This tale begins with Raoul, but soon switches to Erik and Christine, I promise. Please read and review.
"A collector's piece indeed,
Every detail…"
Raoul, the once young Vicomte, now aged by time's cruel hand, sits with a monkey music box in hand.
"…exactly at she said.
Will you still play,
When all the rest of us are dead?"
"Lot 666 then," these words are spoken by the auctioneer. He paused and readied himself before continuing his pitch, which had interrupted and startled Raoul as he drifted back from memories of long ago and his former voice, which had sang so well.
"A chandelier in pieces." The auctioneer gestures to the platform where the item is, covered in a curtain. "Some of you may recall the strange affair of the Phantom of the Opera; a mystery never fully explained. We're told, ladies and gentlemen, that this very chandelier…"
A familiar face met Raoul's gaze from only a few rows ahead. It was Madame Giry. Their eyes lock only for a moment. He can see sadness there, but before he can bare a gesture, her attention turns back to the auctioneer. He wonders: why is she here?
"…which figures in the most famous disaster. Our workshops have repaired it and wired parts of it for the new electric light," the auctioneer stated.
Raoul flinched as this man's words brought for so many old memories that would have better been left forgotten. But, then why had he come to this auction? Perhaps just to lay eyes on the theater one last time? Maybe to purchase a souvenir to keep as a reminder of what happened those many, many years ago?
"Perhaps," the auctioneer continued, "we can frighten the ghost of so many years ago…with a little illumination." His words were spoken quietly and carefully as though he were trying not to awaken the ghost of which he spoke.
"Gentlemen?" The auctioneer turns and addresses his assistants standing near the chandelier. They raise the curtain, fully displaying the chandelier and it's many crystals. A single man from above hoists it up and it rises from the floor, and as it does so, the individual bulbs light and reflect off of the crystals making it a most pretty sight.
Raoul squints against the light and he watches in fascination. He glances to were the old Madame Giry is seated, but her gaze is transfixed on the sight in front of her. The music of so many years ago seems to arise from nowhere and everywhere, as poor Raoul can do nothing but succumb to it…and with it comes more then memories…it is more than just music…it tells the tale and is forever the reminder of what triumph and tragedy occurred here…and it's price…and the ghost never to be forgotten.
***
"You remember the house by the sea?"
The Vicomte opens his eyes with a start to see from where he lay that a dark figure is seated next to his bed. His heart jumps in his chest and he instinctively reaches for his cane, which rests at his bedside.
"What do you plan to do with that?" The dark figure's voice sounded amused. "Do not fret, Monsieur de Chagny. No harm comes to you."
"Who are you and what do you want?" Raoul asked as he sat up still gripping the cane in his old hand. He watched as the dark silhouette studied him as it sat too comfortably in his chair.
"You remember the house by the sea?" The voice repeated.
"Yes," Raoul answered hesitantly. "How—"
"And the red scarf?" Raoul nodded. "And the girl?"
"Little Lotte…" Raoul closed his eyes for a moment.
"Remember, Monsieur de Chagny, remember."
"I could never forget." Raoul opened his eyes and with all of his strength swung the cane at the shadowed figure seated next to his bed, but it the shadow moved across the room and was now at the foot of his bed. "Ives!" Raoul cried his servants name. "Nurse! Help!" He stared in shock and backed as far as he could away on his bed from the dark intruder.
"Monsieur de Chagny, I bring thee no harm and you treat me with such hostility." The figure paused for a moment as Raoul continued to yell for his servants. "They cannot hear you. No one can…not any more."
"What do you mean?" Raoul stared in horror.
"You died last night." The shadow's words were simple and casual.
"No…no!" Raoul sat up and cupped his face in his hands. "No, no, no…that doesn't make any sense."
"Oh, yes, you are very much dead, Monsieur de Chagny," the figure assured him. "Passed away in your sleep last night…so peaceful…"
Raoul looked up and realization dawned on him. "You are death."
"Indeed, I am." The figure bowed. "And you time is up."
"Why?"
"You simply out grew your body, Monsieur de Chagny." The dark thing brushed off its sleeve of its cloak. "It is time. You grew old and with age, death soon follows."
"I am dead…" Raoul stared at death. "Why do you urge me to remember things of so long ago?"
"It is only fair, Monsieur de Chagny." Raoul opened his mouth to speak, but death cut him off. "I must make you remember because you have forgotten…but what is it that you have forgotten? Think, Monsieur."
Raoul pondered death's riddle for a moment. "What it is that I have forgotten is Little Lotte?" he asked.
"Close…use that bright head of yours. I know age hasn't completely made you duller."
"I don't understand," said a defeated Raoul.
"Very well," Death sighed. "I will be forced to make you remember…"
"What it is that I have forgotten?"
Death nodded. "You remember Signora Carlotta Giudicelli?"
"Of course," Raoul answered. "I could never forget La Carlotta."
"You remember the occurrences at the former great Opera Populairé?"
"Yes," Raoul answered.
"You remember when you first set foot into the Opera Populairé? You walked right past her without a single glance, you know. She thought you didn't recognize her, but tell me why you didn't look at her, Monsieur. We both knew you saw her. You saw Christine."
"What relevance does this have to anything?" a very irritated Raoul asked.
