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Chapter 1: The Opera Populaire
Paris: 1872
When a carriage arrived in front of the Opera Populaire, its single occupant was resting lightly inside. It jolted to a stop, the girl opened her eyes and was promptly ushered out by her new ballet instructor. She stared up from the stone staircase leading up to the ornate, front doors of the opera house. She had seen it few times in its original grandeur. During its first years of renovation she found it to be more amazing than she recalled. For a few moments she stood there, mouth agape in amazement as it was the most magnificent building she had ever seen. The opera house was not only grand in stature, but in decoration, each tarnished sculpture had been masterfully crafted.
Madame Giry touched her shoulder gently. "We shall enter now, and I will show you to the ballet dormitories. My daughter, Meg, can then introduce you to the other girls," the Madame informed her, and took up the girl's small, thin hand.
The girl returned a smile. "That will be lovely, Madame. I'm looking forward to meeting everyone. And I must add that my father and the Madame Bucher are unendingly grateful that you have accepted me into your care." They climbed up the steps and finally entered the opera house. It was an exciting and new experience for the girl. The only school in which she had ever practiced ballet had been merely a large parlor with a bar attached to the wall. When she stepped into the Opera Populaire she found the interior of the building was mesmerizing beyond her imagination.
They made their way through the empty theatre and back around the stage. The girl sheepishly noticed all of the sculptures of golden people bound on the walls by the tiers that surrounded the entire room. There were masons working every which way, and none too lazily. The firm that had purchased the building was dead set on opening the opera in a mere two years time. No one would hesitate to declare them mad.
"Goodness," was all the child had managed to whisper. Madame Giry smiled to herself, the mystique of the theatre was not wasted on this one. As they continued back stage the girl saw that even the sections of the theatre that weren't thickly ornamented were possibly all the more astounding. Then at last, she saw something familiar to her, a wall mounted ballet barre.
The lodging for the dancers training had been relocated to the stage level after several contractors explained it was not sound to place sleeping children on a platform which had had its support beams burned and rotted away.
When the Madame and little girl finally reached the ballet dormitories they found it full of girls gathered around a young woman with long, golden hair, who was telling them something very quietly.
"Meg!" Madame Giry snapped to get her daughter's attention. Meg looked up, and her mother nodded her head towards the new girl at her side.
Meg went to the girl, took her hands in her own and welcomed her, "It is wonderful to have you here in the dormitories, Carolina." She then kissed the air on either side of the girl's cheeks. And young Carolina did the same.
"It is a pleasure to be here with what shall be the greatest corps in all of Europe. If you are all to be my friends, I request that you call me Caressa; Carolina was my mother's name." The other girls giggled, and lapped up her practiced speech. Many of them began to repeat Meg's welcoming sentiments. She was touched by their displays of acceptance.
"My thanks to you all," she managed to say, "It feels as if I've settled in already." Caressa noticed curiously that one girl was sitting on a bed toward the back of the room with a sour look on her face. The girl was staring spitefully at her. When everyone had quieted down, Madame Giry quit the room.
"Caressa, you can sleep in this bed, right next to mine," offered a pale, redheaded girl with a tiny nose. She quickly introduced herself as Reinette Martin.
"Of course, thank you, Reinette." The sour-faced girl continued to seethe in her direction. "Who is that?" Caressa asked Reinette quietly.
"Oh, that's Jacqueline," Reniette answered. "The only reason she's pretending to be angry is to get your attention. She's not upset, though she may be slightly peeved because you interrupted her favourite scary story."
Caressa looked skeptically at her. "Her favourite scary story?" So Meg Giry had been telling stories.
"The story of the Opera Ghost," Reinette said this in the mock tone of a spectre.
"The Opera Ghost, I've never heard of the Opera Ghost before," Caressa admitted. Sometimes her eldest brother told her ghost stories, but she had never heard of this Opera Ghost.
"You are in such luck, Meg is going to tell it to us. Please do, Meg!" Reinette asked loudly.
"Please do what?" Replied Meg, turning toward them gracefully.
"You're going to tell us about the Opera Ghost?" Both of the girls prayed she would say yes.
"Well... I... I promised I would, did I not?" She smiled as all of the girls started to gather around her once more.
"Please, do start at the beginning!" The once sour-faced girl begged, she was now grinning and glowing with contained glee. She sat next to Caressa with her legs crossed.
"As you wish, my dear," Meg conceded and motioned the other girls to gather round once more.
