PLEASE READ!
So this is my take on the Phantom of the Opera. It will feature E/C heavily and very little Raoul. So you have been warned. Now the most important point. My phantom is very different from that of the musical/movie/book. For starters he is only a little older than Christine. His personality will be very different. You will see this right from the beginning, so if you don't like the idea, just don't read it.
I am going mostly off the movie and musical and will stay close to the canon, but with some changes in what causes these events to happen.
I will probably use most of the songs if not all of them.
All right, you have been warned about this story and remember, keep your hand at the level of your eyes.! (')_'
Disclaimer: I do not own the Opera Populaire. Firmin and Andre do. Haha just kidding, we all know who the real owner is.
Also this all belongs to Gaston Leroux and ALW.
He watched duly. The rehearsal had been going well, but Carlotta was still a talentless diva, nothing would ever change that. Not that he paid much attention to her. His sights were set upon the one of the chorus girls. His finely tuned ears listened for her angelic voice as she moved flowingly through the stage. His thoughts were only interrupted when the new owners stepped in, interrupting the rehearsal. They talked a little, then grovel for Carlotta to sing for them. He sighed. When were people going to understand that she was a tone-def?
He smiled, thinking of a plan to make her go away for a nice long while. He grabbed a letter he had written upon acquiring the information that the opera had new owners, and let it drop, unnoticed. Then he pulled out his knife, grabbed the rope that dropped one of the sets and cut it.
The backdrop fell, safely away from all the actors, but close enough to give them a scare. He chuckled as he watch Carlotta jump and Meg Giry run through across the stage, screaming about The Phantom of the Opera. After a few seconds of screaming and agitated ness, they all looked up, by which time he was safely gone into one of his many secret passages.
She looked up instantly after the backdrop fell, seeing just the flourish of a cape before its wearer exited. Christine tried hard not to smile. He always had a twisted sense of humour and Carlotta was not his favorite person, but the way he seemed to perpetuate the rumours of the existence of "The Phantom of the Opera" was down right laughable. Ever since he had revealed himself, mask and all, she had found a strong sense of comfort in him. His angelic voice, the gentle power that emanated from his strange, stormy grey eyes, was almost entrancing. But then she remembered those moments, those few occasions when something would displease him and a shadow would roll over him, his features changing, distorting into the face of evil, the face of a Phantom. But within moments, after a few deep breathes, her angel would return, smiling apologetically and they would go to the lesson.
"Christine Daae could sing it sir"
Megs mention of her name brought her into the present world. She looked around realizing the Carlotta and Piangi were both gone and the new owners had a very worried look on their face.
"The chorus girl?" Firmin asked, laughing.
Meg pushed her forward.
"She's been taking lessons from a great teacher."
Christine looked at her friend angrily. She had told her that in great confidence and did not enjoy Meg telling the entire cast.
"And who might that be?"
Christine paused, unsure of how to answer."I...I don't know Monsieur."
Both rolled their eyes in unison, but Madam Giry interceded.
"Let her sing for you. She has been well taught."
"I don't think I..." but the piano was already playing the intro and Meg pushed her forcefully forward yet again.
She began nervously.
Think of me
think of me fondly,
when we've said goodbye
Remember me
once in a while -
please promise me
you'll try.
She stuttered slightly and tripped over the words. Then she closed her eyes, thinking of him.
"Deep breath and just let the air out" he heard him say.
When you find
that, once
again, you long
to take your heart back
and be free -
if you
ever find
a moment,
spare a thought
for me!
She finished the song, opening her eyes. They all looked at her in awe. Madam Giry being the first to speak.
"I think you just found a new leading soprano."
"Yes quite so. Please continue with your rehearsal." Firmin said and he and Andre left.
He closed his eyes, simply listening to his angel's voice singing the intricate melody. He had worked her on this particular song and as beautiful as she sounded during their time together it was nothing compared to when she was in front of thousands of people who had paid to see her. She seemed to take their energy and sing back to them in her bewitching voice.
We never said
our love
was evergreen,
or as unchanging
as the sea -
but if
you can still
remember
stop and think
of me . . .
Think of all the things
we've shared and seen -
don't think about the things
which might have been . . .
Think of me,
think of me waking,
silent and
resigned.
Imagine me,
trying too hard
to put you
from my mind.
Recall those days
look back
on all those times,
think of the things
we'll never do -
there will
never be
a day, when
I won't think
of you .
