Welcome to Gaia! ::

Chapter 1. The Concept of Time

Year seem sometimes to move along very slowly and yet they do pass. It is hard to imagine how much something can change within the span of a year. Though it may not seem like anything has changed, they always have. Hearts eventually mend and fears disappear. New people will come and old people will go, all adding to the great diversity that is humanity. Most people do not like change but it is inevitable. Change is what brings happiness and sadness. The years change everything and everyone. With time comes the changing of stories, they are passed along and changed as they are told to different groups and people. People will change and grow older as the years move on. It is the constant change in everything that makes the world an interesting place and it is possible for even the hardest of hearts to change and love again.
Three years had past in the city of Paris. Things that once looked new began to fade and become familiar among the streets and the people had begun to forget the fear that had come to pass after the phantom had terrorised the young Diva Christine Daae. She had, since then, left the opera house and had married Raoul de Chagny the Viscount and had not been seen or heard within the Paris music circles again. Some say she quit after the her ordeal, to afraid to take the stage again, other believed that it was the loss of the phantom that rendered her voice plane and undesirable. The fact remained Christine was no longer know as the singer that she once was and had disappeared from the eyes of the public. No one will ever know for sure but she seemed to fall away like the pedals of a dying rose. The beauty of her voice was gone, not to be heard in Paris again.
The phantom, to had disappeared but the workers believed him to still be lurking in the depths of the opera. Superstition had become the main playing point in the workers lives. Much of the opera house had been destroyed by fire and the hunt for the murderer who was the opera ghost. But he was not found. Though his layer was found many believed that it was not his primary place of dwelling and that somewhere beneath the city of Paris there was a palace occupied by a monster. No one had been able to locate it and after some time the police and the searchers had given up. He seemed to disappear without a trace, without a sound, people believed him dead or dying and believed him no longer a menace. The superstitions however grew, the opera house was restored to its old splendour and glowed as if it were new. Marble steps gleamed white and the gold trimmings sparkled in the light of the sun. This place was once again warm with life. But the old ghost stories remained, it was after all the opera populair and would forever be shadowed but the stories that had once unfolded within its doors.
Performances had began to take place again in this theatre. Music filled its rooms and excitement radiated from all around. Ballerinas were back in training and living in the opera house dormitories. The stages and the underlying portions of the stage were filled again with life and movement. More men then before had been employed in the theatre, at least two for every job for safety purposes and because the teams had become so paranoid about the opera ghost that they would not travel the halls alone. Monsieur Andre and Monsieur Firmin were the first men to enforce this new policy and because of their great fear that, perhaps the ghost was still with them, many of the Phantom’s demands were still met. Madame Giry was still in charge of the ballet troop. She was also put in charge of making sure that box five was always empty. The phantom had not been seen in that box for three whole year and still if anyone tried to take a place in that seat, over looking the stage, the performers and the managers were refuse to let a show proceed. Madame Giry was also put in charge of the phantom’s twenty thousand franks that were owed to him monthly. It was never assumed that Madame Giry would take the money but every month on the first of the month Monsieur Firmin would deliver the money to Madame Giry who would leave the money in box five for a week and if the money did not disappear then Madame Giry would return the money to Monsieur Andre and every month it was the same. The money would be set out and again the money would be returned. It had only happened on two occasions that the money did leave the box. This reassured Andre and Firmin that the ghost was still with them and that they should keep to their new routine.
It was a shame, however, that the opera house was not making the money that it had in the past. Andre and Firmin feared that the end was near for their theatre as they could not convince any major divas to return. La Carlotta had left them for good when Piangi was killed. Christine was no more and so the only people to sing in this place were people that had once been employed and understood the affairs of the phantom of the opera. Andre and Firmin had tried to convince new people to come into the troop and the only people that would come were the ballerinas. They had nearly stopped the performances of operas all together for all they could perform was the ballet and it had begun to fall out of favour with the people of Paris. The opera populaire was facing certain ruin.
One hot summer afternoon Andre and Firmin had taken to the streets in front of the opera to lounge in the cool breeze and to take in a long lazy lunch. The sun beat down on the patio umbrella that covered their outdoor table as the two men sat and pondered what they could do to save their opera house.
“Andre, we need an opera. There is no way for us to continue if we don’t have an opera!” Richard Firmin stated as he sipped a light fruity lunch wine.
“I know we do but we cannot convince anyone to come into our theatre to perform. And even if we could have would it be possible to top a spectacle as the one seen on the final night of the phantom of the opera? Don Juan Triumphant was an amazing performance. A master piece in itself and yet a disaster for us.” Gille Andre said as he took another bite from his sandwich.
“Perhaps we need to find our phantom again and have him write us a new, a brilliant opera and have him perform in it,” Firmin said as he whipped the sweat off his forehead with a handkerchief.
“Are you mad? Who in their right mind would perform with the phantom of the opera?” Andre said as he repeated the line over to himself.
“He wouldn’t be known as the phantom of the opera he must have a name it could be just what we need to bring life and music back into our theatre.” Firmin said feeling more confident about his idea.
“And how do you suggest we find this fellow, whom we have only known as an enemy?” Andre said finally letting Firmin continue to elaborate on his idea.
“Madame Giry must know how to find him,” Firmin continued, “she could convince him, couldn’t she? We offer him more than what he asked us for and have his works performed by the man with a voice that no one has heard!”
“And what of his face?” Andre asked, “how can we put a creature like that before the people to watch?”
“People go to the fair to see it don’t they? Why can’t they come to the theatre to see it?” Firmin smiled.
“You are making the opera into a freak show!” Andre said feeling completely against the idea.
“Then have them wear masked like they had done in Don Juan. You have to admit Andre its probably one of the best ideas we’ve had to save the opera,” Firmin said with a sigh.
“And what if he is really dead and worse what if he refuses to help us?” Andre asked, “it has only been three year since everything fell apart with Miss Daae. Perhaps he has really given up on everything.”
“It is a chance we must take. We must find something to keep this opera house alive. Something that we can use to lour the talent back to us. Our ballet troop is the best in Paris all we need is the vocal talent to bring to us the biggest spectacle that Paris has yet to see. We need the phantom to return to the opera and we need to use his publicity to bring in the patrons. We are desperate,” Firmin said slamming his fist down onto the table.
“Yes but what if Madame Giry refuses to help us?” Andre asked thinking of every possible scenario.
“Can’t you be optimistic for one minute Andre, really,” Firmin huffed, “think of how amazing it would be to have an opera written for the revival of our theatre. Think of the masses of people that will line up to sing when we announce that we have an original, a brand new opera, to be debuted at the opera populaire. Think of it how the people will come by the thousands to see the show and to celebrate the wonderful spectacle that will be the rebirth of the opera in Paris. Just think of it Andre!”
“Even if the phantom doesn’t perform to say that we have the phantom’s newest opera would be publicity enough,” Andre said finally sharing the vision, “but there is one problem Firmin.”
“And what is that?” Richard Firmin asked as he rolled his eyes.
“Where are we going to get the money to fund this revival. We are going to have to pay the phantom double and any new actors if we get them. How are we going to be able to afford that?” Andre asked.
“We’ll cross that bridge when it needs to be crossed,” Firmin stated as he placed some money in the waiters hand and stood up from the table, placing his black top hat on his head he said, “We know what we have to do right now. We must bring back the publicity. We have to find the Phantom of the Opera.”

Chapter 3: The Phantom of the Opera

The theatre became quiet as the ballet troop finished their rehearsal. The giggling young ladies left in a large group and headed away to their dormitories and then they would be taking the rest of the day to be out in the sunshine of the lovely summer day. Madame Giry sat alone in the front row of seats and watched as everything was moved into their proper places of storage. The pit band was also leaving and Monsieur Reyer, the conductor, was also on his way. He smiled at Mme. Giry, who looked very distressed as she sat alone in silence. She forced a smile back, it was a tired and afraid smile. It worried the conductor enough that he took a seat next to the old woman.
“There is trouble in your eyes this afternoon,” he said kindly.
“There are many secrets in the place,” was her answer, “more than most would have in a life time. It is exhausting.”
“You don’t have to do anything that you don’t feel comfortable with,” he said to her as he heard some of his musicians coming near.
“This is something I have to start if not to end it,” she said as she smiled again and watched as Monsieur Andre and Monsieur Firmin also entered the theatre.
“Ah monsieur Reyer, will the ballet be ready to open next week?” Monsieur Firmin asked with a smile as Monsieur Andre slipped the note into Madame Giry’s hand.
“Of course it will be ready,” Reyer said with a confused look on his face, “why wouldn’t it be?”
“No reason it shouldn’t,” Firmin smiled, “just wanted to hear some good news today.”
“I am sure it will be a wonderful ballet,” Andre smiled and he and Firmin turned and left the theatre again.
“They are acting incredibly strange,” Reyer said to Madame Giry as he too turned and walked out of the theatre.
“You have no idea how strange things are going to get,” She sighed to herself and looked at the envelope now in her hands.
Madame Giry was a proud woman. She never presented herself in any other way. She was always tall and stern and well dressed. Her hair was always neatly pinned and her clothing was always proper and pressed. She always wore a very blank look on her face and was strict with her dancers. She wasn’t one to give false praises but if the dance was going well she gave praise where praise was due. And for all this she was one of the most respected people to set foot in the theatre. It was an unspoken respect that everyone showed to her and they believed her to be the smartest and the wisest to of all the employees. She treated many of her young ballerinas as her own children. She scolded them when they misbehaved but she was the first to care for them if anything was wrong and she spent many of her nights at the bedsides of her girls if they were ill. Her daughter Meg was becoming more and more like her mother as the years passes. She remained with the opera ballet all her life. She took on another care role next to her mother and though she had many suitors and her mother insisted that she take a husband Meg remained a devoted servant to the theatre. Meg was beautiful beyond compare but she did not like to show it. She wore simple things when she was not dancing and she pinned her hair much like her mother. Her only difference was she did not carry a cane like her mother, although her mother did not need the cane, it was more a symbol of her status for everyone knew that Madame Giry could move more gracefully than any of her ballerinas. When she danced it was like she floated on air and most of her dancers idolised her. Some of the happiest moments for the ballet troop was to simply watch the demonstrations of their beloved teacher.
Meg noticed her mother slouching in a seat at the front of the theatre. Slowly she walked toward her mother not saying a word, her footsteps so light that it was nearly impossible to hear her coming.
“Meg is there something wrong my darling?” Madame Giry said but did not turn to see her daughter coming.
