The Opera House

By

R.J. Quilantan

In the early 1900s, in the small town of Ralston, Oklahoma, deep into the night, Grace Maxwell jolted upright from her sleep, drenched in sweat, gripping her blanket frantically as her life depended on it. She sat still for a moment, matching her breath to her heart thundering, thinking of the nightmare she just had: falling into an abyss, swallowed by a warm, blinding light. When her pulse slowed, she looked out of the window, trying to clear her mind. With trembling hands, she smoothed the bed sheets, and as she was getting ready to go back to sleep, Grace’s eyes landed on the little boy standing quietly in the shadows, waiting, as he always did. 

Young Grace, a beautiful child, was part of a wealthy but secretive family that had fallen to accusations of being ‘ungodly’ by the townsfolk. It was rumored that Grace Maxwell's parents, Arthur and Mary Maxwell, came from generations of people with occult abilities.

When the townspeople found out that young Grace was also ‘different,’ she was not the exception; she was branded as unholy. For her, it all started when word got out that she could see and communicate with her old babysitter, Catherine, but had passed away from tuberculosis not so long ago. Then there were the Joneses, a family with a young boy, Jaime, and their servants who had lived there before the Maxwells showed up. The Joneses perished when the house caught on fire in the summer of 1905.

At first, Grace was confused about her ability, but in time she learned to embrace her gift and to enjoy the company of the departed. She befriended the spirits of Ralston and learned all the town's secrets and the secrets of its people. To the townsfolk, her gift was blasphemous, and no child or adult dared to come near her. She was in total solitude, so the ghosts and her parents became her only friends.    

As word of her astonishing gift reached other towns, shamans and witches often came to Grace’s home, ready with their tarot cards and crow feathers, to speak with her parents and offer their services to train her and further develop her gift. But her parents, in fear that Grace would be treated as an outcast for the rest of her life, refused all offers. Too much attention was drawn to her, so she was homeschooled and secluded from society. A normal day for a young girl was a rarity for her. But there was one special thing in Ralston that made the loneliness fade away. Grace and her parents would frequently attend the Opera House. It had no name, simply the Opera House. It was modest in size but had an elegant glow. It was compact yet cozy. As soon as she was seen in public, people would look at her and point. But the company of those who passed away walked beside her, giving her strength and comfort.

Every time a performance began, Grace’s attention was on the stage; fixated on the showmanship, she watched in awe alongside the ghosts and her family, believing in the illusion that there were others just like her. 

                                                                       II

Over time, Grace became one of the most beautiful women in Ralston and attracted many bachelors. Many showed up at her home, lined up with flowers and smiles, but her parents swayed them away, regarding these young men with shallow intent and hollow morals. Grace was not bothered by their decision; she felt confident. Ralston had rejected her, and now she rejected Ralston. 

With winter approaching, the weather became cruel. The days grew shorter, the light thinner with a cold wind that bit away your cheeks. On a dusky evening, an unexpected knock echoed through the Maxwell home. A young, attractive stranger stood on their doorstep, shivering in his long coat. He was a traveler from Louisiana who went by the name of Hex seeking a place to rest before continuing his journey. All the hotels were occupied, and no one from Ralston would take him in. He arrived in a horse-and-wagon filled with vials of snake oil, jars of various herbs, and odd trinkets. He presented himself as a successful roaming medicine man and a devout servant of the lord on a mission and offered to pay for one night's lodging. Seeing the young man's poor condition, Grace’s family allowed him to stay. 

That evening, Hex dined with the Maxwells, basking in the glow of the candlelight. “I thank the grace of the Lord that I have ended up in your lovely town of Ralston safely, " as he raised his glass. “The Holy Father will bless you for your kindness and hospitality.”

“You’re most welcome.” Said Arthur. “Where else do you plan to go on your travels?”

“I aim to travel west, doing the Lord’s work, helping those who are sick, strange, and lost.”

