Disclaimer:

I do not own the characters or the opera house this story takes place in. Rather I do this for fun and fun only and no money or anything else really but for fun. So yea, this is just for fun.

Summary:

The story is well known, the stage was set ages ago. But things were found in the old opera house that shed light on the truth of the tale, good or bad, what sort of man was the phantom of the opera?

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Palais Garnier: Paris 2016:

The cistern below the opera house was mostly off limits and had been since the building had been constructed. It was not a lake but rather a tank that held water that would have flooded the opera house and was there in case of fires. Indeed the fire fighters of Paris train here and have no issues but one that very few talk about, for there is no violence or malice in the figure so no need to speak of it. The Opera ghost could be seen at times but when one went to speak to the figure, it vanished. Yet it was not harmful and indeed was a helpful fellow if one could call it that. Hardly the specter of the novel and so many movies about it.

The phantom was real as anything but was a helpful peaceful fellow. Tools could be found when needed, a costume that had been damaged would turn up fixed, things like that. Yet few spoke of this, thinking it would destroy the luck the phantom brought. The only thing to disappear was food, and not much and on this summers day the cistern was cool and dark and training was going on. It was at this time something was found, dry and perfectly preserved, where something should not have been found. A book, or a diary of sorts, typewritten on a old typewriter and left where one could find it. The tale that came from it was as strange but truthful as a novel had not fully been nor had the movies or the musical.

"So what do you make of this?" The manager of operations said to one of his actors.

"Truthful, I have seen the ghost, there is a reason he does not wish to be seen." She said, "he is a kind soul, but alas has no looks to go with it the poor dear."

"He is real, but not violent?"

"Non, he is a sad figure, but then I have heard him laugh so maybe not so sad, I don't wish to put this on Facebook or Twitter." She said, "even now talking of him seems to not honor him?"

"Do you think he wanted us to see this?"

"Yes, I do, I do not know if any will read it after us, but if the ghost, or as I call him Erik wish us to, then I shall. If this is the truthful story, then let us see it come forth, if he wishes."

"Why wait so long?"

"I know not."

Both pondered this strange turn of events. Truly the ghost was real, but it was not a harmful fellow, and none thought him so. He was helpful and perhaps this tale would show the truth of what had happened all those years ago, three centuries and nearly an hundred and forty years ago. The tale had a forward but that was damaged and so the tale that follows is missing that but everything else is accurate as far as one knows. The records show that everyone in this story did exist and there are birth, work, marriage and the like for nearly all here, all but one as will come out.

Paris France 1920:

It was just after the great war and the party had just begun, or so it seemed. Everyone was celebrating the "victory" over Germany. That the whole war was one big brawl between heads of states that killed, maimed and left forever changed young men and women was not spoke of much. The war was over and so the celebration was still going on. The grand opera house Palais Garnier was ablaze with electric light each night. Everyone who was somebody came at least once a week. Actors, singers, dancers and the like were here and entertained greatly. The building is as described in the great novel, a lake there is if one wishes to call the vast cistern cast in eternal night below such a thing is there too.

I was reporting on a gala when I came across the great Christine Daae (or Christine de Chagny) was with her distinguished husband the honorable Vicomte Raoul de Chagny . She still sang for it was her passion and love but she had no need, the Vicomte took very good care of her and was a very wealthy man. Their only daughter had married well into a family that owned several iron mines, vast ranch land that had oil on it and a line of work clothing. Their eldest son was being groomed for the family business, the second was in the French Foreign legion. They were a happy family but rumor had it that things had not started out that well.

I was invited to talk with them and do an interview and found them pleasant enough to speak with. Indeed, they were as humble as one could get, and I had not known who they were I would not believe them to be rich. A few days after the invitation I showed up at their Paris flat, they were clad in ordinary clothes, he in a simple suit, she in a simple gown of green that went well with her still dark hair. I was invited in and offered good coffee and a light an airy fruit cake, a nod to lady Christine's Swedish heritage. The flat was tastefully done, it was a light an airy place, and felt more Swedish than Paris but very charming all the same. It was clear the Vicomte was devoted to his wife and loved her dearly and catered to her needs and wants.

"So how do you like the new play?" The Vicomte asked.

"Very well sir." I said.

"Please, we can be friends here, call me Raoul, formalities are not needed here." Raoul replied.

"Very well, Raoul." I said, "are the rumors true about the ghost?"

"They are, but he was not a bad man." Christine said, "he loved me dearly, oh so dearly and I grew to love him too, oh not that way, but as a brother. He wanted the best for me though I was very angry with him and his methods at the time"

"They were brutal, but he loved Christine and knew he never could have her, ah his heart was not for her! But the one who won her heart, ah! He would have to prove that love, I was angry for a time with him after that, but grew to understand his great love for Christine and made peace with it."

"He was in the Opera house then?"

"Before, he was the angel of music who saw to it my voice was well trained from a very young age, paid for my lessons and the like." Christine said, "then he went to Paris and when I ended up at the Opera he helped to make me great, out of love."

"This love was cruel though." I said.

"No doubt, but none died, oh one did, but he was evil it turned out and Erik would have none of that evil in his opera, but shall I tell you the tale, even the parts that will seem shocking?"

"Yes, that would be good." I replied.

The tale that followed was one that I had not expected. True many elements were the same but there were differences that I could not have foreseen. I will let the reader decide for themselves what kind of man Erik (last name unknown) really was. Was he the monster portrayed by the novel or something else?