Meg ran quicker now to her mothers side and knelt down on the floor before her. She looked deep into her mothers brown eyes and noticed a great pain within them. She took her mothers hands and Mme. Giry knew her daughter could ready what was wrong. She sighed deeply as tears began to roll down her face. “Mama why do you carry such a burden today? It has hunched you over like an old woman and it plays on your face making you look tired and old. What is wrong?” Meg said as she took a seat next to her mother and hugged her.
“Do you think the theatre is ready for the return of the phantom?” the old woman asked her daughter looking deep into her eyes.
“This is his theatre, mama, you know that. The question is, is he ready to return to a place of bad memories?” Meg said she could already tell what was going to happen, what had to happen. She and her mother had a great connection with each other. They could tell just by looking at each other and by exchanging very few words exactly what was to happen, “would you like me to help you find him? I know how to reach his lair,” she said softly into her mothers ear.
“I don’t think he will be where you thought he would be,” Madame Giry said, “I know that he has a house further underground. I may not even be under this theatre. I could be very far and very deep under Paris. But I myself have not seen him in this place for three years.”
“I have seen him,” Meg said softly, “he is still around. I have seen him in the box,” she said as she pointed up to box five, “perhaps he is there now and listening to us. You know he is always here. You can always feel him.”
“I know he is here,” Madame Giry sighed, “I best start my search,” she said as she stood. She leaned heavily on her cane.
“Shall I come with you?” Meg asked as she looked at her poor mother. She was not the vibrant woman that she normally was.
“No, Meg, I think I should go alone. Should anything happen to me you will have to take over with the ballet. Love them and keep them safe my child and never forget the power that lies within this place.” the old woman said.
“Mother please don’t speak like that. How could he lay a hand on you for the goodness and kindness that you once showed him,” Meg said as she began to weep.
“You must be prepare for the worst my darling,” the old woman said as she too began to cry and taking her daughter into her arms she whispered, “I am so proud of you my child, I love you,” and with that she disappeared into the darkness of the theatre. Meg was left along. She fell to her knees before the stage and folding her hands over her heart she began to pray.
The ballet mistress slipped on silently through the theatre. She had left her cane behind and walked as silently along the floor as a mouse. She was quick and agile as she moved down stairs and further into the theatre than she has ever travelled before. Before her lay many stairs that travelled down into the depths of the earth. They fell lower and lower like a spring and down in the blackness, sick silver specks of light, from her candle, danced off the dark black water below. This stair case was a flood way. It was possible for the water levels to rise and fill this column. Madame Giry was not aware of how the water column worked but water was used in the productions to run the primitive mechanics of the theatre. She began to feel a greater fear than she had ever felt before as she came closer and closer to the water below. As she walked passages off the stair case began to appear, like hallways into hell they reached out into total darkness. Not even the rats would come this far down. It was cold down this deep in the earth. She looked above her and could no longer see the lights of the theatre floors above only darkness all around her. The sound of the water was becoming clearer. It was moving water, fast rushing under the theatre. She was filled with a coldness that shocked her soul. She feared that this rushing water would soon fill the stairs and she would be lost within it but she continued downward into the blackness. Finally she came to a place that was like a platform next to a rushing river. The water did not look deep, she could see the bottom of the river in the light of her candle. The brick of the man made river were grey and warn but still very visible. Madame Giry looked to either side, from one the water was coming and one the water was going and she was stuck. She did not know which way she should go now. She also grew frightened of the powers of the phantom. What kind of traps he had left around this places as to not be found. She chose to go against the water and see where it originated and headed up stream. She walked slowly and carefully watching every step she made. She knew that if she followed only this rushing water that she would be able to turn around and go back to where she had first started. She walked on for a very long time watching as she passed lost and decaying things. Branches of threes were stuck in this place stripped of their bark and white as the bones of a skeleton. There was no signs of any life or that anyone had been down here. Her feet made imprints in the dust that lined the walk that was the edge of the man made river. The rushing water became louder and louder as if she were coming to some kind of a water fall. It was the sound of water falling into a great pool. She looked over the edge again and noticed that the water was becoming deeper and was rushing by turning the water white. Her small candle could no longer penetrate to the bottom of the river. She strained into the darkness before her and could not see anything. The wall beside her was flat and nothing seemed to penetrate it. She walked on more slowly, until she came face to face with a great wall. In this wall there were three large holes approximately ten feet up the face of the wall. And from these three large holes spued gallons and gallons of water. This was the origins of were the water was coming from. But what was behind the wall. She placed a hand on it, it was cold and damp. She could tell it was thick, perhaps it was yet another water column like the stair case she had come down from the theatre. She sighed heavily feeling some relief that she didn’t run into any danger. She leaned her back against the damp wall and noticing that her candle was nearly gone she decided that it would be best if she went back and rested. She would follow the water down stream when she returned and hoped for more luck in her search. She took a deep breath and lifted herself off the wall. She walked a few feet before she heard a strange grinding noise. Fear filled her body, what could that be? She was paralysed with fear at the thought that perhaps she had triggered some trap and that water would fill the space before she could out run it. Suddenly there was an arm around her waist and her candle was extinguished. She was pulled back in direction that seemed impossible, a wall should have been where she was being pulled. The grinding sound came again and then silence followed and she was pinned against a wall by two hands on her shoulder.
“Are you really looking to be killed old woman?” a voice pierced the silence and the blackness.
“Oh god please let me not die,” She whispered as tears began to run down her face and suddenly an oil lamp was lit and the dark passage burst into light. She turned her face away quickly from the light as it blinded her, when her eyes had become used the brightness she noticed how long the passage stretched out in one direction and a oily black wall was right next to her. She had been released and standing before her, lamp in hand, was man robbed in black, his disfigured face visible through the hood, “what are you doing down here woman, you know it isn’t safe,” the voice was gentler.
Madame Giry remained silent for a moment as she stared into his disfigured face, “Erik are you well? Is everything ok?” she asked in a very motherly tone.
“Come,” he said and turned away from her, “walk exactly where I walk.” he said and headed off down the passage with his oil lamp.
Madame Giry walked carefully down the passage behind the man in black. He stepped from side to side in places and helped her over some other that were protecting the passage with traps and trip wires. Finally they came to a ladder that went up into the ceiling. He stopped and looked back at her for a moment as she looked up, “will you make it?” he asked.
“I’m sure I can,” she said as he stepped aside.
“Climb to the top I will follow you in case,” he said and motioned for her to start.
The climb into darkness was long, Mme Giry couldn’t see a thing in front of her as she climbed. She only felt for the rungs of the ladder and continued up into the darkness. It seemed to stretch on forever. She wondered if she was climbing up as many steps as she came down in the first place. Finally she felt the top of the ladder curve and she stepped off onto yet another platform. She couldn’t see anything in the darkness and so she stayed with one hand on the bars of the handle until the man reached the top as well. When the light from the oil lamp lit the platform she could see that it was solid stone for about 4 feet then a great drop into a large hole. Water could be heard at the top pouring into this place from different directions. It was like a giant drain. The phantom moved on ahead of her. He led the way around the great whole to another wall where there was a mass of stones. He pushed on one of the stones and it moved to one side leading into another passage. At the end of the passage there was a bright light. He turned to Madame Giry and stepped aside, “go in,” he said to her and then closed the secret door as he had entered.
This last passage was not as long as the others, only about one hundred feet more. When she reached the end of the passage Madame Giry was in a large room that was brightly lit. A few steps that led down to yet another stream. Large lamps hung from the ceiling casting light around the room and supporting the vegetation that was now growing all around. Small miniature trees grew in large pots and moss covered all of the brick and stone work that covered the floor of the room. From the trees flew tropical birds and small animals like rabbits and squirls ran to and from Erik as he walked around his green space. He removed the hood from his head showing his face to the light and the animals. The birds flew to him, the rabbits were not afraid of him and he seemed happy in this place. Madame Giry stood in awe as she watched him with the little things. He was gentle and spoke softly to them. Finally he turned to her and motioned for her to come near him where he placed a brilliant red bird on her arm and watched as she fearfully reached up to the great red bird and stroked its feathers.
“You look cold, woman would you care to come in?” he asked as he motioned to a large wooden door at the other end of the green room.
“I would love to Erik, thank you,” she smiled as the bird flew from her and off to another small tree.
They entered the large door, into another great room, one that looked much like the hall of the opera house. A large crystal chandelier hung in the middle of the room and from this hall there were other rooms. All were brightly lit and well decorated. One could not tell that this palace was underground. Or judging from what was found of the phantom’s lair that he could be living in such luxury. He lead the old woman into a salon and sat her down in front of a fire. It was a smaller room with large paintings on the walls. The paintings were not of real places but of great imagined lands. With rivers and trees of great colours. Erik sat in another chair opposite the old woman and looked strangely at her.
“Thank you for inviting me in,” she finally said breaking the awkward silence.
“Well I felt it only fair considering you were brave enough to make it further than anyone else,” he said with a smile as he watched her look upon him without fear.
“It is good to see you,” she smiled, “you look well and happy, we all thought you had left us.”
“It is my curse to live in solitude I suppose,” he sighed, “I’ve caused enough trouble and pain for many people and for my pour Christine I thought it best to just live out the rest of my days in my world of make believe.”
“No one should have to live without companionship,” Madame Giry sighed, “should you like, Meg and I would come to visit you more often. She is a very bright girl and very fascinated by your genius.”
“Do you think that would be wise?” he asked, “wouldn’t people become suspicious of you? I have my animals to keep me company.”
“Well, that is actually why I have been sent in search of you,” Madame Giry said as she pulled the letter out of her apron pocket and handed it to him, “everything is explained in the letter.” she added and watched the fire as he opened the letter and read it slowly.
Erik sat for a moment in silence pondering what had been written. He had in fact been working on another opera. He never thought it would be performed but this did give him the opportunity to release some of his compositions to the world. He didn’t however like all of the talk of publicity in the letters but if, in fact, the theatre was destroyed there was the underlying possibility that his home would be more accessible to the public and he risked being found. He sighed deeply and looked up at Madame Giry, “do you think I should?” he asked in a bit of a childish tone.
“It would not be just the theatre that you save, Erik, but all of our jobs and our lives would all be indebted to you. You would be given great creative freedom but it is something that you must take up with Andre and Firmin. Their offer is very generous and they are very desperate,” she said as she leaned back in the chair.
“What if my opera isn’t as successful as they hope it to be? Then don’t they still risk the loss of the theatre?” he asked.
“I am sure your opera is a masterpiece and you have become the legend that people speak of, whatever they do the people will come if only to chance at glimpse of the mighty Phantom of the Opera,” Madame Giry stated.
