Okay, so this is my first attempt at writing something like this, so have patience with me. Also, for your information, this story is based from the movie (2004), musical (by Andrew Webber) and book (by Gaston Leroux). By the way, if you get confused, don't worry! Everything will be explained in time. You shall see.

Chapter One

Gripping her grandfather's hands, Evelyn followed him into the unknown area. She listened intently to give off a clue to this mystery that her grandfather kept locked up inside himself. Crinkling her nose, she smelled a perfume of ancient musk.

"Poppy, where are we?" Evelyn whispered, not knowing if she should be silent as she tightened her hold. She felt like a frightened child, clinging to her parent. Muffled voices emerged and she tried to imagine people surrounding her as she walked, unaware, blind. Evelyn was not born without sight, but it seemed to become so as she grew. Just about a year ago she completely lost her use of her eyes. When you loose something so precious, you realize how valuable it was. Now in her darkness, she trusted her grandfather only to take her, safely around. The voices intensified as she stepped further, as did her uncertainties. "Poppy?" She called again.

"You'll see my child." By the sound of his voice, she could easily place the smile on his lips. The one that stretched from ear to ear and even to his eyes, glowing. All worries were shrugged off as his voice spoke so joyously. Thinking of what he said, she noticed the word he had used. 'You'll see.' No, she wouldn't. Never again would she see anything, but the black abyss that held her, that eerily nurtured her. She would give up almost anything to see once more. If only for a second, it would still give her some peace, but those dreams would stay as dreams, nothing more. Evelyn widened her eyes, trying to just catch a glimpse, see a flicker, something. Nothing entered through her eyes. No picture of what lay ahead, just her image of a blank black filled page. It was useless trying, she knew, but she still could attempt the impossible. Keep dreaming of the impossible. The creak of a door snapped Evelyn away from her self pity and flooded her back to the whispers and music, filling her ears.

"Maestro, I'm sorry to interrupt." Her grandfather spoke, continuing to lead her. Probably to the person he spoke of, she assumed. She fidgeted with the soft fabric, uncomfortable and unknowing. Her grandfather continued, "Everyone, this is my granddaughter, Evelyn. She'll be staying here as well and it would be grand to give her the same courtesy as you gave me when I arrived." Voices rose to say their welcomes, but no one approached. "I'll let you continue with rehearsal now." Evelyn scrunched her brows in confusion as she was placed in a comfy, velvet seat, her grandfather relaxed beside her.

"What is this, Poppy?" She questioned, trying not to speak too loud.

"Your early birthday present." He answered, his hands in hers, calming and protective.

"I do not know what it is still." She moved her head around as if to motion what was obvious.

"The Opera Populaire." Again with the smile, oozing from his voice. She could tell it was plastered on his face, sight or no sight. Joy dripped from his mouth as he spoke.

"The one Grams used to speak of?" She exclaimed, hushed.

"Yes, yes."

"Oh, I've always wanted to come here. How long are we to stay?" She hugged him tightly, afraid if she let go they would have to depart and return to their home of silence and mourning .

"Whenever you wish. I am the new manager."

"Oh." She gasped and let out a smile that could not be contained. "You are the best." She kissed his cheek, lovingly as if he was her father, as it always had been.

"Evelyn, I must attend to some business soon. Would you like to stay here or come with me? I do not know what you could do while I sort through papers…A bore really."

"I'll stay." She let go of him as he rose from his chair, exiting. She assumed he had already told the others about her condition and knew they would keep an eye on her, sensing the glares already descending upon her., afraid she would wander and get lost in this labyrinth. Even when she could see she had a way of misplacing herself in the most odd places, searching in her land of make believe. Soon she would explore the confinements of the Opera, with no one watching her.

