theatre? People seem so formally dress.” She twisted the
playbill on her lap.
“Well, attending the theatres is a
formal affair,” he pointed to the general crowd below them. They were wearing
formal gowns and black coattails. “We are underdressed for the occasion but do
not worry yourself, my butterfly. We do not know them so their talks will not
affect us,” he admonished. “As I said, I was once a green lad and had lost
myself in the theatre. I too was underdressed during my first visit.” In more
ways than one, he was bare and stripped of garment, status, and shame.
“One day, I shall come back and see
more of this theatre,” she promised more to herself than anything.
“One day, we shall see a show at the
Red Hall. Perhaps a concerto at the Octagon Theatre as well. Those shows boast
a far more extravagant spectacle than this.”
She nodded but not expecting anything.
Lord Weller noted that she must have been disillusioned so many times that she
didn’t want to believe his promises. He decided not to press her. One day, he promised
he will bring her.
The stage dimmed and the curtains parted.
The show was about to start. The first performance was a ballet. The man in
white feathers was graceful and elegant. The second performer was a singer. He
sang one long and haunting ballad. His costume consisted of a gilded doublet and
a gossamer cape that billowed around him. The final performer was a violinist
with a mechanical arm. When the curtain closed, the show had ended. Ali and
Lord Weller went out to the main lobby.
People were milling about, some were
entering the drinks room for cocktails. As they went through, gents he knew
came to talk to the Duke. He turned to talk to them. Soon, he was pulled from one
conversation to another.
“My dear Lord Weller,” an imposing lady
called the Duke.
“One moment, my butterfly, I shall be
right back.” He looked up and smiled at the lady. “Lady Delia, how are you?”
“Ashton, we simply must get together!” Delia,
the lady, was tall, in a beautiful silk green taffeta gown that Ali knew she
would never afford. Her face was artfully rouged. Pearls and gems dipped from
her ears and neck. Ali could see this lady was wealthy. Delia pouted and clung
on to the Duke’s arm. She then pulled the Duke’s arm and led him away from the
crowd.
The Duke waved to Ali to wait. She
nodded and stayed on the sides. She tried to make herself as inconspicuous as possible.
***
The Duke was preoccupied. As the crowds thickened,
Ali decided to wander the galleries. There were brass statues that seem to move
and dance. She watched the human-like brass appendages move and sway. A small
automaton chugged its way to her and offered her some sweets. She took some and
found the confectionery delicious. She snacked to her heart's content
forgetting her worries even for a moment.
“Ali?” Someone called to her. “What are
you doing here?”
Ali looked to the man approaching her.
She frowned. “Octavius?” It was him. Of course, it was him. He’d have enough
money and status to come and go into the theatre as he pleased. She began to
panic. “I was… Um, I was accompanying a friend... of my employer,” she lied. Octavius,
her former friend and neighbor walked up to her. He was a man with a good
physique, not too tall, not too short, had light brown hair and his skin was as
smooth as marble. But Ali never was attracted to him. She knew her place in the
world. She just thought she shared a friendship with him and Princess.
Apparently, she had a rude awakening.
“Well, well, well! I
could hardly believe it! It is Ali, a little tomboy Alison! So where do you work?” He pressed. “Do you work
here?”
“No, I work for a Duke's household.” It
wasn’t quite true but not quite false. She was working for a Duke. “I'm a lowly errand boy,” she added.
He eyed her. She was still wearing her
boy outfit. “Does he know what you are?”
“Should it matter? I work. That is all
that matters.” She knew what he meant. Her breasts were developing and that
meant she could no longer hide what she was.
He laughed and leaned in closer. “Same
Ali-cat.”
She shook her head. “I’m not the same, Octavius.”
“No, you’re still the same,” he
smirked. “So, where are you staying?”
She shrugged. “Why and what for?” She
didn't want to tell him. As far as she knew, their association was over.
He leaned even closer, trying to sniff
her or catch a kiss. “I missed you, Ali. It's been weeks since we saw each
other.”
“You were the one who closed the door,
Octavius,” she reminded him. “You left me out in the rain.”
He frowned. “My father was coming home.
I can't have you around the house, now could I?”
“So, you won't. Please, I have to go
back to the Duke now.” Ali always hated that he was so condescending. He made
her feel like she was a scum who had to be reminded of her place. She left him,
walking back to the main lobby.
He trailed after her. “What's the
hurry? I thought old friends should catch up.”
“Leave me be, Octavius. We are not
friends, not anymore. You wanted to end our association. Why are you trying to
talk to me now?”
“I missed you. Maybe we can meet now
and again.”
She shook her head. “I don't think so.”
“Don't be in a hurry to throw our friendship
away.”
“Again, you were the one in a hurry to
throw it away. Now, I don't want Princess to see us together, especially since your
engagement party.” With an official engagement party, it was now official that
the Baronet Claire’s son was engaged to a wealthy heiress.
“You know about the engagement party?”
He sounded surprised.
“At the Cogs and Spoon? Yes, I know
about the engagement. So please, for Princess sake, leave me be!” Ali walked
away and headed to the Grand Lobby. There were people there so Octavius would
have to behave himself.
He made a grab for her, catching her
arm in a bruising grip. She tugged away but Octavius was determined to drag her
into the shadows. “Let go, Octavius! Princess might see us!”
“No, she won’t,” he sang. “She’s at her
house dutifully planning our wedding.”
She struggled, determined to get away. Octavius’
arms were forceful and strong. They were bruising her skin. Ali began to panic.