Erik smiled at little at the address, he hadn’t though of his involvement with the theatre as becoming something of a legend. He believed that he would still be able to live his quiet life in this his world of make believe and still be able to bring the theatre back into his life. He had hardly ventured out of his home in three years and did miss the freedom that he felt when he was able to find the roof of the theatre on the brilliant stary nights, “I think I would be best,” he said after a moment, “that I have a meeting with the managers before making any decisions.”
“That is probably a very good idea,” she smiled as a small cat came into the room and jumped up onto Erik’s lap and began to per loudly.
She was happy to see him living such a normal life aside from the fact that he was deep underground and living alone. But there was still a sparkle in his eyes. It was easy to read in him the want he had to experience different things in life and this the idea of having his opera performed without any underlying premiss was something that played greatly on his mind. He placed the cat on the floor and stood from his seat. He walked to a desk at the back side of the room, away from the fireplace and busied himself with a quick note. He folded it and placed it in an envelope sealing it and walking back to Madame Giry, “will you give this to my managers, it tells them were to meet me in two days time. That should give me enough time to compose myself enough to meet with them on a friendly basis,” he said as he handed her the note.
“Oh course I can do that for you Erik,” she smiled and stood.
“Alright, now that you are rested I will take you out of here,” he said as he through his cloak over himself again.
“Thank you,” She smiled and kissed him softly on his cheek, “I do appreciate your kindness,” she smiled as his face turned a slight shade of pink.
“I will take you out by another way, it is simpler than the last you travelled. If you would like to return to visit me, you and Meg are the only people I will permit, you must come back the way you first came and I will hear you coming,” he said and smiled as he noticed a glimmer in her eyes, “why do you look at me like that Madame?” he asked.
“Because it fills my heart with joy that you would permit me to return to you and to become your friend,” she smiled.
His heart leapt within him, he had never had a friend before. Not a real one at least and this was something new that he looked forward to having. He smiled at the old woman as he pulled the hood up around his face and led her too the large wooden doors. Once again he was out in the green space, he walked quickly across the mossy grass and toward the river. At the river he opened another hidden door and led the way through it. They walked for a very long time along a very dark passage until they came to a wall. Erik moved his hand lightly over the wall and suddenly it slid to one side. Stepping out through the opening Madame Giry found herself once again in the great water column that led back up to the opera house. Erik had followed her out onto the stairs he removed the lid from his oil lamp so that the flame was no longer protected by the glass, “give me you candle,” he said to the old woman. She passed to him the remains of the candle and he lit it from his lamp, “this should last you till you have reach the light of the theatre.” he said and the candle light lit his face enough to show that he was smiling.
“Thank you so much for your hospitality, Erik, when I return to you is there anything you would like me to bring back to you?” she asked.
“If it is possible I would like you to return to me, my music box,” he said softly.
“I will do my best to regain it for you,” she smiled and watched as Erik’s lamp light disappeared back behind the secret door. She smiled happily to herself, she knew exactly where the music box was being kept and could obtain it very easily. She ran as quickly as she could, without letting the candle go out, up the stairs and back into the familiarity of the theatre.
She walked quickly out onto the stage and noticed that Meg was still where she had left her. She was on her knees and deep in prayer.
“Meg my darling,” Madame Giry called out as a smile covered her face.
“Mama you are alright, Thank heavens!” Meg cried as she ran to meet her mother in an embrace, “did you find him?”
“I did,” the old woman said, “and we will be seeing him again,” she smiled and quickly walked with her daughter out of the theatre.

Chapter 5: Escape to the Darkness.

Pounding, pounding all around. Quick paced and drowning. Banging, crashing, screaming with the rising of a storm or the coming of the sun. It could be heard in the darkness of the night. The landscape moved by quickly, shadows staring and judging. Branches grabbed, like cold dead fingers out of the darkness, and tor at his cloak. The wind was cold and dry. It laughed, it howled, it screamed. The summer night felt more like that of autumn filling his nose with the smell of rot and decay. The trees danced with the force of the wind. Clouds were rolling in over the moon and the stars. Someone or something had angered the elements. The spirits of the night were disturbed and angry. They were restless in the darkness. They were furious. Voices, hundreds of them, speaking in hundreds of tongues teased and taunted. Madness was the destination, true and horrible madness.
Erik road onward into the darkness, following a road no longer travelled by man. He fled for his life along this path. He glanced over his shoulder, no one was following but he could hear voices all around him. He could not move fast enough. His head was spinning in circles. The scene from the cemetery playing over and over in his mind. The faces of the managers becoming more distorted and sinister every minute. The wind rushed at his bare face. His cape flew up behind him as he pushed C sar to the limits of his speed. His heart pounded faster with every beet made by the landing of the horse on the ground. The steady drumming of its hooves was like the call to march; a death march to his own demise. His mind was clouded with screaming and laughing. Words he didn’t understand came rushing at him. Pity, mercy, forgiveness, where was it now? He was breathing heavily, out of breath and filled with a feeling that hadn’t over come him in a great long time. Fear and anger was over coming his entire being. Erik was terrified, petrified, mortified. Every and any emotion was hitting him with the full force of the wind. He felt ill. He felt dizzy. What had he done? Blackness flashed before his eyes. Balance was leaving him. A strange tightness restricted his breathing. He was panicking. He was in shock. Tangae struggle to keep up with the horse, who ran fast as the lightning that began to flash through the forest trail. She bounded over rocks and stumps trying to stay as close as possible but it was like they were fleeing from the dawn and the waking of the world. Fleeing into the storm and the dangers that turned the tides of life.
“Whoa,” Erik said as he pulled the reigns and slowed the horse down. The Cat dug its claws into the soft earth trying hard not to come into a collision with its master or the horse. Erik climbed down slowly and fell to his knees. He felt nauseous and flushed. He ripped off his cloak to reveal tattered clothing, old and ragged. Things he thought he should be wearing as a ghost and a corps. He fell onto all fours his hands digging deep into the ground as voices, in his head, swirled with laughter. He shut his eyes and felt himself fall. He hit the ground hard and groaned as he rolled onto his side. He lay on the cold earth, the side of his face in the black, fragrant soil. The rain hit him hard as the dirt became moist. His hand wrapped around his head as it pounded. Stinging pain and pressure developed behind his eyes. His world was spinning in circles. His heart was racing. He could hardly breath and when he did the rain was inhaled. He coughed as the water and dirt hit the back of his throat. His body was hot and cold all at the same time. Tears of pain and fear filled his eyes and mixed with the cold rain. He sat up as the tiger came near to him. She startled him. He jumped away from her, his eyes blurred from the mud and the rain. Then his mind cleared momentarily. He felt the paper in a pocked. He ripped from his old warn vest pocket, the envelope and slammed the money onto the damp ground, “what have I done?” he whispered to the cat who came to his side and nuzzled him gently, “Tangae, what have I done?” he said again as his face fall into the silver, white fur of the great cat, “they have seen you, I have betrayed you.”
The cat purred lovingly toward its master and laid in the mud and the water by his side.
“I am no longer what I have wished to be, a corps, a memory, a ghost. I am again the feared and the loathed. A wild beast bringing fear and death. All I wanted was to be forgotten,” he said softly as he curled childishly into a ball. He pulled his knees closed to his chest and wrapped his arms tightly around them. He rocked himself back and forth and watched anxiously as the shadows danced and the lightning flashed, in the darkness, “this is not what I want to be but have I any other choice. If the opera is not saved, then we will be hunted like your mother. No one will be around to save us this time,” he said looking at the tiger. He forcefully rubbed and cracked his knuckles. He blinked his eyes harshly and irregularly. His breathing was shallow and quick but not as it should be, “they’ll find me you know,” he said as he looking into the cats blue eyes, “...us... they’ll take you away from me, kill you, skin you, hang you on a wall like a trophy. How could I let them see you, not even Christine laid eyes on you! They’ll parade me around like a circus freak and hang me as an example for my crimes. But my music, what else could I do for my music? To make it heard? To save us a home till our dying days?” he asked as he rocked more violently, “it is my obsession, my cures and my downfall.”
C sar had walked circles around his master and watched as his countenance changed. He stood close, protecting the beings that lay on the ground, in the mud and the water. The rain had become harsher. The thunder crashed and screamed in the atmosphere. The lightning struck the ground unforgivingly. Vapour came from his nose as he breathed in and out. His eyes glowed yellow in the flashes of light. He looked like a demon himself on this the road to hell. He made harsh noises in all directs to keep away the predators, and nervously glanced around up and down the unused road. It was dark and yet the clouds moved fast. Shadows of the trees and the rocks moved like spirits in the night, or perhaps they were the spirits coming to fetch Erik to return him finally the darkness of the underworld.
They had left the cemetery and the managers of the opera and travelled down a road that ran along the back side of the well populated cemetery. The storm was off in the distance as they left, it was building now in force. Back behind the cemetery was an abandoned church, one not used for ages. The walls were moss covered, the windows and doors gone. The roof had long since caved in and trees now crept out through the openness. Behind this structure of rock and wood was an old and abandoned road. The road ran from the back of the church off into the forest to a place that was no longer visited by human beings and hadn’t been for a good long time before Erik had even set foot on Parisian soil. It was a path to hell, he had called it when he first found it and travelled it. It was a path travelled only by the ghosts now and Erik had, for many years, been one of them. It was by this road that he first found his lake and his shelter when his youth brought him to hide in Paris. He lived wild in the old church with his pet until he found his way beneath the city to a place that captured his imagination and held the soul that he had long ago lost. It had become his sanctuary, his home and his playground. He learned much about life from watching the operas and had forgotten many of the cruelties of the real world. Until his fantasy world was shattered again by heart break and more murder.
His life at the opera hadn’t been completely constant. The desires of youth did take him, on many occasions, away from Paris and into the darkness of the world. It was on one such occasion that his beloved companion did come to his arms. He had been taken onto an expedition with his expertise. He was young and unknowing at the time but well versed in capture by lasso. He had watched as a man stalked and killed a beautiful orange cat in the jungle of India. The kill was not that harsh on the young Erik it was what was to come later. The man, hunter, had spotted the cubs of the cat laying low in the brush. Taking more pleasure in the idea of a trophy of white baby fur without the stripes was more than Erik could bear. To kill for fur and status was falling into the root of all evil. The cubs were defenceless without their mother and this man would kill for beauty. Erik hadn’t been quick enough to save the two. The shot sounded like thunder as the red blood stained the white of the baby. His lasso fell around his guides neck and not hesitating Erik strung him up next to the mother beast to be found later. Shaking and crying the smaller of the two cubs, the female only weeks old, was scooped into the young Erik’s arms and he disappeared, never to be seen again in India.