“Which people do you usually help in your journey?” asked Mary.

“I help those poor souls who are different from us, the ones doctors won't touch; they’re marked as freaks, possessed, or sometimes cursed. They’re sick, straight to the core, and I yank that sickness out, cleansing the body of their demons.” 

“I see … interesting.” Said Arthur with caution. “And do you enjoy this line of work?” 

“Well, sir, life on the road is not meant for everyone. If I were to tell you what it took for me to come here, what I’ve seen, you’d not believe me. No, sir, it’s a jungle out there filled with delusions and temptations. I pray that the Lord continues to guide me on the right path.”

Grace sat silently, her plate untouched, as the candlelight flickered against her pale skin. Her attention was focused elsewhere. She could see and hear the spirits around her having their own discussion, and some even hovered over Hex, observing him.

Hex’s words pulled her back to the dinner conversation. “What do you think, Grace?” 

An unexpected passion arose in her. “If being different offends you, that’s your problem, not theirs.”

“After what I’ve seen, you’d think differently. I believe one’s naivety can misguide rightful judgment.”

“And I believe pretentiousness and ignorance dressed in scripture is the way of the fool.”

“Grace! –“Interjected Mary. 

Grace cleared her throat. “If I may be excused.” Silence gravitated around the table as Grace rose and went upstairs.

Hex cleared his throat. “I do apologize if I offended your daughter.”

“It’s all right.” Replied Arthur. “She’s not used to speaking with strangers, and we’re very protective of her.”

“As is your right, sir.”

“You see, Hex.” Arthur continued. “She is different from the other girls here in Ralston.”

 Hex leaned forward. “Please elaborate, different how?”

“She has this power,” said Mary gently. “The townspeople have been cruel to our little girl because they don’t understand.” Her voice started to crackle. 

“I see. This is quite the surprise.” Said Hex. “Tell me more about this power, I’m curious.” 

The conversation continued late into the evening as the Maxwells shared the details of Grace’s ability and its consequences.

“I feel and understand your frustration, Mr. and Mrs. Maxwell.” Said Hex. “I genuinely do. It’s without doubt that the Lord guided me to your home. What your daughter can do it’s … not natural, no wonder she’s suffered.

“If we were to ask you …, do you think you could … – “

“Cure her?” Hex smiled. “Of course, within my belongings, I have created a special tonic that purges such abnormalities and can turn your lovely Grace into a normal daughter within a month. All she has to do is drink it.

“Name your price.” Said the father.

“Well, it ain’t that easy, sir; now, this tonic is a treatment that a professional, like myself, must administer. If there were any side effects without my examination, there could be consequences and your girl at risk.”

“Then how much for you to stay until my daughter is cured? If you need to stay longer, then so be it. Just name your price.”

“Sir, I have other places to be, other souls to tend to.”  

“Name your price.” Repeated the father.

Hex reached into his vest, withdrew a small journal, tore a page, and scribbled on it. He folded it in half and handed it to Arthur. 

Arthur opened it and scoffed. “You cannot be serious?”

“Is there a price for the peaceful life you desire for your daughter?”

Mary picked the paper from Arthur’s fingers and read it. “Fine. You have a deal.”

“Sir?” Hex looked at Arthur. 

Arthur rose from his chair and extended his hand. “We have a deal.”

Both men shook hands. “Would you mind making it into a legal contract?” Asked Hex.

“You’ll have it by tomorrow.” Replied Arthur.

“I have another question.” Added Hex. “As I’m now staying, where would be my room?”

Grace listened to the conversation in the dining room from the second floor. 

“What do you think will happen?” asked Jaime as he leaned over Grace’s shoulder. “He smells like blood, you know.”

“I don’t like him, Jaime. I need you to inform the others and keep an eye on him.” Murmured Grace.

“We will, Grace. Be careful.” The boy vanished, and she continued to overhear the conversation about how Hex planned to cure her. She sat there frozen, the voices blurred into murmurs, the air grew thin around her as her nails marked her palms with crescent-shaped moons.

