An Encounter With The Phantom
"I'll be off then," I said to the innkeeper, placing my hat on my head and turning to the door.
"Shall I be expecting you back soon Monsieur Leroux?" he inquired.
"Not too soon I hope, if I can get a ticket that is," with that I shut the door behind me and began my journey to the Paris Opera House. As it was my last day in Paris before returning home, I had decided to use the last of my time to see a production of Faust. Being a last minute decision I hadn't reserved a ticket, so I hoped there would still be a seat left. After a short walk the opera house came into view. Climbing up the steps, I entered the magnificent building and made my way over to the ticket seller.
"Excuse me sir, but I was wondering if there is any tickets left for this evening's performance," I asked, hoping not to be disappointed. The ticket seller was a small, pale looking man who, before I had startled him awake, had been half-dozing.
"What? Oh, no I'm afraid all seats have been sold."
My fears turning into reality, I turned to leave when the man called me back.
"Actually there is one seat left, Box 5 in fact, and although I've been instructed not to sell it," at this point the man looked around to make sure nobody was paying any attention to him, "I could be persuaded to let you have it if you are willing to pay double."
I started to decline, but was interrupted by the man.
"If you're worried about getting caught, there'd be no need for that. Nobody goes near there, except for old Madame Giry, but she shouldn't give you much trouble."
"What is wrong with it that it is not to be sold?" I asked the man, a little confused.
"Wrong with it? Nothing sir. It's supposed to be haunted, but if you ask me it's just a fanciful old-wives tale."
"Haunted?" By this point I was quite sure the man was not of the right mind.
"Yes indeed! By the Opera Ghost himself, but as I said before, the whole thing is just a story. So, will you accept my offer?"
Thinking it over, I decided to accept. I had been looking forward to this opera since the distant relatives I had been visiting recommended it to me. I paid for the ticket, half of it making its way into the man's pocket, and, after promising not to tell a soul about what had transpired between us, headed in the direction of my newly acquired seat.
Reaching the door of Box 5, I lifted my hand to open it when I heard a voice behind me.
"Are you lost sir?"
I turned around to see a woman in her late forties standing near me. This, I thought, must surely be Madame Giry.
"I, well I…," at a loss of words, and not sure quite what to do, I held out the ticket, forgetting the promise I had made earlier.
"Oh not again!" Madame Giry exclaimed glancing over the ticket she had taken from my hands. "I have told that man over and over again that he is not to sell this box! It is dangerous, you know, to use Box 5. The Opera Ghost doesn't enjoy people taking his
box. Oh no, he won't be happy about this at all," She handed the ticket back, looking flustered and angry.
Deciding that no one at the opera was in their right mind, I replied to the women, "I'm sure I can defend myself, Madame. No ghost shall bother me tonight. Now, if you don't mind," I turned back to the door, opened it and stepped into the theatre box, "I shall miss the starting if I continue with this mad discussion."
Closing the door behind me, noticing Madame Giry's astonished look as I did, I found a comfortable seat and began to mull over all that I had heard. A ghost? They were all crazy, that was for sure. Even if their happened to be a specter haunting the box, should I be nervous about an "opera ghost"? Well, in any case, I needed a bit of excitement. The curtain rose, cutting off my thoughts, and the opera began.
As I watched, my thoughts kept returning to the thought of the ghost. 'Now, you are being a fool,' I said to myself, trying to force my attention back to the performance, but to no avail. Then in the middle of the first act, without warning, a cold draft seemed to fill the room.
"You are not very bright, Monsieur Leroux," a man's voice whispered in my ear.
Startled, I looked around me only to see empty darkness. 'Now you're making a fool of yourself. Hearing things is not a good thing,' I thought to myself; and with a great deal of self-determination, returned my attention back to the stage.
"You would have done well to listen to dear Madame Giry," again I heard the whisper this time in the opposite ear.
Surely I wasn't imaging it. It sounded so real! I stood up and walked around Box 5, looking behind every chair, checking every dark corner, but made no discoveries. Sitting back down, I looked toward the stage, but this time I wasn't paying any attention to the young Christine Daaé, the one with the voice of an angel. No, I was thinking… thinking of what to do. Fear was overcoming me. Should I leave? After I had managed to get such a wonderful seat? No, I would ignore the voice. It did not harm me. It seemed to only go so far as to speak. Should I fear that?
"You are a fool, sir. If you do not wish for your life to end, I would advise leaving," the voice was no longer beside me, but behind me.
This was going too far. I was not going to take a threat to my life. Standing up, I spun around to face where the voice had come from. Expecting to see the box empty, I was completely caught off guard when, standing in front of me, I beheld the corporeal source of that sinister voice. It was a man, as I had expected. He was of middle height and wearing a black cloak. Over his face he wore a mask. Whether it was to hide his identity, I wasn't sure. But his clothes were not what caught my eye. It was what he was holding in his hands. A rope.