My parents and I moved to France a couple years ago because they wanted me to "get more in touch with my culture" since I am of French descent. I live with my Mom, Dad, and my older brother, Marcel.
"Théo! Get ready to leave," I heard my mother's voice call from the bathroom where she was putting on her makeup.
We were about to go to another one of the performances at the theatre my family owns. Nothing too special. Every Thursday there's a performance. A new person each time. It's pretty boring, honestly. You really expect a 15 year old boy who spends most of his time locked away in his bedroom on the Internet to be interested in performing arts? Yeah, no.
On our way out the door of the house, Marcel peeked over my shoulder at my phone screen as I was reading a World of Warcraft forum.
"Texting your girlfriend?" My brother, who is 22 years old and still living with us, teased.
I rolled my eyes, "Go away." I continued to read.
"Make me," Marcel retorted and stuck out his tongue.
"Boys, stop fighting!" My mother, Marianne, demanded.
We soon arrived at the theatre and we were escorted to a huge dimmed room with velvet seats and an ivory grand piano on stage. We were seated in the middle of the theatre with perfect view of the stage.
As more people began to pile in the lights went off and the spotlight appeared on a woman on stage. Her white corset with the white tutu and gold accents fit her body perfectly. The cream colored masked, lined with gold lace created beautiful shadows on her face. She was stunning. Half of her face was unable to be seen but her aura said all;
Absolute majesty.
YOU ARE READING
The Masked Dancer
General Fiction"She's absolutely beautiful," I whispered to myself, watching the masked dancer skip around on the stage. I couldn't see her face but the graceful moves she made said it all. - Théo was always forced to go to these performances by his parents. One p...