III

During the winter, the tonics and the ill-tasting concoctions Hex cooked up were not strong enough to change Grace. So alternative methods were applied, Grace’s room was turned into a laboratory where Hex used leeches and electrotherapy on her. These treatments caused her to vomit and her skin to break regularly. Her parents wanted to stop these experiments, but Hex insisted he was getting closer to the cure.

He was right. Grace could barely identify the ghosts anymore, only hearing their muffled warnings and cries fading into the abyss. In her weakened state, all she could do was smooth the pain by caressing her arms covered with red pokes from the needles and bite marks from the leeches as she slowly passed out. The experiments continued more aggressively, with greater pain and pressure added. As a result, Grace could no longer see or hear her ghosts, leaving her in a catatonic state.

It was a harsh winter, and both Arthur and Mary had caught the flu. As their illness became more severe, Hex started treating them as well. The medication given to them made them delusional, and their condition worsened. One evening, Grace began to break from her paralysis and regain movement. She mustered the strength to walk through the halls looking for her parents. After a great struggle with her legs trembling and sweat running down her face, she made it to her mother’s room. Like a hammer landing on her chest, she saw her in bed, motionless with lifeless eyes wide open. Grace stood frozen, refusing to understand what she was seeing. In the same room, her father sat slumped in his armchair, unfocused, drifting somewhere between sleep and death. Then there was Hex, who sat next to Arthur Maxwell.

“There we are.” He murmured. “Much easier this way.”

Hex guided Arthur's hand as he held a pen to sign a piece of paper.

“Don’t worry, you’ll still be useful, for now.”

Grace barged into the room, but before she could say anything, she started to feel faint and fell to the floor with tears in her eyes. 

IV

On a cloudy day, Grace stood amongst the mourners in the cemetery, her face hidden beneath a black veil. To her surprise, the crowd was larger than she expected. She watched their solemn faces and wondered: were these the same people who had criticized her and called her unholy? Were they really mourning? Or pleased to see them gone?

The priest's voice faded into the crowd as he quoted a passage from the Bible. Grace glanced at Hex, who was now her husband. He stood next to her, showing no emotion, staring at an invisible point.  She trembled as the priest concluded the final prayers for her parents. Reading their names etched onto the old stone made tears run down her face as she tried to maintain her composure. Wanting to hold them again, she reminisced about better days.

“It’s time to go.” Said Hex.

“I would like to stay long –“

“I said we’re leaving now.” Affirmed Hex aggressively.

Grace felt his fingers digging into her arm as she was dragged through the cemetery. She knew people stared; they all whispered, and no one intervened. 

By marrying Grace, Hex had control of the house and the family’s wealth and properties. He dismissed the housekeepers who had cared for Grace since her infancy. In their place, new servants were hired, but they only answered to Hex and ignored Grace. By gaining access to her family’s vast fortune, Hex invested in his inventions and antidotes. From tonics, Grace was taking tablets that numbed her. She was a stranger in her house, forced to host the people who called her foul names and criticized her. She felt the crushing weight of fury and despair, a quiet storm of helplessness, for all she could do was witness Hex’s hedonistic life of luxury, indulgence and endless parties.

V

One spring morning, Grace headed towards the general store in downtown. Looking through the old, murky windows, a large crowd gathered with excitement in front of the Opera House. She observed with curiosity as she made her way to the counter to pay.

“I reckon it’s that new troupe coming off the train from Colorado.” Said the store clerk as he was charging her.

There were rumors that one of the entertainers had a very special act, something seen and experienced by only a few, to which some called unworldly.

“I wouldn’t know much about performers.” Continued the clerk. “I’m more of a church man myself. You should go over there and see for yourself. But be careful of those outsiders; you never know what trouble they can bring.”