"I'm Jacqueline," the newly-excited girl whispered to Caressa. "I am sorry for glaring at you earlier, but once you hear the story, you'll understand why. It's my favourite story, even though she never gets the chance to finish it."
Caressa flashed her a friendly smile. "It's all right, I'm only glad I haven't missed it."
Meg was waiting for all of the girls' excitement to wither before she began the tale.
"Long ago, in Paris, in the poorest part of the city, where the sun rarely shines, a beautiful woman birthed a child. Now, the child was alive and well, but when she asked to see him, the physician quickly told her that she did not need to look upon the boy. But she begged and pleaded to see her beautiful child. When the physician showed her the boy, she was terrified. The child was born with a gruesome deformity, marring his face." Caressa gasped, and Jacqueline grinned at her and giggled.
"A face that his own mother could not looked passed. She didn't care to look beyond his face, to nurture his soul. All she saw was a monster." Caressa listened to Meg's tale with her heart turning toward the boy.
"One glorious day, he ran from his home, but in his haste he had forgotten provisions. Desperate for food, he made his way to a carnival — always careful to hide his face. He was caught stealing from a pastry stand. The vendor who captured him brought him to the carnival manager. The manager was going to take him to the closest work house, but when he saw that horrible, frightening face he made other plans for the boy." All the girls were utterly silent, completely entranced in her story.
"A new act opened when they moved the carnival into Persia. The Devil's Child was its name, and the boy was the star of the show. He would wait, locked in a cage with people surrounding him, laughing, and throwing things at him. Then the manager would come into the cage, reveal the boy's face to the crowd, beat him, and collect the money that the people tossed to him for doing such a good deed in beating the poor, innocent boy."
Caressa was nearly crying at the blatant injustice. She was no stranger herself to beatings.
"However, things changed when the carnival traveled back to Paris. A troupe of young ballet students — from this very opera house — attended the circus. They stayed together, and soon found themselves standing next to the cage that held the Devil's Child. All but one were laughing at the poor, broken boy. She stood there with tears in her eyes, they fell from her cheeks as she watched the boy receive a beating. She remained while every one else left him. What she saw next she hardly believed." Every one in the dormitory was in pure suspense as Meg paused.
"Go on, Meg!" Jacqueline pleaded, with a hefty supply of support from the other girls.
"She watched, wide-eyed, as the boy removed a piece of rope from around a bar on the cage — and then he lunged at the carnival manager! He pulled the rope around his neck, and he squeezed it as tightly as his small frame could manage! She stood there as the life was choked from that monstrous man, and she saw fire burning in the boy's eyes!"
Caressa believed that the man deserved his punishment, but was still taken aback by the fierceness of the poor creature.
"Suddenly, people peered through the tent flap and saw the corpse of the manager. The girl quickly grabbed the boy and ran with him back to the opera house. She hid him beneath the opera house, deep under ground, on the lake. And you all know that the girl who saved the Opera Ghost was —"
"MEG! These girls should be in bed! They do not need you filling their heads with stories of the boy who became the Phantom of the Opera! The fire was a terrible accident, a stage trick gone awry. How can you tell such tales? Especially when we have a new member in our midst! You do not need to have her thinking you are simple with all the talk of the ghost, really!" Madame Giry was quite distraught, and her lips grew into a thin line. "Meg, go on to your room and I shall see to the girls tonight."
"Yes, mother. Goodnight, everyone," Meg said as she swiftly left the room, as to not impair her mother's mood further.
Madame Giry quieted all of the disappointed girls down, "Everyone, get in your beds. There is no room for discussion, Jacqueline." She used the eyes on the back of her head to stop Jacqueline from her usual protesting. "Goodnight, my girls." Madame Giry went and sat next to Caressa on her bed and spoke, "Welcome, Mademoiselle Bucher, everything will be all right here in time. This is what your father wants for you. I will do my best to make you the most wonderful ballerina that you can be. All I need is your help, and, of course, you must discipline yourself." She ran a hand through the girl's hair. "You are a fine, young ballerina. I promise that if you apply yourself, you shall be endowed with the skills that will give you form with which to lead the stage."
"Just as Meg does now?" Caressa wondered. She dreamt of being as graceful as she knew Meg to be.
"Just as Meg does now." Madame Giry gave the girl one last smile before turning out Caressa's lamp. "Sweet dreams."
Paris: 1874
In the summer of 1874, Caressa was dared by Jacqueline to sneak a key away from a custodian, and use it to have a peek into Christine Daae's old dressing room. She accepted of course, the adrenaline rush of taking the first breath inside the Madame De Chagny's dressing room made her nearly burst into a fit of giggles. Both girls crept around inside, but they were slightly disappointed — it was an ordinary room, already renovated.
