This is the first phanfic I ever wrote. It's a one-shot based on the 2004 movie ending. I hope you like it. Constructive criticism is appreciated. Reviews are also nice.
Shameless plug: Please go read my other story called Into the Fires, I am Consumed.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
A Strange Gift
It was such a strange gift she mused. A music box placed sadly by a lonely grave. It was quite strange, and Eileen had seen many odd things in her young life. Her father had been a surgeon in the city for quite sometime before his death. His death was what had brought her out to the graveyard that cold day.
With a bouquet of flowers clutched to her breast, she watched the old man wheeled away before walking slowly to the grave he had just left. It was a modest grave for a Countess, she thought while reading the inscription. A nice inscription it was with date of birth and death, the woman's picture. The thought crossed Eileen's mind that she was quite a pretty woman even for her old age.
Eileen set her flowers down on the cold earth and knelt in front of the grave to study the music box. She didn't dare pick it up. Some unseen presence commanded her not to touch. Instead she put her face as close to the object as possible without touching it. She looked at each line of its face, each stitch in its coat. She imagined the tune it would play and the way the symbols would clash together in perfect time. For some inexplicable reason, this box enchanted her. She supposed it was the air of mystery. Who had this box belonged to? She seriously doubted it was the old man's. No, it must have meant something to his wife. But what could it have meant to her?
With a new curiosity, Eileen stood up and noticed the single blood red rose with a black ribbon tied around the stem placed on one side of the grave. A diamond ring had been tied in with the bow. She titled her head to the side before straightening as she felt a shadow pass behind her. Eileen turned, but no one was there. With a frown, she turned her attention back to the rose. This was quite strange indeed.
A music box, a rose, and a ring all on the same grave on the same day. She doubted that this was a coincidence. Could this woman have had another lover besides her husband? Maybe an affair her husband knew nothing of? Somehow Eileen doubted his. The Countess's picture did not give off the impression that she would have done anything dishonest, not even lie about her age. No, it was something else. Possibly unrequited love? Yes, that seemed correct, but it still didn't explain her questions.
Eileen reread the inscription several times hoping to find answers hidden somewhere in the inscription. Countess de Changy. Why did that name seem so familiar? She recalled a faint memory of her father telling her a story of the Opera Ghost. It was faint for she had not paid much attention thinking it was just a silly old story. Now, though, the names came rushing back to her. Christine Daee, Raoul de Changy, a mysterious phantom, and undying love had been part of her father's tale. Could this be the famous opera singer's grave?
A strange feeling overcame Eileen then. An overwhelming sadness she could not explain seemed to hover over her. Once again she looked behind her. Once again no one was there. She got the feeling that her time here was not welcomed. Someone else wanted to pay their respects to this woman and wished her to leave. Eileen was not yet ready to leave though. Too many thoughts swirled around in her head.
She tried to recall all the things she knew about Christine Daee. She didn't know too many things. That was quickly discovered. Eileen only knew that she was said to have sung with the voice of an angel. A strange occurrence with a phantom had been mentioned, but she had never believed. It seemed impossible to her that a masked genus could have hidden under the Paris Opera for so many years undetected.
Kneeling again, she studied the grave one last time. Whoever this woman was, she had given Eileen so many things to ponder over. So strange that a little object like the music box could have given her so many mysteries that she knew would never be solved. Picking up the flowers intended for her father's grave, she placed one on Christine's before rising and leaving to attend to her father's. The winter air was so cold she could not waste any more time in this one spot.
Minutes later after paying her respects to her father, she made to leave the cemetery. Glancing behind her to the strange grave, she saw a cloaked man standing there straight backed gazing sadly at the picture of Christine's face. He reached out a shaky gloved hand and gently stroked the picture's cheek tenderly before sighing sadly. Eileen noticed a white mask covered half of his face. With wide eyes, she left the cemetery. It seemed her questions were answered. She now believed in the strange story of her childhood.
As she walked farther away, the faint tinkling melody of small symbols came floating to her ears along with a forlorn voice whispering.
"Masquerade. Paper faces on parade. Masquerade. Hide your face so the world will never find you."