Music seeped from the floor, a melody chiming from the lips of a women and soft pounces of ballet feet gave her the effect she needed in her head. Evelyn always put the pieces in her head to make her own picture, whether it was right or wrong, she liked doing it to give her the illusion of vision. It kept her sane and gave her the appearance that she wasn't completely blind. That she could see in her own way, Without eyes, but ears. Putting together the sounds, like a puzzle, and making the image. When she first lost sight of everything she became so dependent on others, especially her grandfather, which she loathed. As a girl, she was very independent and now, at the age of 19, she had to depend on everyone except herself. Nowadays she would catch herself second guessing her own decisions and doubting things she once was certain of. She loathed the person she was becoming.

She was glad her grandmother couldn't see her like this, in this state. Her grandmother always told her she loved how independent Evelyn was, but right after she'd say those words she'd add on, "But don't be too detached from others. It isn't healthy." Her grandmother was radiant even in her older age and creative as well. Evelyn would always find her doing something artistic inside the household. Painting, singing to her, telling her imaginative stories. Evelyn remember in the late days she would spy on her grandmother, painting a landscape or sometimes an unfamiliar man. When she caught her she would quickly put away the sketches of the figure and display the paintings of lakes and what not, her fair face tinted with rouge as if she had broken a rule, caught in the act. She was always curious as to why she hid the others. They were good, maybe even better than the others. Admiringly, Evelyn complimented her work everyday, telling her grandmother how she wished she could paint as well as her and she would reply, "My sweet Evelyn, you will be. You will be. Besides, I could never be as great as…" And then she would meander into another subject. Evelyn never pressed the subject. Now she wished she had. So many secrets her grandmother had and so did her grandfather. She didn't understand what was so precious to be kept secret from her. Especially in their old age when soon enough they wouldn't be able to say a secret again.

She recalled the day after her grandmother's funeral, all the paintings she had kept dear and riddled Evelyn's mind, were shoved away, hidden even after her body was gone. When her grandfather wasn't looking she had even managed to snatch one while he was packing, but she wanted them all. She felt a bond to them, a beckoning from within. Often at night she would rummage through the house, searching for the lost sketches. She never once found another scrap of paper so she kept the one painting she had managed to sneak, always close, sensing a calmness when she ran her fingers over the indentions that the heavy pencil and paints. The image was burned into her mind even now. The lines blended together to make a masculine jaw, a hard, pained face. How the face haunted her dreams at times when she was a child, but even then, she would wake up to look at the drawing hooked to every scribble. The visage developed in her thoughts, those pleading eyes, begging to be loved. That one thing made her and the painting linked in there own attempts at being adored.

Reality sharply fell back on her as the loud clicks of the Maestro dismissing everyone rattled through her ears. She wondered what time it was, how long she had strayed inside her own mind. She did this a lot as this was the only thing she had now, her own thoughts to keep her company in the night.

Poppy, as Evelyn called him, entered his office to find stacks of papers on his desk that he needed to shuffle through. Plopping into his seat, he began with the first thing he picked up, absently thinking about how bright Evelyn's face had looked when she discovered her early birthday present. He smiled at the image of her glowing features, glimpsing down at the letter in his hand. His grin melted away, the red wax skull staring up at him. He knew of the Phantom, the Opera Ghost, but he assumed he would be dead now. Surely, he contemplated, slowly opening the envelope.

To the new manager of the establishment,

I am writing this letter to inform you that if you wish to keep this Opera House from disaster than it be wise of you to obey my simple rules. One, I require you to keep box five open for my use only and second, a salary of 240,000 francs left on my box's banister.

Your obedient servant,

O.G.

His eyes scanned the letter once more, his hands shaking. He still was here after all the years. He knew he would not deny this man of anything he asked. He didn't want trouble, especially with his granddaughter here. Also he couldn't just leave, it would break Evelyn's young, fragile heart. After her loss of sight, she always seemed to be withdrawn, despising the thought of having to ask for assistance every where she went. Evelyn's life had been hard to begin with. He just couldn't do that to her. Not after what she has been through. He dug through his pockets, counting up his money and getting a few thousand more from a little safe he had resting near his desk. When he got the correct amount he rushed to box five, wanting no harm to come to anyone, and placed the money in an envelope on the banister as he wrote. He darted away, spotting Evelyn alone and unaware of danger that could be near.