We never said
our love
was evergreen,
or as unchanging
as the sea -
but please
promise me,
that sometimes
you will think
of me!
She finished with a big flourish and the crowed got immediately on their feet. She looked at her audience, smiling. Then her eyes went up to box five and she saw him there, half in shadow, but clapping all the same.
Madam Giry showed Christine to her new dressing room, a large place with a beautiful mirror running along its back wall. In the middle of the room, just lying on the floor was a single red rose with a black satin ribbon. Madam Giry grabbed it and handed it to her.
"You did well. He will be pleased."
Christine thanked her, taking the rose and Madam Giry left to deal with the dancers.
"Brava, Brava, Bravissima"
She smiled at the sound of the mocking voice, recognizing the dulcet undertones that emanated from everywhere and nowhere in the room.
"Christine. Christine!"
This time it was a female voice, young in its sound, but very familiar to Christine.
"Christine" her Angel repeated, chuckling as Meg entered the room.
Where in the world
have you been hiding?
Really, you were
perfect!
I only wish
I knew your secret!
Who is this new
tutor?
Christine looked at her blonde friend, thinking of a way to answer. She knew he would be listening to what she had to say.
Father once spoke
of an angel . . .
I used to dream he'd
appear . . .
Now as I sing,
I can sense him . . .
And I know
he's here . . .
Here in this room
he calls me softly . . .
somewhere inside . . .
hiding . . .
Somehow I know
he's always with me . . .
he - the unseen
genius . .
Christine, you must have
been dreaming . . .
stories like this can't
come true . . .
Christine, you're talking
in riddles . . .
and it's not
like you . . .
Angel of Music!
Guide
and guardian!
Grant to me your
glory!
Who is this angel?
This . . .
Angel of Music!
Hide no longer!
Secret and strange
angel . . .
Although she had known him for a while now, she also knew that more mystery lay behind his mask. Maybe now that she had performed so well he would think her worthy of his secrets.
All of a sudden Madam Giry broke into the room.
"Meg Giry. Are you a dancer? Then come and practice," she instructed her only daughter.
Meg left, taking one last look at Christine, who was staring oddly at the mirror.
"Little Lotte let her mind wander . . ."
The voice came from behind and although it sounded familiar, she could not place it. She turned to see a strange man standing in her doorway, holding flowers and smiling happily.
"I'm sorry monsieur, you must have the wrong room. I do not know a Little Lotte."
His face fell slightly upon realizing that his once childhood friend did not recognize him.
"It's me, Raoul. Remember?"
Again it all sounded vaguely familiar, but still, she could not place him."
"I'm sorry monsieur."
"You father played for my family. Sure it was long ago, but you must remember our picnics in the attic!"
And finally it came to her. Years ago, when her father still lived she had met Raoul. She must have been ten at the most and he just a little older. She smiled kindly at him.
"Raoul, I must apologize. Of course I remember, its just has been a while."
"Of course Little Lotte"
She grimaced slightly. She did not enjoy being called that, but decided it was not the time to tell him.
They both stood there awkwardly, until he realized he had brought her flowers. He handed them to her and she accepted them graciously.
"I was hoping you would join me for supper," he smiled excitedly at her.
"Raoul, I can't."
"I shan't keep you up late."
"I..I.." she stammered but was quickly interrupted.
"You must change. I must get my hat. Two minutes Little Lotte," he said as he opened the door to leave.
Insolent boy!
This slave
of fashion
basking in your
glory!
Ignorant fool!
This brave
young suitor,
sharing in my
triumph!
This time there was no hint of a smile in his words, no playful tone to his voice. It was pure and absolute anger. She turned around to look at the room, unsure of what to do, but glancing in the mysterious mirror.
Angel! I hear you!
Speak -
I listen . . .
stay by my side,
guide me!
Angel, my soul was weak -
forgive me . . .
enter at last,
Master!
Flattering child,
you shall know me,
see why in shadow
I hide!
Look at your face
in the mirror -
She walked towards the mirror, never breaking eye contact with her reflection.
I am there
inside!
Angel of Music!
Guide and guardian!
Grant to me your
glory!
Angel of Music!
Hide no longer!
Come to me, strange
angel...
I am your Angel ...
Come to me: Angel of Music ..
The voice returned to its angered state, harsh, yet entrancing. Christine vaguely heard someone knocking at her now locked door. She stepped into the mirror, towards his promising, outstretched, hand.
Please remember to leave a review! All comments are welcomed!
(')_'