That was, except, for the mirror on the wall. They immediately regretted entering the room the moment they set eyes on it. It was gigantic, even to Caressa who towered over the other girls. Neither of them ever truly believed that the Phantom actually existed, but the mirror loomed in front of them. Each of them had the paranoid feeling that they were being observed. Caressa timidly touched the glass.
Neither girl had noticed the door close, nor had they seen the dark figure walking toward them. Both girls screamed as another figure appeared in the mirror. Madame Giry grabbed them by the arms and dragged them out of the room. She too, had sensed some one watching them. That night she scolded the girls harshly in front of all the ballet rats, and no one could wait to hear their story.
Paris: 1877
Three years later, a trio of girls stood alone on the stage of the opera house late at night.
"You should have heard la Carlotta sing in Il Muto. It was so terrible, I have I've heard better sounds coming from dying cats," exclaimed Jacqueline.
"Oh, but Jacqueline, I did see her for one performance." Caressa Bucher made flourishing motions with her long arms, and cleared her throat. "Pooooor fool, he doesn't know-ho-Ho-Ho-HO-HO! HO-ho-Ho-ho-HO-HO-HO-HO—"
"Stop it!" Pleaded Reinette. "You sound so much like her," she shuddered.
"Yes, you frighten me sometimes," Jacqueline said with her hands shielding her ears.
"My father was here for one of Christine Daae's performances. I have never heard her, but he told me she had the most beautiful voice he had ever heard." The other girls relaxed, and removed their hands that had been previously holding out the sounds of la Carlotta. Caressa started again, imitating Christine, "On that day — that not so distant day, when you are far away and free, if you ever find a moment spare a thought for me—"
"Stop again, I say! You shouldn't be able to sound so bad and then so sweet, it's not fair," Jacqueline pouted falsely.
"Oh, do another one for us. Just one, and then we can go back to the dormitory," Reinette started begging. She had grown taller, and counted herself lucky that her tiny nose had grown as well.
"Shall I do Dido and Aeneus, or... Don Juan Triumphant!" She asked loudly in her best man's singing voice. Caressa had never seen Don Juan, but she had learned all of the libretto and story when Jacqueline had shared her most guarded secret with her. The night of the infamous chandelier incident, Jacqueline had snatched the sheet music that hadn't been burned from the conductor's stand, and kept it hidden beneath her bed. Her father had played in the orchestra and she was privileged to hear the performances from the pit.
Jacqueline screamed for Caressa to sing Don Juan.
Reinette intervened, "Maybe we shouldn't." She looked nervously at the others.
"What? Shall the ghost hear me; is he going to whisk me away right in front of your eyes? No. Besides, you are the one who asked for me to do one more." Caressa was staring at her friend with a soft look in her eyes — in the hopes that she would not take too much offense to her teasing.
"I suppose it's all right, then," Reinette conceded. Though her nervousness had not dissipated.
"I'll only do the end, and I shall sing Don Juan's part, end of discussion." She puffed out her chest and cleared her throat as deeply and loudly as she could, "Past the point of no return, the final threshold. The bridge is crossed , so stand and watch it burn. We've past the point of no re- AAH!"
Caressa gasped as she was struck upside the head and knocked to the ground. Her petrified friends stood like statues as they stared at the dark figure stood by her side.
"Mademoiselle Bucher, I apologize." It was Madame Giry who had hit her. Caressa could hardly believe it, the Madame was like a mother to her. "That was unnecessary, but you should not be singing such songs. They awaken too many ill memories," the Madame explained in a harsh voice. She glared at the other girls. "You all need to go to bed, now!"
None of them hesitated, and they went straight back to the dormitory. Madame Giry remained on the stage for a moment, and prayed that the girl's voice had not travelled far. She was prepared to cast Caressa as the principal ballerina for the next production, and she did not want the girl's reckless abuse of such dangerous music leading to her death. . . or a fate far worse. There was no doubt in the Madame's mind that Caressa was the finest ballerina she had ever taught. She had surpassed even Meg, who had been instrumental in strengthening Caressa skills. The Madame had noticed the decline of quality dancers at the Populaire after the fire, so it was a blessing that Caressa reflected her legacy in the very best manner.