Erik appeared, seemingly, out of nowhere to retrieve his salary. The envelope was sealed with a little note scribbled on the front. "I agree to your demands. Keep you promises." The Phantom smiled at the note. Of course he would as long as they obliged to his orders. Glimpsing down at the rehearsal underway, annoyed, he noticed a girl in the audience, glaring at him. Her hair red like fire spilled over her shoulders, little bows keeping it tamed to the side and there as he studied her, she went unfazed. His initial reaction was to slink back in the shadows, but he could sense that she was somewhere else, only absently watching him. Vacantly staring at him, somewhere deep inside her own mind. Imprisoned in his own mentality, he crept back into the gloom, once more peering down at the envelope, smiling. He always kept his promises.

Poppy dashed to his granddaughter, who was still sitting in her seat, seeming to be somewhere else. He glimpsed up at box five, finding nothing, not even the envelope. He had been there, already taken the money. He hoped that he hadn't noticed Evelyn, remembering the last time he was in this Opera House himself. He was already regretting buying it, but he couldn't go back on his word to Evelyn. He sighed, knowing there way no way out now. Foolishly, he had given into his granddaughter dreams, taking them into his hands. If he took her now, she would shatter. Nothing brought joy to the young girl now. She couldn't see the Opera House, but when she arrived, he could tell she felt it. She felt the happiness, the sadness, the mourning, the music…She was wrapped in this Opera House now, no doubt. Gliding to her, he lightly touched her shoulder in comfort. She jumped slightly, gripping the hand on her, brushing her fingers over his. It was a way she identified people, well at least him. Over the year, she grew to understand every curve, every wrinkle on his slender hands. "Poppy?" She alleged in her serene tone. Looking up at him, as if she could really see him. Her piercing emerald eyes appeared as if they could go straight through him, those beseeching eyes that contained so much sorrow.

"Yes, Evelyn." He squeezed her should, lovingly. "It's time to show you to your room. I had some people put your things in there so you don't have to fret." He moved into the isle so she could get out, her hands going over the chairs to find her way. He wanted to outstretch his hands to aid her, but he knew she would probably pull back, demanding she could do it herself.

Evelyn groped around for her path out of the row of seats, finally in the isle, her hands met with air. She placed a hand on the last chair, following the column of them to the door. Her hand glided over the cool metal of the seats as she made her way to the exit with her grandfather. "Poppy, I really adore it here. It's beautiful." She smiled to herself, thinking of her own imagery of the Opera House. The way it felt gave her the accurate picture of her new home. It already felt like home somehow to her. She had only been her for a few hours and it already nurtured her in its arms. Her soul, touched. The Opera House would do her good for her aching heart. Her aching heart, with so many mourning memories, despair and pain. So much pain dwelt in her body, physical and mental pain. Evelyn was snapped out of her thoughts as her grandfather spoke.

"Yes, it is very beautiful." He replied, not questioning how she knew what it looked like. He knew she had he own ways of seeing, just not with her eyes. She lets her soul feel around for her, lets her hands fondle items to give her sight. For only a year of blindness, she was adjusting to it well, or at least that's what he thought. Deviating, Evelyn grieved of her sightlessness. She couldn't actually examine the Opera House with her eyes. Using her hands, wrongfully putting things together sometimes, not sure if even now she was right or wrong. Doubting herself was something she did all the time now, making her retrace over items, confirming what she thought it came across as. Usually she would scold herself at her new program of doing things. Easily frustrated, she would just stop trying and keep herself in her dark, vast abyss of her mind. Picking up memories of her childhood, pushing back everything she didn't yearn to look at, but even sometimes they would poke out and soar through her. The wicked recollections taunting her to the point where she could go insane.

