Abendmusik

by msof57

Lisette is the prima pianist for the Palais Garnier, a German who desperately tries to fit into the Parisian ways and draw as little attention to herself as possible. As La Carlotta's selfishness is beginning to detriment the opera house and a young soprano begins to rise as the new prima donna, she comes to meet the man whose musicianship is the first to ever challenge her own.

1. Prologue

Prologue

The humming would come at night when she least expected it.

She knew of the rumors of the Opera Ghost. The ballerinas would huddle together, whispering with terror in their eyes if anything on the stage was out of place or a cast member suddenly fell ill. The stagehands often felt uneasy as they walked above and around the stage, jolting if anything in shadow moved too quickly. Many had even claimed to have seen the face of the Opera Ghost, pale white and soulless as it disappeared into the darkness.

She didn't believe in ghosts. But the humming was beginning to make her wonder if she was going mad from the long rehearsal hours.

It was so soft and lulling that she often didn't detect it right away. The tune always seemed so familiar to her, yet she could never place her finger on what exactly it was. She would often poke her head into the hallway, wondering if it was one of the late-night cleaning maids, but there was never anybody there.

There had been one time where she could've sworn she'd seen somebody move on the other side of the ensemble room, but when she went to investigate she discovered only the shadow of a string bass against the curtains.

Her fingers dancing across the piano was enough to keep her mind focused and unable to pick up on other things going on around her. Many joked that once she was invested in a piece of music, there was no use of trying to get in any contact with her once she began practicing. But the sweetness and richness of the voice is what drew her attention, perhaps for the first time in her life, from her practicing to the mysteriousness which was presented before her.

She knew it wasn't the so-called Opera Ghost because those who dared to say they had heard the Opera Ghost had only ever heard him speak, never sing. He was also rumored to only communicate when he wished to make alterations to a performance and nobody ever paid attention to the orchestras with them buried beneath stage in the stalls.

Resting her elbow on the piano lid and feeling the bumpy flesh on her cheek, she gave a disheartened smile. Nobody would be interested in speaking to her anyway the minute they saw her. It was the reason why she fit in so well as part of the orchestra, where she could be heard but never seen, just as she liked it. It was part of the reason why she practiced late at night in the opera house, when the place was nearly abandoned and where she was less likely to run into someone or be overheard.

She rested her fingers on the ivory keys, closing her eyes briefly before taking a deep breath and diving into the beginning of Act IV, the most challenging act in the opera. Her fingers flew and stumbled, causing her to mutter under her breath and wipe stray pieces of hair out the way that had fallen into her view. Despite the challenges of this particular opera, she loved being in the ensemble room this time of night when she knew she wouldn't be disturbed and she could play as loudly as her heart desired.

It wasn't until she finally reached the chorus in the final scene did a strange sound catch her ear.

Letting the chord she was playing ring out around her, she abruptly took her hands off the keys and whipped around, squinting in the dark at the areas of the ensemble room that weren't lit by candles. It was abandoned, except for the occasional swish of a curtain near an open window. She couldn't help but feel a shiver go up her spine and stood slowly, squinting as she picked up the candle she had near the piano and took a step forward. Suddenly, she couldn't help but let out a gasp and feel the candle fall to the floor. She flew to the other side of the room, covering her ears and shaking, looking wildly about her. She could have sworn she had heard that mysterious humming right by her ear, but as she cowered in the nearby corner, the room was as silent as it had been before she'd begun practicing.

She went back to the piano, picking up the candleholder to use as a weapon if need be. But when she sat at the piano bench, she remained there for several minutes before daring to play again.

As she played, she let her fingers begin to take a mind of her own, venturing from the recitative at the beginning of the act to the tune which had been hummed in her ear, filling the silent opera house with a satisfaction she couldn't quite place and didn't know if she'd ever understand.