Erik sat defenceless in the mud and the water next to his cherished one. She had been with him for many years, nursed to her health by a young outcast of the world she became his companion and never looked upon him with fear again. The thunder broke the silence of the night as the images of Tangae’s struggle flashed once more in Erik’s eyes. He heard her cries louder than the voices that clouded his mind. He let out a sob and buried his face in her white and chocolate stripped fur.
“I have failed you both,” Erik said as he covered his face with his filthy hands and sobbed, “I am no protector for the week or the innocent. I am just a danger, a threat to your well being. You must leave me! Years do not change who you are I will always be a murderer,” he said as he pushed into the soft fur of the cat. She moved closer, placed her giant head at his feet in a puddle that had been forming. “I know you have no were to go, you never have, my pet,” he whispered to the cat, “since the day I found you, when we were both young and foolish. You but a cub without a mother and me the same. We are like family. Beast in all the eyes of the world. You are my only loved ones and shall always be that way. I will keep you hidden and well cared for. If I must kill to save your lives I will do so again,” he said as he stood up shaking, “The Opera will be finished, I will do it for you.” Erik placed his hands softly on the animals head and ran his fingers through the silk like fur. The cats ears twitched and she raised her head to look into her masters eyes. He grinned as the blue eyes fell lovingly on him. The only eyes that had always loved and never feared.
He stood shaking and week, leaning heavily on the cat for balance. He still felt sick to his stomach and unable to, really, comprehend what he had done, out in the cemetery, that evening. But the sun would be rising, to push away the storm and he had to hide his precious away from the world.
C sar became calm as the man stood and placed a shaking hand on his neck. The horse knew the path, a path well travelled by the ghosts. He would lead his master to the place by the river. The place where they would escape to darkness and comfort again.
Erik reached up to pull himself into the saddle that was mounted on the horses back. He felt week, his arms and his legs could hardly lift him. Tangae place her head close to Erik’s back and with a mighty push he was forced back onto the horse.
The journey was slow and nearly painful, as the wind and the clouds brought forth more and more rain. It was a fierce rain, pouring down loud and hard on the travellers. The steps of the horse and the cat matched each other as the phantom, like an old man, hunched over in the saddle. His head was hung low, he had left his cloak to rot in the earth along with the money that he was given. The cold rain ran down his mask less face, dripping off his nose and over his lips. He hoped it would wash away some of his sins and cleanse his soul. His hands shook from cold as he held onto the reigns. C sar and Tangae moved on through the pouring rain never slowing, it was their turn to protect and save.
They arrived at a river that ran across the uncharted road. It ended with the rushing water that ran perpendicular to it. Across the rushing water the other end of the road could be seem but it stopped abruptly by a line of thick trees. The trees had grown in thick and dark when the road was no longer used. C sar stepped cautiously into the rushing water as Tangae remained on the other bank. It was a slow crossing but before long the horse and its passenger had made it safely across. The large cat followed stepping easily into the water that came quickly up to its neck and moved fast over its body, but soon she too made it across and they looked strangely at the wall of dark trees. Erik, slowly removed himself from the horse and pulled the reigns over the horses head. He walked hunched over, soaking wet and shivering to the line of trees. He pushed a few low lying branches out of the way and ducked under, the cat did the same and soon, struggling with the lowness of the entrance the horse did as well. The road did not continue through the trees. There on the other side was a whole different world. Greeted by two great stone pillars and ivy draped walls was another cemetery, the great gates were covered with creeping rose bushes and thorns. The iron gate was only parted enough for the travellers to enter. Small, warn head stones littered the forgotten cemetery. It was a small square place, boxed in on all sides by ivy and rose bushes. In the middle of the ground was a large crypt with doors that rose to a forty five degree angle to the ground. This mass of stone and moss dominated the silence of sacred place.
Erik walked slowly to the great crypt and pulled at a brass lock that held shut the heavy iron doors. He pulled a key from around his neck and placed it in the lock, with a click, it fell away and the door was able to open. The doors opened silently and easily for Erik, they were well used and the cat and the horse came closer as they lay open. Below the doors were marble steps, as white as the horse and the tiger. Torches were lit down at the bottom of the staircase where the ground became flat and the sound of water could be heard. Tangae and C sar walked quickly down the stairs and watched as Erik closed the heavy doors behind them. They came down with a bang and the lock was replaced. Erik rested his hands against the cold doors of the crypt. Below his pets were safe again in the darkness of his world. He placed the key back around his neck and walked slowly around to the back side of the crypt. There, at the back of the monument was a solid stone wall. It was covered with moss and soaked by the rain. The sun has begun to show itself through the trees that circled the forgotten resting place and the clouds began to move off. The rain was easing as well and the thunder had diminished to a faint rumbling in the sky.
On the solid brick wall Erik leaned for a moment. His head was still throbbing and his hands still shook. He was soaked through and through and chills had taken over his entire body. The journey through the cold underground was not going to be easy on him but at the end of it all was his comfortable warm palace. He straightened up again taking a deep breath and focussing his attention back at the wall. To one side was a brick that looked to be loose. Erik reached out and pushed the brick in. Suddenly a small door at the base of the wall opened. It was no bigger then one of the white tomb stones and Erik had to get down on his stomach to get into it. On the inside was a rope that dropped down to the bottom of the stairs where his two pets waited.
Erik descended into the darkness of the underground passage. The rope hugged close to one wall, making it easy for him to simply walk down the wall with the aid of the rope. The rain continued to pour in through the small hole entrance. Erik stared up at it silently the rope still resting in his hands. His breathing was shallow, he looked tired and near collapsing but with a flick of his wrist the rope hit the wall hard. A rumbling was heard and soon the stones moved back into their place to hide the last of the secret tunnel.
At the base of the stairs the torches lit the underground river, it was the river that fed the lake, deep under the city. It flowed quickly in its banks of stone and brick. The far side of the river ran right against the wall. But the bank closest to the staircase was stopped by a coble stone walk way. The walk was wide enough and high enough for a horse and rider to travel along comfortable. Tangae moved along ahead as Erik remounted C sar, “return to our safety while I rest,” he said to the horse in a low voice. He sat, soaking in his tattered old cloths atop the horse, who followed the cat. The path led them deep under the city of Paris and ended at the doors of the house of the ghost.

Chapter 7: Motherly Worry.

Madame Giry fought against the water that was splashing up, more violently than before against her as she tried harder and harder to pull Erik up, at least till he was sitting. The man was conscious but only barely, something was holding him back, as if he didn’t want to be saved. His body was stiff and soaked through from whatever had happened. He nearly felt dead but she could still hear his breathing. She no longer felt the cold as she struggled to pull him, against his will, to try and save his life. She felt an obligation to help him, for it was she who had agreed to start this in the first place. The water was rising faster and faster around them. It would only be a matter of time before it was above the edge of the small path and they would be in very serious trouble.
“Erik, please, you have to listen to me, you have to try and sit up so that your pets can support you,” she yelled over all of the noise, “if you can do that then I can get what I need to help you but I can’t do this alone.” she yelled, “please I am sorry for all of this. I should have never agreed to it in the first place.”
The mass of wet cloths and dead weight, that was Erik shifted a little as Madame Giry pushed and pulled at him to move him. She breathed a sigh of relief but only a very small one. Tangae watched her attentively and then finally moved over to where her masters head was. She crawled along the wet ground, soiling her beautiful white and black fir and placing her body behind her masters so that he could lean on her.
“Good,” Giry said as she placed a hand on the tigers head, feeling no fear toward the gentle beast, “now stay where you are and don’t move until I return to with help, he needs to be out of this cold and wetness if we want to help him at all,” she said looking into the cats yellow eyes. It seemed to her like the big feline understood every word and soon the horse had moved in and laid down to try and help support Erik as well. “You see Erik, even though you seem not to want to be save your pet will not let you do this to yourself. They rely on you to take care of them because there is no one else to do it and now they will do everything they can to help you. We will get you out of this and write whatever was made wrong. But for now you need to hang on. I’ll be right back,” Madame Giry said and ran back the way she had come.
The water splashed up around her feet as she ran though the darkness. Her eyes had adjusted to it and though it was very late in the evening she could not allow herself to feel the fatigue that had started to take over. Her worry had become stronger than any of the signals her body sent up to her. She would not rest until she knew that she had helped the pour man out of the rising water and found out all that she could of what had happened on that dreadful night.
Through the water and the noise she ran until she reached the stairs that lead up into the quiet of the theatre. She breathed deeply but could not allow herself to slow down or to rest. She hiked up the hem of her now soaking dress and began to run. She ran as quickly and as silently as she could. Her ears rang as the sound of the water died away and the stillness of the theatre began to come in around her. Floor after floor she ran and soon she was in the vast blackness that was the theatre but she didn’t stop there. Up even further she ran, up through the ballet floors and passed the dormitories till she came to her daughters room. Meg had graduated to a private room in the theatre as some of the older ballerinas do. She banged frantically on the door to her daughters room.
“Mother what is the matter?” Meg gasped as she opened the door to her dripping mother, “where have you been?” she asked.
“No time Meg,” her mother said as she flung some of the wet pieces of her clothing on the floor of the small room, “grab your smelling salts and a shall, that’s all you be able to handle.” she said as she through some more of her wet clothing onto the ground till she was left only with a damp dressing gown. She reached out and took a dry frock from Meg and then rushed for the door again.
“What is the matter,” Meg asked frantically as she hurried to put her things into a small purse and ran after her mother.
“You have to keep it secret Meg,” Madame Giry said as she held her daughters hand and they ran through the darkness, “I am taking you to the Phantom,” she said as they began to head downward through the spiralling column of stairs.
“Is something the matter?” Meg asked as she ran more quickly.
“I believe so,” madame Giry said with more of a whisper, “strange things are happening tonight. I believe I may be to blame for it all. The world is unpleased and the water is rising quickly we have to get them out of it,” she said and they both fell into silence.
The noise of the rushing water grew louder and louder as they travelled further down the column of steps. At the bottom the water had begun to rise over the lip of the walk way and pooled beneath the bottom step.
“Are we to go into that?” Meg cried as she watched the water rush past her. Her eyes had not yet adapted to the darkness as completely as her mothers.
“We must, stay close to me and run,” Madame Giry yelled over the sound and Meg obeyed.
