Birth of a Phantom

"Not one more day," she muttered to herself, a mantra that she'd been repeating all day. Today was supposed to be the day of her grand recital, everyone was gathered in the rows of theater seating below. They were expecting her to be backstage going through her final warm-ups right now, not scaling the rigging of the opera house, five stories above the heirloom church organ she was supposed to play.

That organ. Every day that passed that organ ate up more of her life. She vaguely recalled a time when she was little, when there was still room in her life for friends and games and toys. A time when her parents' love wasn't dependant on what private music academy she could get into, when they'd still look her in the eye after hitting a wrong note. All that was gone now, sacrificed for more time practising her scales, memorizing sheets of music. Every day older she got, the tests and auditions got more frequent. Eventually, she was sure, life would become one long unending recital with no room for cracking a joke or a pun, forever trapped under the microscope of her parents' and teachers' critical, unforgiving gazes.

When was the last time she'd smiled? When had she LAUGHED? She hated the person she was becoming. And there was only one way to make sure the transformation would never be complete. She would erase that girl and leave no gravestone to mark her passing, that stiff and humorless organist that had taken her childhood away. She didn't want to be that girl, she'd rather be a nameless phantom.

The audience below gasped when someone spotted her dangling precariously from the ceiling. She could hear their cries of concern, calling out to her to come down before she hurt herself. She could hear them pleading for her to reconsider, lying that she had so much to still to live for. But she knew different; the only thing that tomorrow held was the promise of more responsibilities and restriction.

"Not one more day," she repeated. "NOT ONE MORE DAY!"

The sounds of their screams of horror was sweeter than any music she'd ever played before. She swung carelessly from the rigging, prolonging her plunge to savor their shock and impotent outrage. They couldn't touch her now! There could be no punishments, no lost privileges after tonight. Let them scream! Let them gasp and faint!

"Hahahaha! Eeeeheheheheeee! Oho, ho ho hahaha!"

If felt so good to LAUGH! No stern look from her father or disapproving frown from her mother could make her stop. She stooped low, the blood rushing to her face and choking off her hysterical laughter into a cracking screech.

With some difficulty she sucked a deep lungful of air back into her chest. Her diaphragm fought her, her ribs attempting to clench into sobs. No, no this was a happy day and she wouldn't cry. This was the happiest day of her life. The tears streaming down her face were tears of joy, she was sure of it.

She threw her head backwards and let the pain disappear. All that remained was that joyous feeling of being lighter than air, like a helium balloon. She'd had a balloon like that once. Her friends had shown her how to suck the gas out to make her voice go all high and squeaky. Back when she'd had friends.

"Hee hee hee! HeeheeheeheeheheHEEHEHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAAAAA~! HAAA HAAA HAAAAAAaaaa~!"

She was floating now, like that balloon. Suspended in thin air, no longer troubled by mortal worries. The air rushed through her hair, a cool caress across her cheeks. She couldn't hear the screams of the opera house, couldn't remember that awful life she'd been forced to endure. She had no name now, no cares.

Finally, she was at peace. When it came she never even felt the impact of the opera stage or the organ collapsing around her shattered body.