Chapter 3: Introducing Mason

Mason lay awake in a cold sweat, unable to retain the disturbed sleep from which he had awoken an hour before. He turned over in his bed for the hundredth time and clenched his blankets in white knuckled fists. Beethoven's fifth symphony incessantly blared through Mason's mind urging him to his feet and making it impossible to sleep. Stage lights blinded his mind's eye and the phantom rustle of tule sounded from some unknown place in the forbidden recesses of his mind. Mason twisted his masculine torso once again, back muscles clenching to find a comfortable sleeping position. He violently pounded his pillow to the rhythmic music that had reached a crescendo. Unable to withstand the restless compulsion, his dark eyes fluttered open and he blunderingly tossed off the bed covers. The moment he stood, a sharp pain shot through his ankle. He cursed loudly as he dropped to one knee. With blind fury he gritted his teeth, stormed across the room avoiding the pain like knives jabbing into his foot, wrenched open the door, and hurled himself toward the room that called to him. His body trembled as he stood in the center of the dark room lit only by rays of moonlight. The wall-length mirrors covered the room like wall paper and cast eerie shadows from the moonlight's reflection. Mason's strong arms raised slowly above his head in a starting position. The music blared louder than ever in his mind and he twisted his body feverishly with myriads of perfect fouettés. Mason used his left foot to support the rest of his body as his right leg whipped around and around, turning his body in place so fast as if to spin every regret and painful memory into nothingness. After the last note of Beethoven's fifth Symphony faded away into the night, Mason crumpled spreadeagled on the floor. His clothes drenched in sweat and his chest heaving, every tightened muscle in his body relaxing as peace washed over him. There was finally silence. Mason's eyes blearily caught a fleeting glimpse of barefooted figure in a light, rose-pink nightdress before drifting off into the arms of sleep. Perhaps he had dreamed the timid figure. The ghosts of the past could conjure whatever they wished at Mason's displeasure, or delight.