Hiking up the bottoms of their skirts and splashing as they ran they made there way against the water. The travel was harder now than Madame Giry had earlier felt. It pulled her back toward where she had come and the ground beneath the water had become slippery and treacherous but still they pressed on. The water swirled all around them and grew deeper and deeper by the moment until finally they saw a patch of white in the darkness. The tiger still lay on the floor pushing its masters head above the water and struggling itself.
“Quickly,” Madame Giry cried as she rushed to Erik’s side, “the smelling salts,” she said as she pulled the hood away from his face and revealed the disfigurement to Meg. His eyes were closed, his breathing very shallow and still he looked frightening. Meg hesitated for a moment before she gabbed onto the tiger to steady herself and pulled the small purse free from the ties of her bodice.
Madame Giry quickly passed the open bottle below Erik’s nose and prayed out loud that it would work. Meg held her breath and could see the panic in the animals eyes. Suddenly Erik’s eyes flew open and he gasped for air.
“Erik,”Madame Giry yelled, “can you here me?”
He breathed deep and shook all over.
“Erik answer me, please,” Madame Giry begged, “are you hurt?”
“No,” Erik said as he tried to push the woman away from him.
Tangae growled at him. Erik looked strangely at the cat at his side and then to his panicked horse and gave in to the help that had been offered to him, “no, I’m only week,” he said forcing his voice.
“Is there an easier way to get you home?” Madame Giry asked. At the sound of the question Cesar stood from where he lay, “clearly I should have asked the horse in the first place,” she said a little more lightheartedly as she tried to calm the worry in Meg’s face.
“Can you get up onto the horse?” Meg asked as she stooped down to Erik.
“You should ride, my dear,” Erik said as he tried to force himself up.
“Clearly not,” Meg said as she reached out and grabbed his arm as he began to slip back to the ground.
“Is there an easier way than through this wall?” Madame Giry asked again this time more forcefully to Erik.
“Yes,” he said as he leaned against Meg, “through the way I brought you out.”
“Back at the stairs,” she said to Meg.
“You’ll have to ride, Monsieur,” Meg said as she supported him, “it would take us to long and the water is growing to strong for you to walk on and will be far to deep for all of us very soon.”
“You’ll ride with him,” Madame Giry said as she looked deep into Meg’s eyes, “we can’t chance him falling off the horse and being swept down with the wild current.
It wasn’t an easy task to get Erik onto Cesar’s back. He was drenched through from the water and the ground had become quite slippery. It had risen now up to their knees and though the horse would get them out of the water it would still be a slow trip back to the stairs. With much effort and shoving from Meg, her mother and Tangae, Erik was finally draped over the horses back.
“Quick Meg,” Madame Giry said as she pushed Erik further into the saddle, “you’ll have to be his balance, I’ll be behind you with the Tangae,” she said as she rested a tired hand on Tangae’s head.
“Are you sure mother?” Meg asked as she stood before the great white steed, “you look terrible and I could make it much easier by foot then you could right now.
“No, you will ride,” She said as forcefully as if she was running rehearsal, “quickly child before he loose his balance again.”
Meg grabbed hold of the saddle and swung herself up behind the Phantom. She reached around his waist and grabbed at the reigns that he held loosely in his hand, “Alright Monsieur,” she said holding him tightly, “off we go.”
Madame Giry watched a moment as Meg eased the horse down the passage as close to the wall as she could stay. Erik remained balanced in front of her and yet he sunk low as he road. He looked old and defeated, not at all the fright he had once been. She felt a deep sinking feeling as she watched him. So much of his mystery was lost now and he seemed to have lost far to much to keep himself going. This realisation was terrifying for the old woman, she felt guilty for not leaving him to live out his life and yet she had seen the hope in his eyes when they had met. How could things have all gone so wrong in such a short period of time. The theatre was once again thrown into the magic of the Phantom, only this time he seemed not to be in control of it anymore. Her panic didn’t last long, however, the great cat had become impatient. She had grabbed hold of Madame Giry’s sleeve and was pulling her after the horse.
The water moved them along quickly. Madame Giry had lost sighed of Meg and the Phantom in the darkness of the underground river and had almost last herself to the moving water but Tangae held tight to her sleeve and after a while she held tight to the tigers wet fir. Soon they came to the stairs. The water had risen high over the first few steps and the horse was no where to be seen. Madame Giry was beginning to feel the fatigue as she started to climb up the steps. The wetness was sinking in to her skin. She was chilled right through but had to carry on upward. Away from the rising water and into the silence. She vowed to herself that she would not rest until she saw that the Phantom was safe.
Above, Cesar walked on. His pace had quickened once his hooves were free of the rushing water. The climb up the steps had become harder on Meg. The weight of the man in the saddle leaned heavily on her and she felt herself slipping back further on the horse but she held tight and persevered, not allowing herself to be defeated that easily. Finally he stopped in mid climb and looked at a bare patch of the brick wall.
“Why have you stopped?” Meg asked as she tugged at the reigns and brought herself back up into a comfortable position on his back.
“The door is there,” Erik said almost in a whisper, “twenty seven brick up on the right side of the step. This step on which Cesar stands, you’ll find a loose brick, push it and the door will appear,” he added heavily as he struggled still to breath.
“Shall I wait for the others, Monsieur?” she asked still holding tightly to his waist and listening to him struggle to breath.
“They are coming,” He said, “find the brick and they will be with us to carry on.” he said and forced himself to sit as straight as he could, “I’ll be fine,” he said but it was taking all of the strength that he had left to keep himself there.
Meg hoped down from behind him and crouched down on the cold steps of the column. She counted the bricks and soon found the one that he had mentioned. Behind her she could hear footsteps in the passage and held her breath. Her mother appeared with the cat below and she pressed the brick. A grinding sound followed and the wall began to move. Meg hurried back to the horse and pulled herself back up behind the Phantom, taking hold of him again as his strength had begun to fail him. She held him up and watched as the cat bounded into the passage before them.
“Will the door close behind us?” she asked Erik.
“No,” he said softly, “the brick has to be pushed back into place.
“Mother, you’ll have to do it,” Meg said as Cesar began to move into the passage, “you can see the protruding brick just push it back when we are all safely in the passage.
Madame Giry followed silently and did as she was told. The grinding noise returned and the door closed behind them. Suddenly they were plunged into a blacker darkness then before. Their eyes didn’t adjust to the darkness, there was nothing to lead them on.
“Take hold of Tangae,” Erik said as he struggled to look at Madame Giry, “she’ll lead you through the darkness. Cesar will take hold of her tail and we’ll be lead by her to where we need to go.”
The blackness before them and all around them was total. One could not see anything before them. It felt like they weren’t travelling at all but merely floating in the darkness. But they were moving along the passage. Slowly but surely they went on. The passage seemed to climb up, though there were no stairs it still rose. They were all silent as they carried on. The only sound in the darkness was the forced breathing of the Phantom.
Finally the ground levelled out and a light appeared at the end of the tunnel. Some noise had also returned like the sweet, musical sound of bird.
“It is not yet morning is it?” Meg asked as she saw the light and heard the birds.
“No,” Erik said, “its just another world.”
Meg fell silent again as they walked toward the light a sudden fear came over her and yet it was an excited fear. Were they really coming upon a place that so many had searched for and no one had ever found. It was a wonder to think that the Phantom could create and entire would below the ground and yet she was afraid to see what he kept there. Would it be a world of torture and hatred or was it a peaceful place. The light and the sounds seemed promising enough but looks can sometimes be deceiving. It became bright and brighter every moment and the cat and the horse moved quicker and quicker. Madame Giry had begun to run with the animals as the went on.
Erik was growing heavier again. His head drooped down and his body sagged as Meg held tightly onto him. He could feel himself fading away again. His clothing had become so heavy, he wanted to shed every bit of it and just lay in the warm light of his own place. Sleep was calling to him a restful happy sleep. He had felt that he wanted only to let the water swallow him up only hours before but now the kindness he had been feeling from these two women and the love of his pet made him want to carry on. A welcome fatigue had come over him, one that would almost be restful away from the worry and yet it seemed so far away. There before him was the light and the sounds of his safety and a trust had developed between him and the woman who held him to the horse. They were coming nearer to the light now soon he would be safe. He saw before him the green of his underground world and then his mind faded back to darkness as he passed out in Meg’s arms

Chapter 9:The Living Drama.

Movements were quick and random as Meg was hastily ushered out of the Phantom’s underground world. He took her back to the world above through, yet another, unexplored passage. He had fixed the rose blanket back around her shoulders tightly and persuaded her to follow him deeper into his home. From the halls of the incredibly spacious home she was led away and soon the richness of the home faded to the dusty darkness of the hidden tunnels of the theatre. All of the paths that he led her down were well travelled but poorly lit, he carried with him an oil lamp and moved quickly ahead of her. Her feet echoed off the hard floor and solid stones walls. The passages always seemed to twist an turn in all kinds of different directions, and although they came to very few stair cases, they did travel upward. Meg was feeling dizzy and lost within the bowels of the theatre, not really knowing in which direction they were travelling or where they would end up. Any other person would have begun to feel the fatigue in their legs as they climbed up through the darkness but not this young woman. Her ballet training made this feel like nothing at all and she kept up with the Phantom as he went. He seemed do mysterious as he went on through the darkness. Strong, well dressed and almost handsome. It was an incredibly strange feeling to have about a man who brought so much fear to so many people but Meg felt captivated by his presence.
Erik never turned to look at her as he walked on. He could hear her behind him but she remained silent as well. He knew that she would keep up and didn’t worry about her falling behind. The fear that ran through normal people about dark places would not allow her to fall to far from the light of the lamp. Up they climbed, through unseen levels of the theatre until they arrived and emerged into Box Five. The theatre around them was dark and silent. The stage was visible and empty. The sets were gone and the lights had all been turned out. Even the light from the lamp didn’t fill the space but only cast a faint glow over the edge of the box. It was here that they finally stopped and even though Meg had followed his every move, she was lost at how they came to stand in Box Five. Had she come back to this space she would have never been able to find the entrance or exit that the Phantom used to gain access to the box. Not in the light or the darkness.
In the lush, red velvet, seat of the box a small white envelope lay. There were no markings on it but it was clear that it has been filled with something. It lay thick and bright against the red of the seat. Erik moved quickly around the box, remaining out of the sigh of the theatre below, and reach out and took it. His movements seemed familiar only to him and though the room was completely empty his habits prevailed no one would ever see him come and go, not even the darkness itself As quickly as he had moved he stuffed the envelope into an inner pocket of his clothing. He then turned his attention back to Meg, “you mustn’t come looking for me until the opera is delivered. I don’t have time to deal with you or your mother until I am finished. Do you understand?” he asked looking strong and frightening again. Meg hadn’t noticed him do it but the white mask was back on his face and his eyes were harsh, burning her from within as he looked at her.
