The angel wings were sewn into my white leotard, sprinkled with glitter, and even though they added pounds to my shoulders, I never danced better. The dancers struck their poses and remained still as I took center stage. Kicking my leg high, spinning around in an elegant twirl, pointing my toes, and flicking my wrists, I became the angelic character I was honored to play.
I was the angel they worshiped.
I spun around slowly then strutted to the front of the stage, my hands angled outward so I could show off my wings. The audience was dark because the lights hit my face and obscured almost everything before me.
But I could make out something.
A man dressed in all black stood in front of his seat, dead center of the theater, absolutely motionless. He didn’t shift down the row to use the bathroom. He remained there, blocking the people behind him, his arms resting at his sides with deliberate stillness.
His dark eyes reflected the light from the show, open and wide, unblinking.
He had a large mouth, and it was pulled back into the widest grin I’d ever seen, showing all his teeth, his mouth taking up a larger proportion of his face than the average person. The grin was practically maniacal.
And he stared right at me.
My mind, body, and soul had been so absorbed in the performance just moments ago, but now everything was dead inside me. The music turned into a blur of sounds because I couldn’t focus. I missed my next cue over and over again because I couldn’t take my eyes off the man who stared right at me.
The adrenaline made my heart race, and my instincts told me I was in danger. It was an innate warning, my psyche reading the scene as disturbing…and terrifying. It was like a nightmare that wouldn’t go away, even after you woke up.
It was fucking creepy.
His smile didn’t change. His eyes didn’t blink. His body didn’t move at all, and his creepy effect was felt by everyone around him because no one dared to ask him to return to his seat.
And the creepiest thing of all…was that the stare was intentional.
He wanted me to know.
The fear cut me to the bone.
I told security about the freak in the audience, but they didn’t take my warning seriously. When I asked the girls if they’d noticed him, they all said no. When I told them I was scared, they said I was overreacting, and he was just an admirer.
Plain and simple.
But it was more than that… I could feel it.
No one could change my mind about it.
No one could gaslight me into believing that reality didn’t happen.
A few days passed, and when my next performance came, I almost stepped aside and allowed my understudy to take over. The experience had only lasted a few minutes, but it had traumatized me deeply, left a scar that I tried to show people, but I was the only one who could see it.
But I found the courage to do my job.
He wasn’t there.
I was so convinced that he would be standing there, in the same seat, with the same grin. I started to question what I actually saw, if it was just a trick of the stage lights, if my mind allowed the shadows to manipulate my reality.
Did it happen at all?
It did…right?
I returned to my apartment, just a few blocks from the theatre. The Eiffel Tower was far away in the distance, lit up like a beacon of hope and pride for all the Parisians who worshiped it with their eyes.
My purse and keys were tossed onto the kitchen island. My scarf was pulled from around my neck and set on top. Fall had arrived, and it was slightly chilly, but there was still a hint of summer at the warmest time of the day.
I walked to the large window in the living room where the parted curtains rested. The lights from the city were so bright, they illuminated my apartment even in the deepest night, and it became hard to sleep. I liked to sleep in after a performance, and the bright sunlight could easily sabotage that.
I grabbed each side of the curtains and started to pull them to the center.
But my eyes moved to the building across the street, as if I already knew something was there before I even looked. It was instinct, as if someone else commanded me to look and I obeyed.
There he was.
Standing in the window, dressed in black, staring at me from across the street, the same grin on his face, pulled back as wide as possible, showing his molars in the very back. His dark eyes were open and staring, taking me in like an experiment rather than a human being.
My hands gripped the curtains as the tremors took over.