“Thank you.” She exited the store and walked towards the growing crowd, determined to get a better view of what was happening. She squeezed herself to the very front with the sun in her eyes. Then, there was the ringmaster, Harold Fitzgerald, the man who was stirring all the commotion, front and center, promoting tonight’s act.

For a moment, Grace stood transfixed. She wanted to stay longer, but the weight of the thought of him waiting for her made her return home.

When she arrived, the news of the travelling troupe had already reached Hex. The moment he heard mention of a performer with unnatural abilities, he felt it was his righteous duty to expose the blasphemous creatures. That evening, when the sky bruised, Grace was ordered to get ready. She obeyed; she knew better than to question him.

“Tonight, we go to the Opera House.” Said Hex. “I want to see this demon for myself.” Grace hesitated as he led her through the door.

Rumbling along the dusty road in their buggy, under the starry night, the opera house was illuminated from a distance like a beacon in the dark, alluring the townsfolk. As they approached the main entrance, Grace felt the golden lights cascading over her, bringing back warm memories. Hex and Grace entered and walked up the narrow, luminous staircase to the ticket booth. There was only the top floor, but what the opera house lacked in size, it made up for in detail and beauty. As Grace and Hex made their way to the front row, the stage lights casted a bright golden glow, reflecting the posters of previous acts that adorned the walls.

They arrived just in time before the show began. Soon, the lights dimmed, and people in the audience hushed one another as they grew eager for the show to start. In the background, a loud drumroll could be heard.

“Fine people of Ralston! Thank you for being with us tonight! It is our pleasure to be here!”

The backdrop rose to reveal Harold bowing graciously towards the crowd, he wore a velvet jacket and was holding a top hat and a cane. He straightened his back and started walking to the front of the stage. 

“Ladies and gentlemen! Boys and girls!” His voice boomed through the opera house. “It is my distinct honor to welcome you all tonight. My name is Harold Fitzgerald! And we are the Bighorn Travelling Troupe! And it is our absolute pleasure to be in your lovely town!” The crowd erupted in applause and whistles, stirred by his roaring enthusiasm. The audience was locked in. “Thank you, you are all far too kind!” He grinned, spinning around his cane. “Hang on to your seats, for this, my friends, is no ordinary performance. Tonight, you will experience the strange, the beautiful, the impossible. I bring you the most extravagant and surreal group of souls you have ever seen.” Scanning the audience, he smiled. “We have a fantastic show for you tonight! Prepare yourselves and enjoy!” The audience gave another hearty applause.

The show started with Harold introducing James Flames as the first act. The dashing firebreather who burst towers of fire, painting the ceiling orange and red, made the women in the crowd shriek his name. Then came Bull, the strong man with his twirly mustache. He bent iron rods with ease, and when he walked, he stomped, cracking the stage. Sid, the tattooed man — his body a canvas — told stories of each mark, his legends carved into his flesh. Jack the Joker tossed jokes like coins and had the audience exploding with laughter. Then, there was Clementina, the troupe’s fortune teller. She frightened several audience members with her psychic abilities by revealing their hidden truths. Gasps echoed through the room from the audience as they sat on the edge of their seats, when they saw the contortionist twisting their porcelain skin bodies in unimaginable ways. Each performer was more shocking and impressive than the last.

Then Harold returned, his voice enthusiastic, alongside the roll of a drum. “And now! Finally! The one! The only! That’s right! The man you have heard so much about!” The audience grew anxious. “Nathaniel! The man, blessed by God with the voice of a thousand angels!” The crowd cheered thunderously. “I promise you. Out of all my travels, I’ve never met a man with a voice like his.” The noise from the audience lessens. “I give you a voice, no king of Europe, Tsar of Russia, or emperor of China, no man with all the world's riches, has ever heard, yet you shall tonight. You may have heard the rumors about him; are they true? You shall find out.” The drumroll stopped.