Death ignored him and continued. "We both know you did not look at her because she was a mere chorus girl—a dancer and a common girl. You on the other hand were a all important patron and Vicomte and she wasn't worthy of your time or day. I know I am correct, and you needn't defend yourself."
"I know it," Raoul said bitterly.
"Christine Daae, promising talent," Death mimicked Madame Giry's voice. "Very promising."
"If I am dead and you are death, why do we speak of trivialities, when I should be really dead and nothing more?"
"Because it is not fair."
"What isn't fair?" Raoul asked in annoyance.
"Everything and nothing," Death leaned closed to Raoul. Death's voice lowered to a deadly and angry tone as he spoke. "You lived a life of fortune and happiness, Monsieur de Chagny, without a care or want in the world and you did so with your childhood sweetheart who precedes you in death.
"But, he, on the other hand, suffered greater and more than any other mortal I had ever went to collect upon their death. I had never witnessed a soul filled with so much hatred, loneliness, and pure malice…but there was also passion there…and an overwhelming amount at that…and there was music." Death resumed his normal posture and stared at Raoul.
"No, it can't be—not him—I thought this was over," Raoul wailed. He buried is face in his hands and sobbed. "No, not this. No, no, no. Not again."
"But it is," Death whispered. "It is over, Monsieur de Chagny."
Raoul looked up at death. "Then take me."
"It is over for you," Death chided. "Erik, you knew him as the phantom and yes, Monsieur de Chagny, even a being such as him is worthy of a name." Again Raoul tried to interrupt, but Death continued. "Erik did not pass so serenely as you so did in your sleep. No, he was murdered." Death paused. "I see I have your attention now, Monsieur de Chagny."
"Murdered?" Raoul's mouth went dry.
"Indeed, by you."
Raoul's eyes about bulged out of their sockets. "What did you say?!"
"Erik was murdered," Death repeated. "His death was a heartbreaking one even for me to watch and you must remember that I am Death… He died alone, of course."
"How did I kill him?"
"Erik had fallen into this pit, you see. A dark and bottomless chasm, where no light could reach him…nor could he crawl out." Death paused. "But then this little light came and helped his doomed soul and he started to climb out…"
"What are you trying to say?" Raoul demanded. "Are you saying that I stole Christine from him? Are you saying that I didn't love her? Are you saying I only won her because—"
"I did not say any of that, Monsieur," Death interrupted.
"Then why do you—"
"I would very much love to stay and chat with you, Monsieur de Chagny, but to my misfortune it seems another soul is calling me," Death stated. "It comes with the job."
Raoul remained quiet and still in his silent anger.
"So, I will come to the point of my visit," Death said slowly. "I could not take Erik's soul…so he was doomed to an eternity of a very different hell that you have not and will never experience, Monsieur de Chagny. His soul cannot rest and I cannot collect it. It sets off the balance of things, if that makes sense.
"I must collect the deceased's souls. It is the nature of the way things go and if this nature is disrupted or halted for whatever reason it brings chaos and disorder, which the big guy says that I can't allow. So, you see my problem." Death shifted his stance.
"I see," Raoul said through gritted teeth. "But what does this have to do with me? I was an honest man! I served in the navy for the great country of France! I have shown nothing but kindness and charity!"
"Those aside you have nothing." Death shook his head in disappointment. "You forgot about Christine…you wife."
"I loved her," Raoul blurted in his defense.
"Yes, loved being the key word." Death paused and sighed. "You see, Monsieur de Chagny the only way that I can collect Erik's soul is to calm it, but it is irate and it stalks about in oblivion still in search of its lost triumph, but it is futile, since she has long since passed. You can guess what comes next?"
Raoul remains silent.
"You are a simpleton…" Death paced to the opposite side of the room and leaned lazily on the wall. "How would you like a second chance at life, Monsieur de Chagny?"
Raoul sat up and nearly leapt from his bed. "Why do you offer me this?"
"I have reasons of my own, Monsieur," Death replied. "Christine couldn't accept my offer quick enough."
"What? Christine?" Raoul's eyes twinkled with thee thought.
"Indeed," Death confirmed. "But there are costs of course—"
"I don't care what they are! Give me warmth, give me life!" Raoul exclaimed as he stood and walked toward Death.
"I pity your ignorant soul," Death said grimly. "But very well. I must warn you that things my not be as they once were. It may be a different day, a different time, a different place. I only require that you do not meddle in the affairs of Erik. This is the only way to collect his soul and restore the once great order to things. If you do meddle, you will be sent to the darkest depths of hell, I assure you."
"Agreed," Raoul said to quickly for Death's liking.
"Very well, Monsieur de Chagny. I grant you this second life in hopes that you will live a better and fuller life and allow me to collect Erik's tortured soul." Death paused and when he spoke again, his voice was low and dark. "It is done and so it begins. Good luck, Monsieur."
***
"No more memories, no more silent tears." She looked out across the now snow covered cemetery as she sang and there he stood waiting; the dark figure of her past. There he stood as though he had been waiting for an eternity.
"No more gazing across the wasted years…" His voice was low and sorrowful as he sang. "No more…" His dark cape billowed from behind him in the wintry wind.
"Help me say…" Her voice caught in her throat as he heart leapt in her chest.
"Goodbye…"