Read Silent Song (Ghostly Rhapsody) for Free Online Page A

curtains to fake the windows, and we’d refused the chandelier because we couldn’t connect it to the school’s electric cables. And because we weren’t sure the ceiling would hold up the weight. But everything else? We had it. Rugs and cushions and figurines. I imagined that placing the decorations was better than the grunt work, but still. I didn’t much care for being ordered around by Lena. She acted as if she were Mr. Hedford, reigning supreme. The only one who hadn’t received orders from her was Keith.
    He moved in silence, avoiding the looks of the others and trying not to stand in their way. He kept finding discreet niches for the speakers and the lights to go. He might be a musician, but since we needed someone in charge of illumination and both things involved cables, he’d been recruited. When the furniture changed locations, Keith came in again, undid all his work, and replaced his stuff wherever it fit best. Repetitive, but not very tiring.
    I went backstage, got the box with the small stuff, and placed the vase on top of the bureau Lena had pointed out. An ornate glass ashtray went upon the low table. A figurine of a nightingale in flight sat right beside the vase. A couple of old-looking books found their way into the shelf that Lena had finished moving around. A table clock that weighed more than I cared to lift took the place of honor on a table against the far wall, along with a silver tray that would hold delicate glasses once we dared to get them out of their safety wrappings.
    Someone clapped. Mr. Hedford, of course. He looked to be as excited as a little kid with the promise of Disney World hanging in front of his eyes.
    “This is it! Don’t move anything else; this room is as it must be.” Room. Not stage. Notice just how invested he was—we all were, really. “One sound and light test before we call it a day, Mr. Brannagh?”
    “Coming.” Keith moved to the small alcove housing the controls and flipped the lights on.
    He’s not a pro? He could have fooled us.
    I gaped, unabashed. The ambiance was bright, but warm. No harsh light, no direct beams; even the zenithal spotlights were soft and diffused. The whole room stood out, a play of corners and cleverly hidden reflections. Mr. Hedford nodded, pleased, and I reached out and squeezed Anna’s hand. Her smile was wide enough to split her face; like me, she could already see herself in that room, waltzing in the midst of that opulence and waiting for disaster to strike the household.
    Then it was time for the sound proof and the music started. It was the melody he’d already shown us but, as he had promised, he had done some intense arrangements. It didn’t even sound like a guitar anymore. He played so fast that it was hard to imagine the notes leaving a single instrument. He’d also added a second voice, a few gravely notes here and there, interwoven with the original line that served to highlight all the emotions the audience would experience… and to remind them that there was more to it than met the eye. It played loud, but no one would mind.
    For a moment, I thought that we actors, the play and everything else should be just static noise providing a background for his music.
    “Wait,” Lena cried out, interrupting him. Every one of us, professor included, turned to watch her in surprise. “No one will hear our lines like that.”
    “They will,” Keith replied. “I did mic the stage, you know.”
    “You sure that’ll be enough?”
    He motioned for her to move on stage and she did. He started to play again
    “I’m really not sure about this ‘micing’ thing,” she sighed.
    And we all heard her. She was started at the clarity of her own voice. She looked lost and then she smiled. Like the Cheshire Cat.
    “This is perfect, Keith. Great work. But, will it be okay with all the speakers and mics and lights and the hot AC? Remember, now it’s cold, but it’ll get colder before we go live.”
    He looked unsure. “The sound