The crowd went silent. Slowly emerging from the darkness, Nathaniel walked onto the stage. The audience observed him and did not expect to see a handsome young man, slender and composed, wearing a black three-piece suit. Silence loomed over the room as he took his time looking at his audience. There was no theatrics, no flamboyance, only stillness. Then his gaze found Grace sitting in the front row. Their eyes locked, and they stared at each other. She sat upright, feeling something awakening inside as his eyes laid on her. Propelled by her gaze, Nathaniel began to sing. He sang with haunting beauty that made the audience flutter their eyes, and one by one, they all slipped into a trance.

Grace blinked. She was alone. The opera house sat empty, but Nathaniels' song softly echoed in the background. She rose and looked around. “Grace.” A gentle voice called her from behind. She turned around, her breath cut short, and her eyes widened. She walked forward, hands covering her mouth as tears ran down her face. Standing on the edge of an aisle were her parents. She stumbled into their embrace as she continued to weep. They caressed her and gently rocked her. Behind them, scattered through the rows of seats, sat the spirits of her house. The servants, Jaime, his family, they were all there. Smiling at them. Grace radiated with happiness, living the moments she yearned. It was a sublime feeling.

Suddenly, a stomp. Nathaniel loudly struck the stage with his boot, breaking the trance. The audience gasped as they woke from their own trance. Shocked and in disbelief, a hearty roaring round of applause echoed through the opera house. Nathaniel bowed and faded back into the shadows. As his colleagues congratulated him, he could still see Grace sitting in the front row, applauding and wiping tears from her face.

VI

The next night, the Bighorn Travelling Troupe prepared for their second performance in Ralston and Grace was spellbound by Nathaniel and his song. She slowly felt her powers reawakening, but Hex noticed, becoming irritated and paranoid, forbidding her from ever returning to the opera house. By doing so, he locked her in her room, and he retreated to his laboratory to come up with new tonics.

Grace stared at the window, wrapped in shadows, feeling powerless. Jaime reappeared, standing beside her.

“You came back.” Said Grace.

“We never left you.” Said Jaime. “We’ve seen how he treats you.”

“I need to see him again; I need to see all of you again.”

“To the singer? Then go, go now before he finds out.”

Grace grabbed her shawl and opened the window. The wind was cold. She latched herself onto an old oak’s branch and slowly descended as the bark scraped her palms. Once on the ground, she ran towards the opera house, feeling her soul being resurrected after being buried by so many pills. 

 Upon arriving at the opera house breathless, she rushed to purchase a ticket, not caring if it was midway through the show. She managed to find a seat in the corner. She watched all the performances, and when it was Nathaniel’s time, she tuned in, letting her guard down. Every note from his voice was undoing all the damage done by Hex, stitching her soul back together. Then, when Nathaniel stomped on the stage, the crowd roared and cheered.

The show had ended, Harold gave his thanks, and while the crowd spilled into the streets, she sat closer, closing her eyes. 

“You came again.” The voice was soft and warm.

Grace stood slowly, staring at Nathaniel as he got closer to her. 

“You’ve been in my mind since last night.” Said Nathaniel. “There's something buried in you, is there not?”

“I don’t know what happened,” she finally said. “But somehow you brought back what I thought to be lost.”

“Some things are never lost; sometimes, they’re only waiting to be found.” Said Nathaniel. A pause hung between them as they stared deep into each other. “Tell me, what did you see when I sang?”

“I saw my parents, the way I was before.” She whispered. “Before he came, before he took everything and everyone from me. Who are you?”

 “I’m someone like you, someone who is different in the world, trying to survive in it.” 

They stood in silence for a moment. Behind them, they could hear laughter from the troupe. 

“Will you tell me what you were like before?” asked Nathaniel.

“My world has turned upside down, “said Grace.” At times, I don’t know who I am anymore.”

Nathaniel leaned in and whispered. “Do you want to remember?”

                                                                       VII

In the following days, as Hex was too busy working on his experiments and hosting his parties, Grace was quiet like a mouse and escaped every time she could to see and hear Nathaniel sing.

