The Friend Shop (Phantom of the Opera)

▪ Chapter 3 ▪

▪ Chapter 3 ▪

Tires ground on gravel, the car bouncing every time a wheel dropped into a damp pothole. Black trees waved over the county road, almost obscuring the dying afternoon sun. The ending refrains of "The Show Must Go On" faded away as the wind caught a small twig and carried it in front of the car.

Rocks shifted as she turned the wheel, rounding a corner and slamming on the brakes, a washed-out bridge laying immediately in her path. Shifting the car into park, she clambered over the seats and out of the car, walking over to the edge of the drop, a creek rushing twenty feet below her.

"Well, this is just dandy." She muttered to herself. "Now how am I supposed to get there. Did I miss the driveway?" Glancing behind her, she shook her head and stepped away from the precipice, covering her eyes to remove the dizzying image from her head. "No, I couldn't have. It must be beyond." Surveying the area, a small foot path, leading to a narrow foot bridge across the water caught her attention.

Glancing once at her car and considering the possibly that her phone might be able to find a connection, she pressed the lock button and eased down the traitorous path, several rocks and branches reaching the bottom long before she did.

Heels digging into the soft earth, she finally reached the foot bridge and mounted the wooden structure, pleased to hear no creaks and only one groan from it. Inches beneath her feet, the brook rushed, slapping against stones and spraying her white boots with a thin layer of water. A fish swam past her vision, his silver sides catching the dying sunlight filtering through the overhanging trees.

Confident in the boards beneath her feet, she advanced over the foot bridge and ascended the lightly-worn path leading up the opposite bank. Using a few low branches, she pulled herself onto the top and looked down the road, seemingly unending.

"Well, I've gotten this far. I might as well go on." She whispered to herself, hooking the long strap of her purse cross her body and striding onto the gravel road. Rocks crunched and shifted beneath her feet and several times, pretty stones caught her eyes but, the steady ticking of her mental clock reminded her she would be late if she didn't press forward without distraction.

At least, she wouldn't have to exercise.

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The clock chimed five. Then dinged to remind him of the half hour. Repeatedly, he logged into his Friend Shop account to check messages, but only Beauty's profile picture greeted him, smiling prettily from the glass prison.

The page refreshed several times, each time showing nothing except his last message accepting her excitement for the evening. Has she changed her mind? After racking his brain and rereading her biographical page in search of an answer, he realized how little he knew of the girl visiting him.

Does she have a boyfriend? Are her parents still alive? How many friends does she have? What sort of work does she do? What are her interests?

No answers surfaced to his questions.

His fingers trembled despite the addition of an extra dose of morphine that morning, a sedative he had hoped would calm him. His mind whirled with possible reasons for her unexplained absence. Her boyfriend surprised her with something she couldn't turn down and she forgot about me.

Refresh. Nothing.

She couldn't find my house and gave up on everything.

Refresh. Nothing.

Her car crashed and she is stranded.

Refresh. Nothing.

Her car crashed and she is dead!