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Ghostly Encounter At The Opera House

July 19, 2008

My encounter isn’t that of a frightening story that seems to be passed around a lot, and generally enjoyed by many, sure a good scare is often nice, a good horror tale to spread, but you’ll not find horror in my experience, but a fond memory of a clear encounter I’ll never forget.

My family and I used to take a trip to Virginia City, Nevada each year, and that last year was my fondest and most treasured. I had decided that I didn’t like tagging along with everyone, following them and going through the same stuff, again and again, but there was one place I was eager to see, Piper’s Opera House.

We were in a candy store, surrounded by large barrels of Salt Water Taffy and other tasty candies, but just up the hill stood the Opera House, and I was itching to see it. As my mother perused the vast selection, I slipped out, confident that she wouldn’t notice, and that I would come back before they left. I was glad that I had worn shorts and my halter, the heat was sweltering as I climbed the incline, but there it stood, beautiful and proud, even in it’s state of disrepair, as it was being renovated.

Soon I was at it’s entrance, no one was around, as I stepped in even, I saw no other life around me. That really wasn’t a big issue for me. It still looked grand, and I was taken in by how old it was, and I wished that the walls could talk, that I could hear it’s great history. I looked to the stairs, the obvious path in, there was a board, many actually shrouding it, it was hard to see what lay behind them, construction was evident in this part of the House. Perturbed I wasn’t, and I slowly went up the stairs, enjoying the walk up. Then I felt it, the odd need to turn around, the sensation to stop and turn, so I did.

I found myself staring at a man in the doorway, his style of dress was out of place, though elegant it was. Simply put he looked the part of a gentlemen, sharp tailored clothes, shiny shoes, clean-shaven, and slicked hair. I looked around, I was sure I would have noticed if someone had entered, my gaze fell back on his, he said nothing, his hands behind his back, I grew a little uneasy, his expression pierced me, though I could discern nothing in it, but his eyes, his eyes held me. My heart raced and decided to get quickly going where I had been headed, without a look back I departed.

Soon enough I entered the theater, where curiously there were many people, I looked about, it was beautiful and I sorely wished that I could attend a performance there when it was up and running. A man was giving tours, and I remembered that I had left everyone, and that I should be heading back. One last look around, at the stage, the balcony seats, and then I quickly left back the way I came.

No one followed as I went back down, the boards on the stairs hid portions and with dread I realized that the man could easily be hiding behind one, for he surely hadn’t followed me up. I shoved my childish fear aside and proceeded down the steps, though a little hesitantly. I passed through without circumstance, no one was hiding, waiting for me. But as I neared the exit I felt that feeling again, puzzled I turned and there he was again, this time on the first parts of the step, my heart raced as I wondered how he got there. I turned fully to stare at him. Though again he said nothing, this time I felt that he didn’t mean me harm, actually quite the opposite, like there was a past connection, my fear vanished and I tried to search his emotionless expression for any sign, none came. But his eyes seared me and seemed to look through and down into me, I know the expression seems so cliché, like he was looking through to my soul, but there is no other way to describe it, it was an odd experience and I felt hypnotized, he made no move, his hands still locked firmly behind him, then I remembered that I couldn’t stay there, I scanned his eyes one last time and left, feeling two things, one like I had lost something great, and the other that I had been reunited with something that had been lost to me forever.

At home I immediately got on the internet, looking for any stories about the young man I had, well not exactly met, but seen. Sadly there was none, at least not about him, plenty of stories about a lady who liked to watch plays, and of an old man, but none of him. I pondered if maybe I was imagining it, but how and why would I imagine such a thing? Plus it was too real, and the look shared between us was too intense to be a passing figment of my imagination. I wondered if it had been a man who came in after me, but how he was dressed, his manner, I mean why just stand there and stare? His presence to me, it wasn’t threatening, he meant no harm, or he would have done so, he had ample opportunity. And when I thought about him appearing the second time, well it just wouldn’t of been possible for him to of just appeared. Though I could see him, he didn’t seem solid, quite visible, but it felt like he could vanish any second.

Sadly we haven’t gone back, it seems, much to my irritation, that they have finally tired of it, and are moving on to amusement parks and other places.

Not a ghastly, or creepy experience as many seem to be fond of, just a simple encounter that often I find myself thinking on, our shared gaze haunting me from time to time. How I now wish that I had said something, and oddly enough, even in the silence that passed between us, it was like a great deal had taken place, that words need not trespass on.

Written by Judy Skipworth, Copyright 2008

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