Grace and Nathaniel grew closer with each passing day. When she was near him, she felt safe, and the world got quieter. He would tell her his stories of life on the road, dangers encountered, wild performances, the ups and the downs. He spoke of laughter and loneliness, the momentary thrill of the crowd, only to be followed by silence.

“I used to think singing would bring me happiness as I rose to fame, but along the way I realized something was missing, and I think that something is you.” Said Nathaniel.

Grace listened closely, wanting the moment to last longer, as each day became more romantic than the last as they revealed each other’s secrets and intimacies.

One afternoon, while the troupe was rehearsing in an empty opera house, Nathaniel took Grace’s hand. “Come on, let me show you something.” Together, they walked through corridors, behind the stage, through the drapes, through the dressing rooms, giggling like children until they found a couple of stairs that led to the roof. The door was old and heavy, but once outside, the wind blew gracefully, grazing their faces. Nathaniel saw the breeze picking up Grace’s hair as the sun amplified her beauty. Grace turned and saw him watching her, not with desire but with awe.

“I don’t expect you to stay, but if you go, will you think of me?” asked Grace. 

“When I was younger,” he said, “I wanted to sing all over the country for the fanciest people with their white gloves and top hats, all over the world too, but now, I just want to sing for you.” 

Grace’s heart melted, and before she could respond, a voice yelled from behind.

“Nathaniel!” They both turned.

It was Sid on the edge of the rooftop stairwell. Breathing heavily. “We have a problem.”

Nathaniel moved with haste. “What is it?” He asked.

Sid breathed out with frustration. He looked at Grace, paused, then at Nathaniel.     “It’s him, he’s here.”

Grace froze. “Hex.” She said silently to herself.

“He’s downstairs asking questions. He’s looking for her.” Said Sid.

“I’m not going back; he’s a monster.” Said Grace.

Nathaniel turned to her. “Don’t be afraid.”

“You don’t know what he’s capable of.” Whispered Grace.

“We have to go now.” Said Sid. But before they could move, Hex came out, charging out of the rooftop door, and knocking Sid out cold down to the floor, out cold. He closed the door behind him, locking it. A building rage and fury inundated him as he saw Grace holding hands with Nathaniel.

“So here you’ve been all this time!” Said Hex with saliva projecting out of his mouth like a rabid dog.

“What are you doing here?! Go away, leave me alone!” Yelled Grace.

“It’s time you came home!” Replied Hex as he walked towards her. 

Nathaniel stepped in. “No! You don’t control her anymore!”

“I cured her disease! I made her into a decent woman! What have you done except fill her mind with your nonsense!” Yelled Hex in a berserk manner. 

“Your medicine is the work of the devil!” Replied Nathaniel. “Leave here!”

“The only ones leaving are you and your freakshow!” Yelled Hex as he charged towards Nathaniel with his fists up. Grace screamed, and the people who were on the main avenue started to see a fight start on the roof of the Opera House. Hex threw punches hysterically. Nathaniel dodged them and landed a punch to his face, breaking Hex’s balance, but he quickly recovered and thrusted again and threw Nathaniel onto the floor. Nathaniel felt Hex’s knees pressing his chest into his ribs, his hand wrapped around his neck, his thumbs digging deeper into the middle. He struggled against the grip, kicking and twisting, but he couldn’t get out. Grace ran towards both men and tried to separate them. She unleashed her punches at Hex, pleading him to release Nathaniel. Hex blindly snapped back at Grace and pushed her back forcefully, making her tumble over the edge of the roof. Nathaniel, with tears running down his face, stretched his arm towards her. Hex turned his head and realized what he had done. He released Nathaniel and ran towards the edge of the roof. He looked down, and what he saw was his wife, motionless, blood coming out of her head. Hex, gasping, ran downstairs. Nathaniel, trying to regain his breath, rolled over and ran after Hex. Onto the street, Nathaniel sees a large crowd at the side of the building. Making his way through the crowd, he stopped mid-stride. There she laid, the woman he’d fallen in love with. And there was Hex, covering his face with his hands, where he sobbed uncontrollably over her body. Like maggots, more people swarmed to see what was happening. Amongst the murmurs and whispers of the people, Nathaniel could only look at the tragedy. 

