/ phantom /
a figment of the imagination
"She was like a dark wave crashing upon the bright shores of his horizon."
Anne Wheeler. An outcast. A loner. A street orphan. A disregarded, disgraced child born out of wedlock. A broken girl waiting for a s...
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Trying to get away from the swarm of people circulating outside the arena doors, Anne slipped through the crowd and into a side room unnoticed.
Or so she thought.
"You okay, dearie?"
Surprised, Anne lifted her head to see the large, bearded figure of Lettie Lutz. Sending the woman a small smile, she quickly glanced down, her eyes trailing over the scuffed toes of her boots. "Yeah. I'm fine."
"You know it's fine not to be fine," Lettie probed. "I get it though. This was a big decision for you and its overwhelming and stressful and hard. But, let me tell you one thing, you have an incredible talent, an amazing skill, and a beautiful act that people from all over New York will love. You can be anything you want and do everything else. You just need to have faith in yourself."
This time, Anne's smile became broader. "Thank you, Lettie. I guess I - er - kinda needed to hear that."
Lettie leaned forward and placed a comforting hand on the girl's shoulder. "Trust me, it took me a long time to come to terms with being myself too. It's not exactly easy being an overweight woman washer with a beard now, is it?"
Anne let out a trill of laughter. "No. I guess not. But your personality is big and caring and friendly and that's what counts."
As she looked around, Anne realised that she had hidden out in a room that was filled with racks of colourful costumes and stands towering with wigs and hats and cupboards and shelves scattered with make-up and accessories.
Furrowing her brow, Anne straightened up. "What is all this for?"
"Mr Barnum wants a crew that is as lively as he promised the public," Lettie returned dryly. "These are our costumes and bits and pieces. Do you want to have a look?"
Anne nodded, trying to mask her growing eagerness. "Yes please."
As she sifted through the clothes, she came across a deep purple leotard trimmed with rows of cream-coloured lace and layers of transparent chiffon decorated with glittery beads.
"Do you like it?" Lettie mused as she looked over Anne's shoulder.
Anne hesitated before responding, "Indeed, I do, but I've never before worn something so fancy. I don't know if I could."
"Nonsense!" Lettie waved her excuses away. "You're a gymnast. You need a leotard. Try it on. Oh and here's some stockings and arm bands that go with it."
A few moments later and Anne stood surveying herself in a floor-length mirror just opposite the clothes-rack. Slowly, she turned from one side to the other, squinting her eyes and pursing her lips. "Hmm. I'm not sure if it goes well with my colouring."
