So, yes, I'm posting this a day early, but I'm so excited and I wanted to share! :D I also want to say thanks for all of the support you've given me with this story, from one Halloween to the next :) I've tried to message everyone individually, but for some reason the site is blocking me from doing that. So, everybody, here's a big thanks from me! *blows kisses and gives internet hugs*

"Oh, Mademoiselle Christine!"

Thomas turned the doll over in his hands, his eyes as wide as saucepans with wonder.

"It's amazing! Brigitte said she had made it from scraps in the costume rooms - it was never as nice as this!"

And indeed, the doll was exquisite. The canvas body remained, but it was now clothed in a dress fit for a princess. It was cut from raw, ruby silk - who knew how expensive it was? Not only that, but it was hemmed in golden thread, gracefully patterned into sweetly curling vines. The neckline was adorned with impossibly tiny glass beads, glowing with the same crimson hue as the dress. The original tear was mended with a delicate stem backstitch, the thread somehow enhancing the plain canvas body. The porcelain face had been cleaned and polished, the curling hair softened and shining.

She had become a jewel among dolls.

Christine delicately fingered the hem, beholding this work of art with the same entranced gaze as Thomas. Lovely, lovely...surely a work of magic.

Christine, Christine...what else would you expect from a ghost?

Her heart beat just a little faster at the thought.

...

"Christine, my dear, you look like the cat that has gotten the cream."

Indeed she did, floating into her dressing room with a beaming smile.

"Oh, my angel...I've had the most wonderful day!"

"Have you?"

"Oh, yes! I visited the Ghost, last night, just as you instructed...I was able to thank him, and then he returned Thomas's doll. Angel, it was not only repaired, but he had transformed it into the most exquisite work of art I have ever seen!"

"I hope this does not mean that you have become distracted by material possessions, Christine," the Voice laughed gently.

Christine blushed.

"I admit that I was captivated by it...oh, Angel, if you could have seen it! It is surely no sin to appreciate true beauty! And that is not the only reason for my happiness..."

"Oh?"

"You see," she smiled, "I kept a close eye on Thomas today, and I was able to spot him returning the doll to Brigitte. I have never seen a child so happy! Poor little Brigitte, she has had nothing beautiful in her entire life...you should have seen her face! She was awestruck! And then, oh! She did the sweetest thing...she kissed Thomas on the cheek! Of course the dear girl was so embarrassed afterwards that she ran away, but Thomas was floating on clouds for hours. It was the dearest thing in the world."

"I do not blame Thomas for his bliss. A kiss on the cheek is one of the finest thanks in the world."

"You think so, Angel?"

"My darling," he whispered. "I know so."

...

It was night. Christine was curled upon her cot, floating gently in the half-state between sleep and wakefulness. A small smile graced her lips as she dreamed in the darkness.

She dreamed of light. A holy, golden light that poured down from the heavens, saturating her body in glory.

A shadow snuck in from the edges of her vision, wrapping itself sinuously around the light. Yet the shadow was not frightening. Indeed, it was soft and yielding - Christine felt that she could sink into it like fine velvet.

The light and the shadow danced, merging into one another in a graceful, entrancing balance. They were separate, yet together. One could not exist without the other.

She thought of the moon. The light side, the dark side, each necessary to create the wonderful mass that decorated the night sky.

The moon turned into a coin, shining and golden. The coin had two sides, light and dark, depending on how you held it...but could you not buy sheet music with it, whose notes carried songs that entranced and delighted?

Light and dark. Dark and light.

Her angel and her Ghost.

Each so necessary...each so essential to her happiness.

Each so deserving of her love.

It seemed to her that she felt a weight upon her cot. Fingers gently combed through her hair. Father used to do that...

And then she heard words...words whispered into her mind, light as a feather in the wind.

"Christine," they breathed. "Oh, my darling...my precious, precious angel! Christine...jewel of my heart...song of my soul! I love you so, with every fiber of my being I love you so! It is my turn to thank you now...I wish to thank you for making me the happiest I've ever been, in my entire, lonely life. Oh, sweet one...thank you..."

She felt the gentlest sensation on her cheek.

It was cold...as cold as the first welcome brush of snow in winter. It was smooth, smooth like porcelain, smooth as the bracing rivers she used to bathe in as a child...

And she smiled.

...

The Shadow lingered at her bedside, longing to stay, but afraid to linger. He stood, and with one last, yearning glance at his beloved, he swept his cloak around him and disappeared into the night.