“Come on, it’s not safe for you to be out here, “said a member of the troupe.” Get back inside.” Nathaniel said nothing and nodded, then made his way inside the Opera House.

The night that was supposed to be their grand finale did not happen; the troupe packed their things and headed back towards Colorado. It was a sad night for the people of Ralston, a night that no one would ever forget.

                                                                                   VI

After Grace’s death, Hex was unexpectedly immensely affected by it. There were no more parties, the river of money had gone dry, and soon he became penniless. He lived as a vagrant and often stared at the bottoms of glass bottles in alleyways. Drowned in his own self-loathing and depression, he was unrecognizable.

One cold evening, he sat next to a couple of wooden barrels, close to an alleyway, while drinking from his flask, when he overheard a conversation between two people passing by.

“Did you hear who's performing at the opera house?” asked one of the strangers.

“Yeah, I think it's that same troupe from Colorado.” Replied the other.

Hex peaked at the pair, listening as their voices faded in the distance. Hex's heart started to pound as he wet his lips. He closed his eyes, “they’re back”, he whispered to himself, “the singer, the troupe, they’re all back.” He rose, patted the dirt from his coat and walked into the alley, downing his flask.

That weekend, the Bighorn Travelling Circus was back in Ralston. Many people were excited to see the show; others were less so. Nevertheless, there was a large enough crowd on opening night. 

Outside the opera house, out of the blue, Hex walked towards the entrance. As if everyone had seen a ghost, the people who knew him were shocked not to see him drunk; his hair combed, clean-shaven, and no foul odor; he looked flawless. As soon as the doors opened, he went in and paid for a ticket in the front row. 

Meanwhile, in one of the changing rooms, Clementina had given Nathaniel a card reading, and the cards foretold danger several times. 

Harold walked in. “Nathaniel, this is our last show of the month. Are you ready for this?”

Nathaniel looked at both Clementina and Harold. “You got it, boss, tonight I sing.”

“Atta boy!” Said Harold as he patted his back.

And the show went on. Right in the front row, Hex was having a good time; he clapped when he needed to clap and laughed when he needed to laugh. It was as if nothing ever happened. When the show was getting to its last performer, the lights dimmed, and everyone who had seen the Bighorn Travelling Circus knew it was Nathaniel’s cue. Nathaniel calmly walked onto the stage, the lights lit him up, and he bowed to the crowd. A silence fell over the room, and Nathaniel took a moment to look at the audience; all eyes were on him and in the front row, he could see Hex staring right back at him. His piercing bloodshot eyes were motionless, like a statue. The lights faded away, and Nathaniel started to sing. He allured the audience with his hypnotic voice, leaving everyone in a trance. As soon as he stomped on the stage, people broke away from the trance. Right before the crowd could applaud, everything went silent for Nathniel. Time even stopped. Instead of seeing faces filled with joy and amazement, he saw a stare, cold and sharp, filled with malice. Hex launched beastly from his seat and jumped onto the stage, tackling and pinning Nathaniel down. Before anyone realized what was happening, Hex reached into his coat to retrieve a concealed blade. A gasp of terror was let out, and both members of the audience and the troupe ran onto the stage. Without hesitation, Hex started slashing Nathaniel’s face. Screams tore through the air. The audience and the troupe grabbed Hex, but it was too late. What sounded like bliss coming from Nathaniel was now the sounds of horrendous agony and pain. Nathaniel’s face was smeared in red, gurgling on his own blood. 