“I do,” Meg said as she stepped way from him.
“You need not be afraid of me,” he said as his gaze softened, but only slightly, “but you must obey,” he added and disappeared again.
Meg gasped for breath as she fell into the chair of the box. Her heart pounded and she felt as though the air had been cut off to her. Fear had taken hold of her entire body as the darkness around her became absolute. She knew not to be afraid of him, he was only a man after all and yet it was so hard not to be. His countenance had changed so drastically and almost dangerously from the previous night that she began to doubt that any of it had happened at all. She was also very confused at the amount of time that she had been with him. Had it been only a night or has it been much longer? She just didn’t know. Another fear and the memories of another time filled her mind. Had all of this happened before, to Christine. Was something wrong happening all around her? Was the man really as magic as people believe him to be? She was beginning to believe it herself. It was the most frightening thing of all, that a man like that could take hold of the one thing that is yours and yours alone, yourself, your freedom of choice and mix it with whatever fantastic images or fears he could muster. Meg was dizzy and unsure of everything at that moment. Quickly she stood and fled the box she had been left in. Up she climbed in the theatre, running as fast as she could. The theatre suddenly felt like it was staring at her, judging her. Her heart beet faster, she could feel it in her chest. Her limbs felt heavy, like something was pulling her back. The blanket that had been wrapped around her even felt cold and frightening but she couldn’t let go of it. She pushed herself onward, as fast as she could run, always up toward the top. Finally she reached the roof and flung herself out onto it. Darkness had once again covered the land above. She sank to her knees, covered her face with her hands and sobbed, “why must the darkness plaque me,” she cried.
The cold night air rushed in around her. She shivered more violently now, feeling the chill right down to her soul. The brilliant stars stared at her from higher above then she could reach, like hundreds of thousands of eyes judging her every move. The moon was bright, and big, and menacing in its audience of stars.
The rain clouds had moved on and the roof of the theatre was dry from a brilliant day of sun and warm weather. Meg had missed it while she slept in the house of the Phantom of the Opera. Less time than she had been imagining had passed but her mind was playing trick on her.
She sat on the roof, the blanket wrapped around her shoulders and sobbed until she had reached the point where no more tears could drench her face. She sat silently, then, and found her composure. Everything that had happened, must have happened, she still had the blanket to prove it. However frightening it had been, she realised that it was now over. The stars in the sky and the moon in its orbit began to soften with every moment Meg spent staring up at them. Everything began to feel, somewhat, dreamlike. She stood slowly, feeling the stiffness and the aches of her body and turned back toward the door. Stepping through the door she returned to her world, the world of the theatre and the safe place that she had always known.
Sleep didn’t come to Meg that night. Instead she found that she only wanted to dance. The ballerina’s practice hall had lost its dancers hours ago and Meg was pleased to see it empty. This room was normally loud and colourful, dizzying even, but now it was quiet and flooded with the silver light of the moon, through the large windows. Her emotions lead her in her dancing that night. A silent music, only Meg had ever heard, lead her on from the safety of her own imagination. It was a dark music, a morose sounding music and she danced on until her feet ached and her toes bleed inside her dancing shoes. She didn’t feel the pain as much as she began to feel herself fading away into sleep. She stopped and silently wondered off to bed.
Mornings had come and gone, dances were danced and the young ballerina’s kept up to their usual flirtations routines. Mornings turned to afternoons and afternoons to nights and everything happened like clock work. As normal as anything and as routine as ever anything had been. Andre and Firmin had even returned to their routines and had nearly forgotten the strange events that had once taken hold of their entire beings. The time moved slowly onward within the theatre.
Madame Giry had not asked any questions after her daughter had returned and simply went on with her duties of mothering and teaching the dancers of the company. Meg hadn’t tried to speak with her mother about anything that had passed between her and the Phantom, because the truth of the whole situation was, she wasn’t sure of what had happened any more. She knew that something had happened but couldn’t say what was real or what her mind had made up in its state of fear. Her mind had begun to play tricks on her during the day and her dreams at night seemed so real, as if she were really living then, that even when she thought she was awake she wasn’t completely sure that she was.
In truth, Meg was afraid of what she had been feeling and simply spent her days in the practice hall, oblivious to anything that happened around her. She had once taken on a senior roll in the troop, helping her mother along with the younger girls and teaching in her mother absence. Only now she danced alone and in silence. Never really aware of when the younger ballerina’s had stopped to stare at the enchanting dance that only Meg seemed to know.
It was true that something had been affecting Meg, but didn’t affect anyone else and it terrified her. She watched as everyone continued on in their routines as the days passed, and yet she wasn’t herself. She felt like she was alone in an ocean of emotions that no one could understand, and though she was afraid to tell anyone about anything, her body spoke volumes about her condition. Her movements were light, dreamy and precise, almost as if she was always in the dance. When she walked through the halls, or if she was actually in practice, her body moved as if it were always carried by some music. Her eyes, on the other hand, were sad and blank. The colour had faded from them to almost a grey and her skin had begun to match. Pail as marble and cold to the touch she was always chilled through to her core. When she wasn’t dancing she remained wrapped in a rose blanket that no one recognised.
The young ballerina’s didn’t take offence to Meg’s mood or even to being ignored by her, in fact they welcomed the lack of supervision. They continued with their frolicking and flirting and didn’t pay much attention to the condition that Meg seemed to fall further and further into.
Her mother on the other hand had noticed from the moment she layed eyes on Meg when she returned. She was concerned for her well being and yet something within her told her not to pry. It certainly seemed like something out of her control and so she could only sit back and watch as her daughter fell more and more into her lament.
One evening, as the theatre fell quiet and the ballerinas were given leave to roam the city, Meg found herself once again drawn to the practice hall. The immense room was a lovely kind of quiet and a brilliant full moon lit the space, casting wide beams of soft silver light across the wooden floor. The farther into the room she moved the louder and the stronger the urge and the silent music of her mind pulled her to dance. She dropped the blanket on a window sil and placed her practice slippers on her feet. In the moonlight and quiet she found peace and happiness as she danced. She was graceful in her actions and emotion poured from her movements. She lost herself in the space and the moon light, as if she had been taken into a trance, one she would never dream of fighting.
Suddenly a shadow passed through the moon beams in the room and she lost her footing. She fell hard to one side landing on the palms of her hands and twisting one of her feet uncomfortably to break her fall.
“Meg, are you hurt?” she heard a voice in the darkness asked and felt an arm around her.
“I don’t think so,” she said softly and leaned on the Phantom to gain her balance again, “I should be fine,” she added as she let go of his arm and put more pressure on the foot she had twisted.
“I apologise if I startled you,” he said as he watched her limp a little.
“I’m sure anything would have startled me,” she said with a small giggled, “I’ve been such a fright to everyone myself I believe.”
The Phantom remained silent as he watched her. She walked for a moment around the practice hall, before she decided to sit and stop for the evening.
“What brings you out?” she asked as she looked at him in the moonlight, standing tall and strong but gentle, “have you finished your work so soon?”
“I have,” he said as he picked up the blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders.
“That is wonderful news,” she said a bit dreamily.
“Are my managers still in the building?” he asked.
“They haven’t been leaving, so I assume that they are still in their office,” she said as she pulled off her practice shoes and unwrapped the tape that held her toes. They were blood soaked as she removed them but she didn’t seem bothered by this.
“You’ve been working yourself to hard little one,” Erik said as he shuddered at the sight of the blood that came off her dainty little feet.
“There can not be perfection without a little pain,” she said and wrapped clean bands of linen around her feet before replacing her shoes, “shall I take you up to see Monsieur Firmin and Monsieur Andre?” she asked as she held the blanket tightly around her and carried her ballet slippered in her other hand.
“Thank you, but I prefer to see them alone,” Erik said with a sort of bow towards her, “I wish you a good evening and a peaceful rest.”
“And I you,” she smiled timidly and turned. She limped as she walked across the practice hall and disappeared through a door that led to the ballet dormitories.

Chapter 11: The Story Tellers Magic.

Morning came on quickly. It was a bright sunny morning. The sun poured in through the windows of the theatre, breathing life into it. And with the dawn came the announcement, of excitement, from the managers. Word spread quickly from Monsieur Reyer and Madame Giry down the ranks of the musicians and ballerinas until everyone in the building knew that something was about to happen. No clear details had been given but something had come to them. Speculations began to fly about what the news could be but no one could say for sure.
“What is it about,” one ballerina asked Madame Giry as they gathered in the practice hall.
“That is for later child now practice,” Madame Giry answered and watched as Meg dreamily walked into the practice hall, “have you heard the new?” she asked her daughter.
“What news?” Meg asked as she changed into her ballet slippers and began to stretch.
“About La Dance du Diable,” Madame Giry whispered excitedly into her daughters ears, “but be hushed darling, the other do not know of the title of the work yet. But I have been told the Phantom has plans for a ballerina to be lead in his new work.”
“If that is what he has chosen then that is for him to decide,” Meg said calmly as she bent low to the ground in a stretch.
Madame Giry grew quiet at her daughters lack of interest in the production and carried on with the routine rehearsal.
Andre and Firmin walked quickly into the ballet practice hall and crossed, followed by a group of unknown gentlemen, to Madame Giry. The interruption, of the managers and the strange men, was complete and stopped the ballet practice. With the end of the practice a new noise erupted in the practice hall, that of chattering young ballerinas.
“Ladies,” Andre called trying to hush the group of gossiping women.
An uneasy silence fell over the room. The ballerina’s gathered in groups, clearly divided from the others in the room. Meg walked slowly to her mothers side and stood quietly as Andre and Firmin waited to start their speech.
“As many of you may know,” Firmin started forcing the excitement in his voice, “we have been delivered a new work for this institution to perform.”
“La Dance Du Diable!” Andre announced far more enthusiastically than Firmin.
“It is a work of both operatic singing and grand ballet,” Firmin continued, “it is going to take a great deal of work from all of you and many more dancers, musicians and especially singers are needed. It is going to cost the Opera Populair enormous amounts of money and therefore we cannot risk it not being a spectacular event.”
“But it is to be one of the biggest works we have every dared to perform here,” Andre said with a grand movement of his arms, “it is by a new and innovative composer, who is doing new and wonderful things to the art. This could possibly be the beginning of something amazing. A completely new form of musical drama.”
