Weird Horror #1 by Michael Kelly

Author:Michael Kelly
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: horror, crime, pulp fiction, weird tales
Publisher: Undertow Publications

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THE maestro is unshaven the next morning; his back is as rigid as his baton. He is older than the Ballet Master, just over fifty and while she cannot feel attraction, the cleaning women have informed Justine that he is unconventionally handsome.

He’d seemed pleased with Justine’s progress, at first. He’d laughed and took time to detail his illustrious career as a tenor; his royal audiences, his unmatched potential. “I pushed myself too hard, Justine. I damaged my voice,” he’d said, a pall darkening his face. “I had to take music students at the Opera just to eat.”

Justine watched the spark return to his eyes when he’d explained how he’d discovered a flute playing automaton in a travelling show one evening. “I knew how I’d triumph.” He’d smiled wide when he’d told her. He procured the automaton on credit from the Opera’s proprietors, promising them he’d build a soloist with a range beyond human capability. Then, he set to work deconstructing the flute player, studying it parts; creating Justine.

Pressure from the Opera’s proprietors began to grow. Justine had overheard their demands: “When will the machine be ready, Maestro?” “We cannot fund your mechanical hobbies indefinitely. Where is the return on our investment?” One morning, they’d delivered an ultimatum: Justine would open the fall concert season or the Maestro would repay his debts and leave disgraced.

“I’m running out of time,” he’d said to her after the proprietors left.

And as her debut has drawn closer, the Maestro’s agitation has increased. Nothing she sings appeases him. She’s rehearsed his aria countless times but cannot pinpoint what her performance lacks; what crucial knowledge she is missing.

The Maestro’s hands are raised at his podium now, waiting for Justine to take her mark. She stands in place and they begin. Her voice soars, startling the cleaning women amid their dusting of the baroque relief-covered balconies.

“Uninspired!” His scream cuts her off. Fills the theatre. He scatters his sheet music on the floor, lunges towards her, awl in hand. “The claims I’ve made. They will laugh me out of the city.” His voice is fractured. His jaws crunch together so tense they look as hard as metal, like hers.

“I’m sorry, Maestro.”

“You don’t know what sorry is. Useless bucket of pins!”

“I—”

He slams the awl’s handle into Justine’s face below her left eye. The dull clank of wood against metal jolts the cleaning women into a flurry of spit polish. Justine brings her hand up to her face plates. There’s a shallow crater on her left cheek.

The Maestro glares at her. Dashes the awl to the floor. “See what you’ve made me do? Pick these papers up and fix your face.” He turns, storming off the stage. “Be on time tonight. We wouldn’t want to be late for my grand failure,” he yells behind him.

On her hands and knees, Justine picks up the Maestro’s score and reorders it before placing the sheets back on his stand. She retrieves the awl. She imagines herself as the Moon Queen, surveying her lost lunar kingdom as she stands on the stage.

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