A/N: This is essentially a retelling of Andrew Lloyd Webber's musical, "The Phantom of the Opera," from the Daroga's point of view. Please take the time to review this story, I'm new to writing fan fiction and would love some feedback!
It had been twenty-four years since the events of the Opera Populaire, and I felt every single one of them. It was a miracle that I was still breathing, after all the stress that my dear friend had caused for me. I lived a quiet life now, with only the company of my once-servant, Darius. I had released him of his duties long ago, but he has stayed with me despite that. Darius has no family as of now; all of them either dead or back in Persia. I must admit I feel a great level of remorse for dragging him to Paris along with me, and forcing him to leave his family behind. He often assures me that it isn't a problem, and that he would happily follow me anywhere, but he does not hide the sadness in his eyes well, and I can see that he misses his relatives dearly.
Darius and I reside in a small apartment just outside of town. I don't leave the house often, for he buys all the necessities for us two. We pass the days with reading and occasional conversation. Darius frequents the library to pick up books in an attempt to keep the both of us busy. I have read so many in the past years that I fear there are no more books in the world that I haven't read, yet Darius always manages to find me something new.
Another indulgence of mine is to read the newspaper. Because of the fact that I don't leave the apartment often, it successfully allows me to catch up on the news going on in the world. Darius arranged for it to get delivered to our door, which is quite convenient.
Today, a headline caught my attention. It seemed that the Opera Populaire was holding an auction. The Opera's popularity had long since decreased, (pun fully intended) presumably because the events involving the supposed Opera Ghost had gone public, thanks to a nosy journalist. The owner was going to close it down soon, which was the reason for the auction.
"I think I may go to the auction at the Opera Populaire." I told Darius, closing the paper. He looked up from his book, studying me.
"Would you like me to accompany you?" He asked, out of politeness or interest I could not tell.
"This is one trip I would prefer to make alone, my friend." I answered, smiling sadly. My life had never been the same since those years when The Phantom of the Opera haunted the Populaire. I was curious to see what was left of the place.
The once-grand Opera Populaire was now in disarray. From the exterior, it was easy to remember what it had looked like in its prime, when people from all over the country ventured here to see the performances. However, the interior was an entirely different story. Everything was covered in a thick layer of dust. The seats had rotted through almost completely, and the regal curtains that hung over the stage had been torn to shreds. Cobwebs coated the walls and pillars, and the floor was filthy beyond recognition.
The auction itself was set up on the formerly magnificent stage. Pieces of the opera house's history lay on a table near the auctioneer's podium. The auction had begun a lot earlier, but I didn't mean to stay for the entirety of it, having no intentions of buying anything. I walked up to the large and impressive stage, listening as the auctioneer called out different lots.
"Lot 665, ladies and gentlemen." His voice echoed through the large theatre, bouncing off the cobweb-covered walls. "A papier mache musical box in the shape of a barrel organ.
Attached, the figure of a monkey in Persian robes playing the cymbals. This item, discovered in the vaults of the theatre, still in working order." I recognized the music box as the possession of my dear old friend, the Opera Ghost. I had seen it many times before, in his home beneath this very stage. The porter wound the crank on the machine, and the familiar tune floated through the room.
The auctioneer began the bidding, the others on the stage raising their hands slightly at the mention of prices. The music box sold to the elderly Vicomte de Chagny, whom I remembered meeting on more than one occasion. Time had certainly aged him, as he looked almost as old as myself. He examined the piece, no doubt remembering the events of long ago like I had.
"Lot 666, then: a chandelier in pieces." The auctioneer gestured towards a large object in the center of the stage, which was covered by a white tarp. "Some of you may recall the strange affair of the Phantom of the Opera," he continued, "a mystery never fully explained. We are told, ladies and gentlemen, that this is the very chandelier which figures in the famous disaster." I closed my eyes, looking back on that fateful night. It almost seemed like it had occurred just yesterday, but I knew that it had ended long ago. I opened my eyes as the auctioneer continued.
"Our workshops have repaired it and wired parts of it for the new electric light." I watched closely with curiosity, as all of the people in the room looked towards the chandelier. "Perhaps we can frighten away the ghost of so many years ago with a little illumination. Gentlemen!" I stared in astonishment as the cover was ripped off, and the chandelier- fully lit up- rose above the stage and resumed its rightful place hanging from the ceiling.
Looking on the old chandelier, I found it very easy to recall the famed incidents of many years ago...