A large “oo” rose from the group of ballerinas. Andre was winning the batter of encouragement and excitement over Firmin. The energy in the room seemed to rise and fall as the news was passed between the two managers. The excitement continued to grow and spread. It had happened slowly as they went on in their speech but all eyes had grown wide and the ballerinas now gathered closer and closer to the managers as they spoke.
“But what is this musical drama about Monsieur?” one of the older ballerinas asked as Andre stopped to catch his breath.
“Oh my dear it’s a simply enchanting story,” Andre said, Firmin rolled his eyes, “gather round, gather round and I will tell you this tale of magic and tragedy,” he said as he emphasised his words to capture as much of their attention as he could.
The ballerinas sat, poised on the ground, and waited for the story to begin.
“La Angelle, the leading soprano, is a plain, undesirable, young peasant woman. She had fallen in love with Adair, the noble tenor. Adair is a handsome young man in search of love and adventure. He passes Angelle in the market one morning and doesn’t even spare a glance for her. Angelle is crushed and left to weep in the busy marketplace. In her sorrow, she vows to find a way to make him see her through the crowd, but she had the beauty of the noble women, played by our wonderful ballet troop, that stand between her and Adair. The marketplace is filled with a sorrowful song that Angelle sings to her lost love as the ballerinas and chorus sing and dance in a joyful teasing way,” Andre said, over exaggerating the sorrows and the happiness as the ballerinas reacted to his every word.
Gasps of wonder filled the practice hall. The ballerinas had become very interest by now. They all hung off of his words, giggling to each other, as images of the spectacle filled their heads.
“Filled with sorrow,” Andre continued, “Angelle fled into the forest by the light of the moon where she comes across a clearing. The forest floor glows red hot and there in the middle of the clearing is a beautiful woman, who dances on bare feet to a music that she seems only to hear. The woman is La Diable, played by one of you,” Andre said as hope filled all of there eyes, “with only dance, La Diable asks Angelle what her heart desires and in a wonderful Aria, to which La Diable dances to, Angelle trades her soul to be beautiful,” Andre said as he mimed handing something to a ballerina that sat at his feet.
The ballerinas chattered with delight.
“The next day while in the market, Adair rides through again. Angelle’s newfound beauty catches his eye and they sing a wonderful duet of a wonderful day spent together and their hearts being lost to each other,” Andre said as he stooped down and place one hand on a ballerina’s shoulder and the other on his heart.
“Awe,” The ballerinas sighed.
“Sadly,” he said harshly, “La Diable has been watching all along with a band of her minions from the underworld, also played by our ballerinas and led by six female singers, three sopranos and three altos. They follow, unseen as Angelle and Adair fall more and more in love with each other and La Diable grows jealous of the beautiful Angelle, for she wants Adair for herself.”
“No,” a ballerina gasped.
“It can’t be so,” another cried.
“Oh yes, but it is!” Andre hissed, “La Diable casts a spell on Adair and pulls him from Angelle’s arms. She cries out in a fearful Aria as La Diable dances Adair right into hell. Angelle follows, her heart broken, right into the fire of the clearing in the woods. She is met by the shouts and the cries of the underworld, in one of the biggest chorus passages we have ever seen and is made dizzy by the dances of La Diable’s followers. And this is the end of the first Act.” Andre smiled.
The ballerinas stared at him as he remained silent, wiping his brow with a handkerchief.
“Oh Monsieur go on!” someone cried.
“Ah but it is time for a short intermission child,” Andre laughed, “do you not want to get up and stretch?”
“No, no,” came shouts from the ballerinas.
“Very well,” Andre smiled and shoved his handkerchief into his pocked, “our seen begins again with a waltz between La Diable and Adair, accompanied by a melodious song from the chorus but the misleading sneers and cackles of La Diable’s followers. Adair realises that something is wrong but his mind is incredibly clouded. He sings an aria of lost passion, lost hope and a pair of lost eyes that he can still see deep within him. La Diable is furious that she is losing her grip on the handsome young man. Her dance becomes more vigorous and more sexual,” Andre said and grabbed a ballerina by the wrist pulling her up close to him, “she then takes hold of Adair and tries to convince him, with her dance, that he is in love with her. As the dance of six other ballerinas continue to build the spell that grows around him led on by the chanting of the six female singers. But he resist!” Andre yelled pushing the ballerina away from him, “he turns on La Diable, she is not the one he loves, he cries out in song. A men’s chorus, from off stage, sing him on and then is joined by the women’s voices, also off stage, and he remembers Angelle and her beauty.”
“How romantic,” the ballerina beside him said as she sat down again.
“Oh yes,” Firmin added with a hint of sarcasm.
“Ah but alas,” Andre started again, his face twisted into a sorrowful look, “Angelle had lost her beauty when she entered into hell and the followers of La Diable attached her. And yet she is determined to save Adair, or to at least see him again and plead with to him see her for the woman she is. She continues on in her journey, the strength she needs coming to her in the form of a beautiful chorus of angel songs and the dance of seven ballerinas dressed in white. Angelle joins the chorus in a great aria as the angels lead her on until she comes to where La Diable is keeping Adair.”
“Oh it is to end happy,” one ballerina cried.
“Oh but it doesn’t,” Andre said as he pointed to the ballerina, “there, on the floor, Adair lies. La Diable is outraged, she is out of breath and leans against a terrible fiery thrown. Her costume has even changed and looks angrier and more frightening. Angelle cries out to Adair in fear. She throws herself on him and weeps. Her tears mix with the angels song as the seven angels and La Diable’s six daemons dance around them. The angels win the battle and life is breathed back into Adair. As he rises Angelle see his face,” Andre paused.
The ballerinas held onto each other in fear and excitement. Each and every one of them held their breath.
“Don’t stop Monsieur,” they all cried.
“But it may be to much for you,” Andre said with a sigh.
“No, no, go on!” the called out.
“He’s hideous!” Andre hissed as he lunged at the Ballerinas.
They cried out in horror and fell back away from him.
“His face is not the face of a handsome man anymore, but terribly ugly and deformed,” Andre said, then added in a gentler tone, “Angelle weeps, but takes his face in her hands and caresses it. Adair joins in her song of sorrow and love. He takes her, the woman that looks as poorly as he, into his arms and vows to love her for ever. The angels return in a sorrowful song and pulls them both from hell, leaving La Diable alone. She stands in the middle of the stage her hands outstretched in the direction that Adair and Angelle left. She is tortured and sorrowful herself and here she dances her last, the devil’s lament. She falls to the floor at the end of her dance and is engulfed in the flames of hell.”
A great silence fell over the ballerinas. Some wept, others clung to the younger ones. It was a tragic story and yet brilliant in its design.
“Who could write such a story of sadness and loss,” a ballerina asked through her tears as she held onto a smaller girl.
“I don’t know if you really could understand if I told you,” Andre sighed as a sudden sorrow hit him. The story he had just told was so filled with loss and yet seemed familiar in a way.
“Andre they have a right to know,” Firmin hissed feeling impatient, “the whole reason we came here was to tell them this and you’ve turned it into story time. For the love of God, we have so much work to do and here you are wasting time.”
“Fine,” Andre said looking angrily at Firmin, “you want me to tell them who the tragic composer of this monumental work is? Fine I will and then I leave it to you to explain because I now see things clearer through the eyes of a genius. This story is not only fiction but oh so real in its being. It could happen to any of us!”
“Oh come now Andre, you’re over reacting,” Firmin laughed, “it could not!”
“The star crossed lovers of Romeo and Juliet,” Andre said turning back to the ballerinas, “the sad truth of Beauty and the Beast. Even our own history here at the Opera Populair shows signs of the tragedies that have happened. And there is always the misunderstood villain as we would call it,” Andre sighed for a minute and then looked to the sky, “ladies, the composer of this wonderful work of sorrow and rejection is...” he trailed of for a second, “The Phantom himself.”
A gasp rose from the ballerinas as Meg fled from the practice hall.

Chapter 13: Notes.

The next morning, Andre and Firmin arrived at the opera house to find people lined up down the street. The doors of the theatre were crowded by the growing mob of people and it seemed continue to grow. The windows that looked out from the ballet hall were filled with the awed faced of the ballerinas who watched the crowd down in the square. Uniformed guards had placed themselves at the doors and kept them locked as if a performance was to be starting. It had been a long time since the Opera Populair had seen this kind of publicity before. Andre and Firmin were greatly pleased to see it.
Madame Giry paced behind the large main doors of the theatre, behind them the crowd gathered in the street. In her hands she held a series of notes, all with different names one them. Meg sat sleepily on the stairs behind her mother. She had come into her room early in the morning, clutching the notes close to her heart and told her that she must be present to greet the managers. Monsieur Reyer had also joined them as well as Monsieur Faireaux, the head fly man of three years, Monsieur and Madame Vertlin the head costume designers, and Monsieur Gravert the stage manager and set designer, who had pulled his son Jaque along because Jaque was the head stable boy below Monsieur Laflame, who had been drinking the previous night and was in no condition to meet the managers this morning. Madame Giry had rolled her eyes at the news of Monsieur Laflame but wasn’t surprised by his actions. She simply continued to pace as the banging on the doors grew louder and louder. Behind her, the gathering of professionals was getting impatient. Madame Vertlin was the worst of them all muttering things to her husband about having work to do and what not. Madame Giry simply ignored her as she did most of the time. Suddenly the doors opened a crack and the noise of the crowd filtered in as the managers pushed and shoved through the people and the guards fought to keep anyone that wasn’t Andre and Firmin out. Finally the doors closed behind them and there was a quiet stillness that came over the foyer.
“Good morning everyone,” Firmin said cheerfully, “to what to we owe the pleasure?”
“Very good question, Monsieur, we were all just told to be in the foyer before you arrived,” Monsieur George Gravert said as he glared at Madame Giry, “the woman said it was important but once we got here she refused to tell us anything until you got here.”
“Yes,” Jeannine Vertlin said in a huff, “I am sorry Madame, but we all have a lot of work to do, its not like ballet is the only thing that keeps this theatre running.”
Madame Giry shot the other woman a glare, it was true Madame Giry was the senior mistress of the theatre and therefore was the right hand to the managers. She had lived in the theatre for most of her life, first as a student and then as a teacher, and now she was the woman who called most of the shots, even more than the managers. Madame Vertlin stepped back and hid behind her husband as the managers also noticed Madame Giry’s anger. The entire mood in the foyer had changed with a glance.
