In The Wings

Act II Scene IV

"What a dream," Christine said, her voice light and mesmerized. "I think it was a dream, although all of last night seemed to be a dream," she murmured to no one in particular. Christine collected herself and began to explain.

"In the dream...I remember..." She took a moment to herself to make sure she was recollecting everything clearly. Remembering dreams had always been a bit of a foggy business for Christine, but after a moment of silence it all came back as if she was watching a movie right in front of her. "There was mist, swirling around on an enormous lake. There were candles all around..." She paused, lost in a world of her own dreams. "And on the lake there was a boat. A pretty, intricate boat."

Christine turned her almost ditzy gaze over to her Angel of Music. "And in that boat there was a man." It had been the Angel of Music, although dressed up quite a bit more. She had been wearing a gown of white that billowed out behind her when she walked. The Angel had worn a black cloak adorned with dark jewels and all sorts of sparkling things in her dream. Her dress had featured gems that reflected light everywhere as well, but they had been white to match the dress.

Christine looked over to her Angel to see if he had heard the sound of her voicd, her explanation of the dream she had. The Angel of Music had not seemed to have heard her. He was too busy, working on all sorts of music of his own. Christine didn't mind, she found it all fascinating. She made her way up, pushing her blankets out of the way. When she was standing up straight she smoothed her clothes and quickly fixed her hair. Then she began walking towards the Angel of Music, slowly and almost silently.

"Who was that shape in the shadows? Whose is the face in the mask?" Christine walked up next to the Angel of Music who didn't seem to notice her presence at all. He just continued pounding away on the piano, creating melodies and harmonies of unearthly beauty.

Christine tilted her head as she stared at the mask that covered only half of his face. She wondered what it was covering, what the Angel thought he needed to hide. All thoughts of her dream or the music or the events of the previous night just faded away. The only thing that she could see was the mask. The only thing that she wanted to do was remove it and find out who was underneath.

If Christine's single focus hadn't been on the white mask adorning her Angel's face she would have admired the music greatly. It sounded like something her father would have wanted her to listen to and she would have ended up loving.

But instead of swooning over the music she reached out her hand to the Angel's mask. He immediately turned away to write something down on a piece of sheet music. Christine quickly retracted her hand. She wanted to do this so badly. Christine had never felt quite so curious in her entire life. If anything, in that moment when she was sixteen she felt more like a six year old.

Again Christine began to reach out her hand. It was a slow reach, grasping out for something she probably wasn't meant to touch. That just made it all the more tantalizing. Watching her hand continue getting closer and closer to the mask of her Angel Christine thought that it looked almost like it was going in slow motion. It was so close. She could feel the heat of the Angel's skin radiating onto her outstretched fingers.

Finally, she touched it. She grabbed it, snatching it off of his face. Within a split second the Angel had let out a mighty scream.

In the single instant before he covered it up, Christine spotted a massive scar running the full length of his face. It was gruesome, looking as if it had always been that way. It made the Angel of Music look more monster than man. That was why he had covered it up so quickly.

He whirled around in a furious air to face Christine. She let out a breathy shriek, partially of fear of his face and partially of fear of his fury. Christine saw murder in his eyes. This was not what she had expected from her angel, not the Angel of Music.