There was only one trait that would hold the girl back from becoming a Prima Ballerina. . . Her voice. Madame Giry felt that Caressa had the ability and discipline to be a great ballerina, but her foolishness in continuing to sing the Phantom's forbidden songs jeopardized everyone at the Populaire. She had always feared deep in heart that if the Phantom still lived, he would discover some horrible way of punishing Caressa for singing his songs. Perhaps he would drag her down into his darkness and. . . do as he pleased. It was for this reason she did not want the girl singing. It threatened her career, her happiness, and her innocence.
Back in the dormitories, Jacqueline spoke quietly, "I cannot believe she hit you."
"It didn't hurt, but it surprised me, and it frightened me." In truth, she had nearly burst into tears.
"Awaken ill memories. What does that even mean?" Reinette wondered.
"The Phantom of course. She's getting a bit rusty round the hinges if you ask me. She actually believes in Him now," Jacqueline giggled.
"Don't you?" Reinette asked her companions seriously.
"It's fun to play at, but he doesn't exist," Jacqueline tried to convince her.
"What about Don Juan?" But Reinette was trying in vain.
"He was just another opera singer, and all that was a stage maneuver gone horribly wrong. I mean to say — a week later Christine and Raoul got married. It's not as if they were really in life threatening danger," Caressa explained, and knew she had subdued the girls bickering.
They fell quiet for a moment.
"Fine, I'll do it," Jacqueline gasped, breaking the silence.
"Do what?" The girls asked suspiciously.
"I'll prove he's not real. Caressa, do you have any hair pins?" Jacqueline asked. Caressa rummaged through her bedside table and produced one, "Good, now we can get into Christine's old dressing room."
"Excuse me?" Caressa was confused by her reasoning.
"Listen, if you stand in front of the mirror, and sing his songs, we can prove he doesn't exist. . . To Reinette," she whispered in Caressa's ear.
"All right, let's go, but we must be very careful. Madame Giry will take a rod to us if we garner another indiscretion tonight," Caressa cautioned. They snuck out swiftly and made their way for the hall of dressing rooms. A small lamp they carried with them lit the hallway, and they noticed that unfortunately everything appeared more sinister at night. The trio slowly approached the door.
"Give me the pin!" Jacqueline ordered quietly, and Caressa quickly handed it over. She worked the lock fruitlessly for a few moments, until it clicked, and she pushed the door open.
Everything was exactly as they remembered it.
"Can we be quite quick about this?" Reinette begged.
"Not scared, are you?" Jacqueline teased.
"No, but what would Madame think?"
"It doesn't matter, she struck Caressa," Jacqueline hissed. "All right, sing."
Caressa stood frozen in front of the mirror. He doesn't exist, this is silly, she told herself. But suddenly she was worried that perhaps he was there, with his eyes trained on her. Perhaps he was waiting for her to sing. "I will share with you one love, one lifetime. Lead you, save you from your solitude. I just want you with me, here beside me. Anywhere I go will you come too! Angel, that's all I ask of you!"
The room was dead quiet when she finished.
"I told you he doesn't exist —" Jacqueline was interrupted with a crash by the vanity, a vase had toppled over the edge. "We should go, right now." The other girls nodded their wholehearted agreement.
Jacqueline and Reinette raced out in front of a slightly dazed Caressa, and the door shut as she attempted to go through it.
"Jacqueline, this is not funny, I'm scared. Please, do open the door, I'm really frightened!" She cried.
"She didn't do it. The door shut of its own accord. I'm not joking," Reinette told her seriously. "Try to open it from the inside." Caressa turned the knob both ways violently, but the lock did not give way. "Are you all right?" Reinette heard Caressa breathing heavily. "Shall we fetch Madame Giry?"
"No, you'll only get yourselves into trouble. I'll just wait to sneak out when someone comes to clean tomorrow morning." Caressa was deeply scared, but she tried to sound brave.
"It's dark in there, is there a lamp?" The two girls heard silence from within, and then a clanging of metal.
"I've found one, you girls get back now," Caressa ordered.
"Good luck," Jacqueline whispered before taking off. Caressa was scared out of her wits then, and she swore she heard something scrape against the vanity.
She lit the lamp and peered around the room. She saw the vase that had fallen earlier held a single red rose with a black ribbon tied around it. She walked toward it, took it in her hand, and breathed in its permeating scent.
When she glanced up at the mirror, she saw something white floating behind her. She was too late to defend herself as two large arms came around her fast. One held her mouth closed, while the other held her arms to her sides. The last thing she remembered before losing consciousness was the white shape that had come from behind her—
—The white mask.