She didn’t want to cause a scene, afraid to draw attention to herself. “Stop!
You’re hurting me!” He was dragging her into a shadowy part of the hall. Suddenly,
she was being pulled away and thrust into the light. A tall man had Octavius hanging
by his neck.
“There will be no trouble in my
theatre,” the tall man intoned.
“No trouble here,” Octavius gasped when
he recognized the man. “The chit and I were just talking.”
The man eyed Octavius. His glowing red
eyes seemed to see the truth in him. “Scram, boy.” He let Octavius go and he
scurried away in fright.
Alison breathed in relief. But now she
was alone with the tall stranger with red eyes. She shuddered in fright.
“What a succulent morsel! This little
moth has wandered into my parlor. Comment
allez-vous, ma petite?” He took her hand and kissed it before helping her
up.
She looked up to see the tall man. He was
wearing a long billowing cloak and had a mechanical mask. Cogs and other parts
were busy at work. She gasped, afraid of him.
“Don't be afraid. It is only my
automatic parts. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Exter Bricomman, the
manager and caretaker of the Steam Theatre.”
“G-good eve, sir. You have a wonderful
theatre,” she gave a lopsided curtsy. “Thank you for getting Octavius off me.”
“Such impeccable manners.” He extended
his arm and she put her hand around it. He guided her around the hall. Ali was
uncomfortable. She had always tried to act like a boy but she was naturally
feminine. As she grew, it was getting more prominent.
“I was a shop boy, sir,” she answered.
“Shop boy?” His monotonous voice
sounded confused.
“Um, I um...” She didn't know how to
explain it to him.
“So, that is the reason for the strange
garb.” He eyed her vest and breeches. “And now you are with Lord Weller. How interesting...”
She fidgeted where she stood, not
knowing how to act while being scrutinized by his glowing red eye. The way he
intoned interesting sounded ominous
but it wasn’t how he said interesting that had her shuddering. It was the way
he mentioned Lord Weller’s name. This man was the famed Phantom of the Steam
Theatre. It was said he was half mechanical. She couldn’t believe he was
talking to her.
“What is mademoiselle's name?” He asked
her.
“A-Alison,” she answered.
“Interesting. Did you enjoy the show,
Alison?”
She nodded. “Yes, very much, sir.”
He nodded and smiled at her. “Lovely.
Do you sing? Your voice is melodious.” She saw his face clearly. It was no mask
but small gears ticking on his cheeks. His face and arms were clearly
mechanical. She wondered what else?
“Y-yes.”
“Would you like to come work for me?
The theatre has many generous patrons and guardians that keep boys like those
away.” He showed her a painting of a theatre scene. She looked closely. It
seems to be an ordinary painting, except the painting seemed to be moving. Mesmerized,
she watched the scene in the painting come to life. It was a stage play of some
sort.
“I thank you for entertaining my
friend, monsieur, but it is beneath
you to poach talents,” Lord Weller interrupted. He came up behind Ali and was
scowling at the man. Just like that, the spell seemed broken and she gasped
when Lord Weller grabbed her and pulled her to his side.
“Is it?” Monsieur Bricomman dared. “Lovely
to see you again, Ashton Weller.”
The Duke frowned. He clearly was not
pleased to see Ali in the company of the mechanical man. “Bid your farewells,
Ali. We must head home. The hour is quite late.”
“Of course, your grace.” She turned to
the mechanical man. “A good evening, sir. It was a pleasure to make your
acquaintance.”
The mechanical man smiled. “The
pleasure is all mine, Alison.”
The Duke all but pulled Ali away. He
marched her down the hall and navigated her around the crowded staircase. They
exited the building and waited for his carriage to arrive. It came out promptly
and drove them away from the theatre.
“That man! He should not have spoken to
you.” He was clearly angry.
“Um, why not? He was being friendly.”
“Decorum, my little butterfly. You are
in the company of a Duke. He should wait for me to introduce you.” The laced
his gloves tighter, angry at the encounter in the theatre.
“Would you have introduced us?”
“No,” he admitted. “Monsieur Bricomman
is called the Phantom of the Steam Theatre for a reason. He is a monster, a dangerous
man. Just because he deals in entertainment, people forget he used to and still
deal in arms for the Marquee de Chats. He beguiles people, lulls them in the
theatre then uses them for his own purpose.”
“I'm sorry, your grace. It was at my
insistence that we entered the theatre.” She felt bad for bringing this tension
to the Duke.
“No, you did not force me. I was a
willing participant. Please be careful, my little Ali. He can take lives when
he pleases and it is so much worse than death,” he shuddered.
“I don’t understand.” What could be
worse than death?
Lord Weller shook his head. “That man
is a creature capable of destroying everything in its path. Never let your
guard down if you encounter him again. His red eye can hypnotize you, make you
do things you didn’t want to.”
“Yes, my lord,” she frowned but nodded.
“It’s just… well, he rescued me from a bloke who was bothering me.”
“Did he now?”
“I didn’t want to seem ungrateful for
his help.”
He shook his head. “No, to be rude to
the Phantom is equally as dangerous. If you do not hold enough sway, he could
take anything and everything from you.”
She frowned. “Did he take something of
yours?”
“No,” was all he answered.
The sped through the streets of Neo
Industrial London. It was as if they were speeding away from Battersea. He
turned away, refusing to answer. The streets of Neo Industrial London were
quite a sight at night. Street lamps lit each corner and street sign.
Establishments had lit signs of their own.
“I do not think I belong in
your world or any world,” she admitted.
