Disclaimer: I don't own the Phantom of the Opera.
Masked by DarknessI was never afraid of the dark. Night would open up, wrap tenderly around me like a warm blanket. I could feel the wind caress my face. I only took off my mask in the dark. In the dark, no one saw me. No one screamed.
"What is that!" A little girl hides behind her father.
In the sunlight, my face got hot and sweaty under my mask. Once, when I was a child, I took my mask off to wipe the sweat out of my eyes. I was in a marketplace, and everyone started screaming. If they'd had their way, I would have been killed.
"It's hideous!" I scramble to pick my mask up off the ground.
I almost wish they had killed me. My childhood was hell. My parents wanted nothing to do with me. The second my face was seen, they gave me a mask. I haven't been without it for more than an instant. My mask protects me, but not as much as the dark.
"Filthy monster!" Other children throw rocks at me.
Even the mask put me at risk. People wondered what was under it. Older children often stole it, to see what I was hiding. No one ever tried to stop them. I was only ever safe in the dark. In the darkness of my mother's womb, I was safe, secure. No one knew how deformed I was – yet.
"Twisted freak!" A glob of mud hits my ear, splatters into my eyes.
I became feared – a creature of darkness. An angel, fallen into Hell with broken wings. I ran from the harsh, searing light, welcoming the cool dimness.
"Kill it! Kill it!" Someone smacks me over the head with a pitchfork.
Few people realize how many kinds of darkness there are. There are the lesser shadows, of course, but I never lingered in those. The shade under a tree in the midst of summer, the forgotten corners of a room that light from the window can't quite reach, the shadow just inside a doorway on a sunny day – these were forbidden to me, far too exposed, too bright.
"What could be that ugly and live?" Women rush to shield their little ones from the sight of me.
I sought deeper darkness, farther from the piecing sun. A room without windows, a canopy bed with black curtains pulled tight, midnight streets without lamps – not enough, not nearly dark enough!
"It's disgusting!" A man turns from me to empty his stomach.
I found my refuge underground. Empty wells – I could climb their stone walls more nimbly than a lizard. Caves – I never had trouble finding a safe way in or out. Most of all, I relished cellars, so dark and sweet. That's what led me to the Paris Opera House.
"That thing should be locked up!" Constables come running to investigate the commotion.
Cellars. Secret passageways. I could bask in the dark, and never be seen. So many shadows. Darkened boxes. I could watch the opera and enjoy it, instead of being chased away.
"Is it gone yet?" A child is hiding his face in his mother's skirts.
When one leaves the light, one must use other senses. Hearing became acute. Smell and taste as well, but hearing and touch especially. Music was the only beauty I could reach for, the only one that wouldn't shun me. I shouldn't say that. The darkness is beautiful, too, if you know how to look at it.
"Get back, demon!" A man waves a cross at me.
Shadows are my friends. Darkness is my ally. Night is my guardian angel.
I put my mask back on, and slip back into the shadows.