“Monsieurs and Madame,” Madame Giry started and gave a harsh look to Jeannine, “I regret to be the bringer of such things but I have for each of you a note, from the Phantom.”
A gasp from everyone rose in the foyer.
“And thus it starts,” Andre sighed.
“He’s doing it just to annoy us now,” Firmin said as he took off his jacked, “and so, why have you waited to give everyone theirs?” he asked as he looked at Madame Giry.
“Because I too have a note,” she said, “and it says...”
My Dear Madame,
As the excitement for my drama grows, I regret to inform you that I must stay away from what is to happen. It is my belief that the managers wish to parade me around like a puppet on display and I do not look kindly on such things, however I will be and always am present.
Here, in a pile, I have notes for all of the area’s of the performance. Take them and gather the highest ranked in the theatre and give them to them, but not before Andre and Firmin have read and understood what is in theirs. It is very important that everyone understand my orders for them.
I do not take kindly to being treated as a plaything, and so it is I who will be playing the puppeteer.
O.G
“Can you believe the nerve of some people,” Jeannine said again as Madame Giry finished.
“It would be wise Madame,” Andre started as he walked over to the seamstress and stared angrily into her eyes, “that you hold your tongue. You are new to the events of the Phantom of the Opera and I suppose that it was lucky for you, as you now have a job, but your mouth could get you in trouble if you don’t shut up!” he said.
“Are you going to let him talk to me like that Joseph?” she asked her husband, her face as read as her hair.
“Yes,” Joseph said as he turned on his wife, “I’d like to keep my life, thank you, and my job for that matter. You have heard the stories and know of the superstition. You’ll obey the Phantom because it is not in my power to protect you around him. And furthermore, as I am your husband and the higher ranking worker here in the theatre you’ll have to do as I say and shut your mouth or I’ll be forced to keep you out of meetings like this one.”
Jeannine was red with anger but didn’t say another word. She walked back to the stairs and sat down close to Meg, grumbling to herself.
“Now, Madame Giry, what do you have for us?” Firmin asked as he and Andre stood before the ballet mistress.
“One for each of you,” she said handing over the top two letters in the pile.
“Well, I suppose I’ll go first,” Firmin said as he opened the enveloped, pulled the paper out and unfolded it. He read out loud what was written.
Dear Firmin,
It displeases me to see you so discontented with the drama, I assure you it will be a wonderful production, the jewel of the theatre no doubt but I would prefer that you sees all the rumours that you continue to spread about me. Yes I know you have been doing it. Should you continue with you present behaviour, I will only deal with Andre and he’ll only deal with me because you are disposable.
O.G “Well I suppose I deserved that,” Firmin said as he folded the letter and placed it back in the envelope, “he can rest assured I’m completely dedicated to the drama now. You here that Monsieur,” He shouted superstitiously into foyer, “I’m your obedient servant.”
“I’m sure he’ll be please with that,” Madame Giry said sarcastically and then turned back to Andre, “clearly you are in better standings with the Ghost.”
“I do hope so Madame,” he said and opened his note. It was longer than Firmin’s with much more writing and clearly many instruction. He read.
Dear Andre,
First I would like to thank you for your enthusiasm through the whole process. It was wonderful to hear your rendition of my story in the Ballet Hall. Here are a few instructions, to get the process of auditioning and casting in order.
To start I would like the posters in the front of the theatre removed and replaced. On them please fill in the following. By Thursday of this week we will open to doors to anyone interested in joining the dance troop. We will open the ballet hall to all interested participants starting at 9am. The auditions are to start at 12pm sharp. Auditions will be held in the main opera theatre, on the stage and will be viewed by Madame Giry our ballet mistress, Monsieur Reyer our conductor and the Managers. I will be there but I will not be seen unless I decide that it is needed. Secondly by Saturday of this week we will be starting our casting for the chorus. All people wanting to participate in the auditions must be present in the opera foyer for noon. The audition will happen in one large group with Monsieur Reyer conducting our small ensemble. The singers must be ready to sing Mozart’s ‘Ave Verum Corpus’, I will be choosing the chorus. The chorus auditions will run in the same way Saturday, Sunday and Monday. Tuesday and Wednesday we will be casting the main sung rolls, starting with our Tenor and then followed shortly by our Soprano. Depending on how long we take, all singers wishing to audition for supporting characters must be present by Thursday at noon and must return until casting of vocal parts is finished on Friday. All choristers, and ballerinas for the angels and the daemons will be chosen as I watch the progress of our dancers and our singers. It will be at random during the time in which we are preparing the cast. You will know my decision before the cast moves to stage. Finally orchestral auditions will run on the second Saturday and Sunday of our audition period. Those will be viewed by Monsieur Reyer, and the Managers and once again I will be present but un seen. This will end our audition period. Casting will be finalised before the last Saturday of the month and rehearsals will begin.
I do not wish to see my name placed on the posters at all. It was for your information only that I would be present and ultimately choosing the cast but it is not to be public knowledge as I don’t want people snooping about in the opera house. If I am not pleased with the new posters they will come down tonight and you’ll have to re draft them tomorrow.
In closing, Andre, I do hope that everything is arranged and dealt with in the most serious nature. This is the most crucial part of our endeavour. I will be in touch.
O.G
P.S.: do not let Firmin deal with the patrons, he’ll only tell them negative things about me. I wish to keep a clean reputation, as it is the drama that is the most important part, not myself and my history. Also have Madame Giry double check your books, I’ve noticed some mistakes in your calculations already.
“He has so very little faith,” Firmin said.
“Don’t be ridiculous Firmin,” Andre said and shot his partner an annoyed glare, “he’s ambitious and clearly much more in tune with everything that goes on here than we once thought. I am actually pleased to know that he knows so much.”
“He’s certainly got an eye on things,” Firmin chuckled.
“He’s a busy body,” Jeannine said and then fell back into her silence.
“And insane,” Reyer said with a panicked look on his face, “today is already Tuesday, which mean’s we have one day to prepare for the biggest audition period that we have seen.”
“He must have full instruction in your notes,” Madame Giry said as she handed out the rest of them to the men and women gathered on the foyer.
Monsieur Reyer quickly opened his and pulled out a short note with one line of text,
Monsieur Reyer,
Please have the violin quartet ready to play ‘ave verum corpus’ for the chorus auditions.
O.G
“Well it seems like he wants to keep us all guessing,” Monsieur Reyer said even more panicked than before.
“You’re sure to get more notes, Monsieur,” Andre smiled trying to calm the conductor down, “when you need to know something you’ll know it.”
“We are all puppets in his game,” Reyer said, “and yet this game could save us all. Please excuse me everyone I have rehearsal to run before auditions start,” he said and left the foyer
Monsieur and Madame Vertlin, opened their note only to find four pages of roughly drawn costumes and colour schemes. The dress makers wouldn’t be able to start their work until the cast was chosen and they would be able to take the measurements of the people wearing the costumes. Monsieur Gravert’s note was much the same with detailed set designs and measurements but also included paint colours and texturing ideas to make the fire look real. Monsieur Faireaux was given a list of hanging sets and ways to set lights and balances in the flies. It also included a warning that the Phantom would check the flies to make sure all was well and in order. Faireaux prayed he wouldn’t be in the flies at the same time as the Phantom and vowed to do only his best work. Jaque Gravert was given the note for the stable master and was sent off to do is chores. There weren’t to be many animals in the production but a few were needed.
“Have you noticed anything about ‘La Diable’?” Madame Vertlin asked her husband as she flipped through the pages of drawings.
“I see nothing at all,” he answered and looked to the managers, “you’re notes said nothing about the characters nor did your Madame Giry. Are we to be left in the dark as to the identity and the look of the main character?”
“That’s a very good question,” Andre said as he and Firmin flipped their letters around.
Meg sat silently on the steps and stared at the paper in her hands. She hadn’t noticed that the attention had all fallen on her. Her mother finally stepped forward in the silent group and placed her hand on Meg’s shoulder.
“Is everything alright my darling?” her mother asked.
“Yes,” Meg said as she stood and realised that everyone was staring at her.
“Well what does it say, Mademoiselle?” Andre asked.
“Its say,” Meg began and then stopped. She turned the note around and held it up to the group to read. She couldn’t bring herself to say the words that were written.
Ma Belle Meg,
Congratulations, you have been chosen to play ‘La Diable’, I know you will make me proud. It is your dance and your grace that have inspired. I could think of no one more deserving than you to lead my drama. I know it will be difficult for you but you must believe that I can see no one else in this roll. I look forward to working with you and will be taking all responsibilities involving ‘La Diable’, until we meet again...O.G
“You, are to be La Diable?” Firmin gasped.
“Do not question the opera ghost, if he wants Meg then give her to him,” Andre said as he tried to calm his partner.
“Have you been meeting with the Phantom?” Madame Giry asked fear in her eyes.
“He has been coming to me in the ballet hall,” Meg said as she finally stood but the expression on her face was one of anger, “but don’t worry about me. I trust him and his decisions. It is all of you who have so little faith in him. I suggest you all pay very close attention to his instructions and do exactly as he says. As for me, I have to practice, good day.” she said and walked away from the group.
Madame Giry sat down on the steps and cradled her face in her hands. She wept with the memories of the things that had once happened to a beautiful young woman. Could it really be happening again, and this time to her own daughter? She felt a great sense of remorse, for it was she that had brought Meg to the Phantom in the first place, and yet Meg was not afraid. She had been acting strange but their was nothing to suggest that the Phantom had done anything to her. Madame Giry regained her composure and stood again, “well, I suppose I have to be the one to let down the ballerinas as to the casting of La Diable, so much for their renewed dedication to the craft,” she sighed.
“Oh Madame, perhaps you can keep their attention by telling them that they are going to have to fight for the other rolls. Don’t forget we are opening the auditions to men and women outside of the opera school,” Andre said as he placed a hand on her shoulder.
“You’re right, we have to keep some of our dancers in the show,” she smiled, “it is time for them to work even harder to gain the respect and bring honour to this schools name,” she said and walked off toward the ballet hall.
Andre and Firmin watched as the others left the foyer. The crowd outside had become loud and shouting could be heard through the doors. They were left alone in the wide open space. Suddenly a scrap of paper fell from high above them. It landed face up on the floor between them. On it there was a rough sort of writing, hurried and clearly not with the intent of having others see it. It said,
Monsieurs Andre and Firmin,
I am pleased with that meeting, even more so to see a renewed dedication to my ways. So long as every obeys me everything should work according to plan. Thank you again. And yes Firmin I did hear you. I’ll believe it when I see it.
O.G