The Phantom of the Opera #WEP #WEPFF Flash Fiction and life

https://writeeditpublishnow.blogspot.com/2023/10/wep-october-flashfiction-challenge.html

#WEP - October #FlashFiction Challenge - The Phantom of the Opera - Post October 18 - 20
"What did you find the most inspiring? Rich pickings here for interpretations - obsessive love, abduction, child abuse, period romance, horror, disfigurement and disability and their acceptance, body image and confidence, music and musical careers..."

This is what's going on in my life. My husband might have PHANTOM pains for his toes soon, because his right big toe got infected and they have cut off all the toes on his right foot (and one on the left). Diabetes is horrible. The surgeon says he'll be able to walk again, wear shoes, go back to work, etc. They say that, but they don't say when. They say he will need physical therapy, but they don't say for how long. No one mentions costs or what our insurance will cover. In fact, my husband has some kind of "hospital indemnity" (security or protection against a loss or other financial burden) that I'm trying to get activated because he pays for it every week... This is exhausting. The website is CRAP. I got 404 errors until it said to email someone. Seriously? They make getting help as difficult as humanly possible. Oh, and I thought they screwed up my husband's check this last week, shorting him by a HUGE amount. But no, it's that the first 8 hours he works (roughly) go to pay for insurance and benefits. 🇺🇲 Like the hospital indemnity one I can't get anyone to activate. 😡



By the way, if you follow me on Instagram, I was hacked. I've tried to contact them every possible way, including 📫✉📬 sending an actual postal letter.
ACCOUNT HACKED! DO NOT USE!

instagram.com/jamie.writer
ACCOUNT HACKED! DO NOT USE! Unfollow me! Ignore any messages. I am not "starting a clothing company" or any other scam the hacker says.

I'm going to try to squeeze NaNoWriMo in this year, but EVERYTHING depends on my husband's healing process. https://nanowrimo.org/participants/jamiewriter Open to Buddy requests.

Onto the story, which I wrote mostly on the Google Docs app on my phone because I've been away.

Phantom of the Boarded-Up House

By Jamie Dorner of Uniquely Maladjusted but Fun

"We dare you to follow Phantom tonight." PollyAnne rubs her chin as her lips curl into a mischievous grin. She's so beautiful. 

"You need to take a video to prove you were in the lair." Lilah wiggles her fingers and makes a ghostly woo sound. She's the youngest teen volunteer here.

"In or out?" Clint extends his muscular hand. His frayed letterman jacket cuff has a lipstick stain. It might be Lilah's. PollyAnne doesn't wear lipstick. 

This is it. My one chance to be part of their group. A chance PollyAnne will see me, not look through or past me. I shake Clint's hand. "I'm definitely in."

Phantom leaves the nursing home at eight, the same time as our teen volunteer group. The hood of a cloak is affixed around a face mask. Who wears a cloak? There's a rumor that the mask covers horrible burns. I follow Phantom onto the public bus. 

Stop after stop, the city lights brighten as the night darkens. Leaves fall as the bus pulls near the curb. I get off a moment after Phantom. Why travel all this way? 

I try to seem casual, scrolling on my phone as I follow without wanting to look like I'm stalking. Autumn leaves crunch under our feet. Phantom turns to a rusted gate. A squeaky protest rings out, sending a shiver down my spine. I duck behind a minivan. Phantom pulls out a hammer, uses the clawed end to free some nails, then pulls a boarded-up door open. 

I snap a picture for Clint as Phantom pockets the nails and slips inside.

A reply text comes. "That's the outside of a boarded-up house. You could be anywhere in the old former-rich part of town. Not good enough." 

I look around. Houses three times the size of mine crumble and rot all around me. Sale signs with years of grime flap in the autumn breeze. A rat climbs out of a decayed jack-o-lantern. Waste of food.

"Get away from my house!" 

I jump back. An old man in the minivan waves a shotgun at my face.

"This is my spot. Get your own!"

I put up my hands as I step back, sprinting once I'm far enough away. I go around the corner, locating the back of Phantom's place. Creepy music comes from within. Is that a piano? No, it's deeper, darker, a sound I've never heard. The windows are all boarded up. A tree rests against the back of the house, as if too old and exhausted to stand on its own. There are no leaves left on the branches. I jump the rusty fence. A loose board on the second floor has light flickering behind it.

PollyAnne, this is for her, this is my chance. I take off my belt and use it to help me climb the tree. I wish I were more prepared. Tools, knowledge on breaking into a house, a better flashlight than my phone can offer, anything. It's a struggle, and I nearly fall twice. Finally, I'm inside.

Cobwebs linger among moldy boxes. A small, lit lamp with horse cutouts on the shade spins on a dirty nightstand. I sneak through a path on the worn-down rug. The music pauses.

"Careful of the broken stair if you're coming down. There's nothing worthwhile to steal anymore, and you're not gonna want my body." The music restarts.

That is the weirdest response to breaking and entering I can imagine. I make my way down the creaking stairs. A centipede crawls up my leg. Phantom isn't joking about the broken one. I nearly fall through a hole as I brush off the myriapod. At the bottom, I turn on my phone's video recorder.

Phantom sits at the most peculiar-looking piano I've ever seen. Far too many keys in a strange tiered-arrangement. The wall is covered in vertical brass pipes.

"People can hear this for quite a distance. It's why they say the place is haunted. Guess I'm the ghost. Are you here to kill me?"

"No," I answer with a shaking voice. "I'm, uhh, well, it's kind of an initiation." I stop the video and press send. 

Phantom lights several candles on one holder. I've never seen something like that. 

"People once paid to learn from me. And paid more to hear me perform. Those days are long gone." Phantom pulls a thick leather book from a shelf. It opens to pictures printed out on paper. "What are you being initiated into?"

"It's this group of friends. See, there's this girl— "

"Ahh!" Phantom cuts me off. "Yes, I know something about that." Pages flip in the photo book. "That was mine. Christine. We didn't end up together, though." 

"Oh?" I choke on dust as I step nearer, the floor creaking under me.

Phantom taps the face mask. "When it's not true love, many obstacles can be too much for someone to overcome. She denied it with her dying breath. Still, I'm sure it wouldn't have worked out. I could never give her children. She should have become a mother. Terrible how it ended." 

I want to ask how she died. But what if the reason Phantom hides here is because there's an open murder investigation?

"Wow. Well, I'm gonna go." I cough as I get a whiff of a rotting stench. 

"Are you sure you wouldn't like to stay for a concert? I'm not tired yet." 

"No, no, I should go check on the initiation. See about the girl. You know?" A chill goes through me. The candle flames flicker and puff out. 

"Oh, I do know. I'm just not sure I want break-ins to become a regular habit. You leaving so easily might be a problem." Phantom pounds on the keys, filling the cold air with eerie music. 

963 words FCA

Tagline: Teen initiation includes B&E to Phantom's ghostly concert.

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