As she drifted somewhere else she hadn't even realized that Poppy was guiding her through the maze of hallways. "We're here." He said, pushing open a door. Evelyn sauntered in on her dancing feet and placed herself on the smooth, large bed that rested against the right wall. "My room is next door. If you need anything just call for me, I'll hear you. And if I'm not in there, I'll have someone to watch you."

Evelyn scoffed at the thought of someone taking care of her like a baby. She's a nineteen year old, forget that she was blind. She could take care of herself. Watch her, she would.

"I know you don't like these arrangements, but, Evelyn, you need to understand that you need someone to help you sometimes."

"I do not." She retorted, scrunching her eyebrows in distaste.

"No matter what you say, you will have someone watching you." He commanded, but not harshly. He knew how tender her heart was, but she could be so rebellious at times. Evelyn bit her lip, forcing back her refusals and stared into space, where she thought he was standing. The bed sunk as her grandfather's weight slunk down on the mattress beside her. He took her hand in his, but she jerked back in her last fight for her solitude. "You know I don't like to be stark with you, but sometimes you can be difficult. I know it's hard for you at this time. Just trust me for now. After a while, you'll understand you can't do everything alone." He breathed. Evelyn fought back her bitter words. It was no use when he made his mind, besides she could always get around to make it work her way. She could be quiet mischievous if she had to be. As the silence grew Poppy rose, exiting with a few last words. "Your watcher will be here soon. Please don't wander until they come." Sighing, he closed the door behind him with a click. Evelyn sat in her darkness, trying to resist temptation. She wanted to explore and if someone else was with her she just couldn't do what she wanted. Groping her way to the door, and opening it, she bumped into a sturdy figure.

"Oh, sorry there." A young girl's voice spoke.

"It's fine." Evelyn tried to visualize the girl in front of her. Something gave her the illusion that she was a ballerina, perhaps. Sometimes, she could tell by the way they spoke, but of course sometimes she was wrong.

"I'm here to give you a tour, Mademoiselle. My name's Alice." Her tone was gentle, somehow elegant.

Evelyn nodded in acknowledgement. "Are you a ballerina?"

"Oh, yes, I am. How did you guess?" She spoke, brightly.

"I have my ways." She smirked.

"I'm so excited that I get to show you around. I can tell you everything about this place." She was an energetic one. "You have beautiful eyes, Mademoiselle."

"Merci. By the way, you can just call me Evelyn." She smiled.

"Ok, M-Evelyn. Um, do you need to hold my hand or something?" She seemed embarrassed asking this question, but she wasn't the only one who was uncomfortable with the inquiry. It sounded as though she was a toddler again, walking in a city with her mother, over protectively, gripping her little hand.

"I'm fine." Evelyn replied. "If I start going off into the wrong direction, then you can turn me around."

"Alright." Alice beamed, starting to walk down the hall. "This is where the Prima Donna's dressing rooms are and where everyone who is important stays, like you and your grandfather."

"Oh." Sliding her hand, gently, over the wall to allow her to refrain herself from running into a wall. One by one, Alice went down the list of Prima Donna, describing each room in perfect detail, but as Evelyn's hand grazed over another door handle, Alice skipped to the next one. "What about this one?" She questioned, stopping, her fingers still resting on the door knob.

"That one is off limits." She explained with a sigh.

"Off limits? Why?" Evelyn started to turn the knob to open this mystery that already had her intrigued.

"No! What if he's in there?" The young girl's voice that so jubilant now cried out in terror.

"Who is he?" Evelyn raised an eyebrow her hand still attached to the door.

"The Opera Ghost." She whispered, afraid someone may here.

"There is no such thing." And with that said, she opened the door.

"No!" Alice yelped, blocking her of any entry of the room. Evelyn heard the door slam shut and huffed as her fun was quickly pushed aside. She would get in that room, not now, but later.