The Lost Opera

Jared recounts a chilling and mysterious experience from the previous night. While reviewing his notes in the quiet of his hotel room, he heard faint music drifting through the air. It started softly, growing louder and more distinct, yet when he looked out the window, the street below was empty—shrouded in mist, devoid of any movement or sound.

Perhaps fatigue was playing tricks on him, or maybe it was “Musical Ear Syndrome,” a phenomenon where the brain invents music in response to silence. But the music he heard was far too intricate and eerie—discordant melodies that felt alien and unsettling, far removed from any tune he could conjure from memory.

Jared spends a productive day at the Blackwater archives and finally uncovers some critical pieces of the puzzle. Among the discoveries are black-and-white photographs of the Blackwater Opera Theatre, showcasing its striking and bizarre architecture. The building's jagged angles, impossibly tall columns, and asymmetrical ribbed arches give the space an otherworldly and disorienting quality. It’s easy to see why some described the theater as “non-Euclidean,” its design seemingly intended to distort perception and scale.

It’s late, and Jared’s day ends with an unsettling experience. After dinner, he takes a walk to clear his head, finding himself at the crossroads where the Blackwater Opera Theatre once stood. Now, it’s just an overgrown lot enclosed by a rusted fence. The heavy mist and eerie atmosphere make the place feel alive with memories of the past. Jared imagines the night of Mortuus Messis’s premiere in 1916—the excitement of the crowd, the anticipation of the performance, and the tragedy that followed.

Jared’s day begins with a slow start and restless sleep, possibly due to the unease of being in an unfamiliar place. His plan to visit Blackwater’s City Archives hits a snag—they’re closed on Mondays. Despite the setback, he spends time on the agricultural college campus, where a surprise awaits in his inbox.

Jared receives an unexpected email from Julianna Jenkins, the great-granddaughter of Dahlia Flemming, a figure tied to his research. Julianna offers an apology for her mother’s brusqueness during previous correspondence, hinting at a strong sense of family privacy. She expresses curiosity about Jared’s work and requests more details about his interest in Dahlia, with the condition that their exchange remains confidential.

Jared has arrived in Blackwater, Massachusetts, and it’s almost 1 a.m. His first impressions of this rural town are a mix of charm and mystery. The streets, paved in cobblestone, have a distinctly European feel, but the thick mist cloaking the town adds an almost ghostly atmosphere. Jared notes the quietness of Blackwater in the summer—something the hotel concierge confirmed, mentioning this season rarely brings visitors.

Speaking of the hotel, Jared’s lodgings are steeped in history. Built in 1881, the building exudes antique luxury with tall ceilings, hardwood floors, and a small decorated balcony. Jared muses that guests attending the 1916 premiere of Mortuus Messis at the Blackwater Opera Theatre might have stayed in the very same room.

Jared wakes up in Boston with a pounding headache and some serious regret after a night of overindulgence. He’s got a Greyhound ticket to Blackwater for later tonight, but first, he’s taking us on a historical deep dive into the North End—Boston’s oldest neighborhood.

Jared has finally made it to Boston, the first stop on his way to Blackwater, Massachusetts for his long-awaited field research. After some diplomatic efforts to ease Lily’s nerves about the trip, Jared is off to explore the city’s rich history—though it seems like his enthusiasm might be running a little high, as he indulges in a few too many pints of Samuel Adams and shots with the bartender.

Jared’s dissertation outline has been approved, and so has his research funding! After some tense moments, it looks like things are moving forward with his project—at least academically. The funding will allow him to travel to Blackwater, Massachusetts for more field research, but not without some personal hurdles. Meanwhile, his attempt to get in touch with Emily Jenkins, Dahlia Fleming’s granddaughter, takes a disappointing turn, as she seems uninterested in an interview and more focused on selling her grandmother’s personal memorabilia. Jared is left frustrated and uncertain about how to proceed, especially as his research into Temara Corelli’s family remains at a standstill.

Jared gives an update on his genealogical investigation into Dahlia Fleming, following up on his request for next-of-kin information. After a long wait, Jared receives a response from Emily Jenkins, Fleming’s 54-year-old granddaughter. But things take an unexpected turn as Emily's response hints at a potential financial transaction rather than a simple interview.

Jared takes a step back from his intense research into Mortuus Messis to reflect on his academic journey and the challenges he faces with his dissertation project. After submitting his dissertation outline and bibliography to his committee, Jared contemplates the difficulties of pursuing a niche topic like opera folklore in the remote academic environment of Newfoundland.

He shares personal insights about his upbringing in a creative family, with a mother who was an opera singer and a father who was a playwright, providing a glimpse into his childhood filled with artistic chaos and inspiration. Jared also reveals the contrasting academic environment at Whitestone University, where his research on Mortuus Messis seems out of sync with the dominant focus on sea shanties and fisherman songs.