There was chaos everywhere. Members of the audience wanted to help but didn’t know how; some left the opera house to find a doctor, while others just stood there, shocked. Meanwhile, holding down Hex was becoming a problem. “This is what he deserved!” He yelled. He freed one of his arms, which had been held back; in his hand was a small vial; he opened it and drank its contents to the very last drop. He started coughing and losing strength, foam and saliva began pouring from his mouth uncontrollably. People were shouting and asking him what he had drunk, but his body was going into shock. He fell onto his knees, then fell face-first to the floor. In a matter of seconds, he was gone. Everyone went silent. All they could hear were the sounds of moaning and suffering coming from Nathaniel. Clementina was next to Nathaniel, crying softly, holding his hands and praying in Latin.

The town doctor came running. Shocked and startled to see the injuries on Nathaniel’s face, he ordered all those strong enough to carry Nathaniel to a room backstage. Upon lying on a bed with blood-covered sheets, he tried to speak, but no one could understand him as his throat was severely damaged. 

“I need someone strong to hold him down.” Said the doctor as he took supplies from his medical kit. 

Bull stayed, and the door closed. People outside the room could hear Nathaniel's torment and pain. Meanwhile, Harold was sitting on the edge of the stage, with full regret for asking Nathaniel to sing when he knew it was dangerous. He, too, cried. 

                                                                                   VII

The morning after, the doctor and Bull walked outside the room, covered in Nathaniel’s blood. The troupe had slept outside in the hallway. Bull approached the ring master, who lay with the rest. “Boss, hey, boss, wake up.” Said Bull as he tried to awaken Harold.

“Where is Nathaniel? What has happened?” Harold asked impatiently.

The doctor walked behind Bull. “Sir, I’ll give it to you straight, the young man will live, but it looks like he won’t ever be able to speak or sing again. His face has suffered extreme trauma, and the attack has left him disfigured. From here on out, I can only give him drugs for the pain.” 

In the following weeks, Hex was buried in a location that nobody knows of today, and the troupe didn’t leave Ralston or perform, so they stayed in the Opera House until Nathaniel felt better to head back home. When Nathaniel regained some of his strength, he communicated through writing and hand gestures. He was able to pronounce a couple of words, but speech was very difficult for him. 

The time for the Bighorn Travelling Troupe to leave Ralston was upon them, and Nathaniel handed a written letter to Harold saying it’s been an absolute honor to sing and act with them for so many years, but his stop was here. He had no grudge against his ringmaster for what happened that night; he was grateful that he discovered him and gave him a chance to sing in his troupe. Many were sad to see him stay in Ralston, but that was what Nathaniel wanted. When asked what he would do in Ralston, he wrote that he would work in the Opera House. 

As time passed, Nathaniel became somewhat of a local legend. Every time there was a new show, he was there to watch them all. Maintaining the Opera House and preserving its charm were among his motivations. But it was always after the shows that the strangest things happened. It was said that sometimes, walking beside the Opera House at certain hours of the night, some could see a strange blue light glistening through one of the windows, with small, colorful orbs floating in the air.

Nathaniel rarely left the Opera House, even when he grew old; the place meant everything to him. On his deathbed, he had only one request, and that was to be buried next to Grace. The day he died, his request was fulfilled. He was laid to rest in the cemetery, next to her.

The opera house continued to host shows by roaming troupes, but no performer could fill Nathaniel's shoes. The years went by, and Ralston didn’t grow as expected; its streets grew quieter, storefronts emptied, people moved to bigger cities, shops and saloons closed, swallowed by dust and memory. The Opera House, once the heart of it all, stood boarded and hollow, a grand relic slowly surrendering to time. Yet, for those few who still wandered, so did the strange glimmer of the blue light, flickering within the Opera House. Because if you looked long enough, you might see them.

Grace and Nathaniel, together at last, walking the forgotten halls hand in hand, where music once soared, and laughter echoed, though torn apart in life, reunited in the next life, with her love and her family.