How to Survive the Phantom of the Opera
#1 - Don't try and stand out.
I've gone officially insane.
I know – people joke about that all the time (why? I'll never really understand as insanity is no laughing matter…) but I swear to you. I have.
I have no particular clue where to begin my story. Or what to say. As of current I am standing behind a curtain – in front is a stage. Performing on the stage is the company. The company of the Opera Populaire. Oh I know what you are thinking! Gee! That name sounds awfully familiar! It should be.
Pictures of masks, fops, moustaches and ballet should now be eroding your mind. Yes, it is the Phantom of the Opera. But there's an issue with my story and this is where my supposition of mental instability comes in. For you see, I'm not gazing out at the theatre company of people playing the company of the Opera Populaire.
Those harmonizing bodies are the company of the Opera Populaire.
I am in the Phantom of the Opera.
Literally.
Sliding the curtain back and covered in darkness again, I crouch and hug my knees to my chest. I then close my eyes softly. I know exactly what you are thinking – she's lost it. And to be honest, I've made it pretty clear that I probably have. After all, I am the most vulnerable to a crisis like this being a die-hard Phantom fan from about eight years old. I remember the distinct memories of sitting in the theatre, my still braced teeth chattering together as the masked man made his final appearance on the stage.
But – please, don't mistake me. I know the story's not real. I mean – I know it was created from a book of some sort and – oh god. I open my eyes slowly as I hear them, rehearsing that number from Hannibal.
Oh god. I find my throat going dry as I shut my eyes again.
Best start from the beginning shall we?
Well, it started from the loud noise in the attic.
There were rats in the house.
I've been suspecting it for a while now. I don't care what my housemate– Jesse – might say. I know. Because I hear stuff up the attic and unless she can explain that to me I don't think I'd believe her that it's just nothing. I suppose it could also be a ghost…but what are the chances of that?
My brown eyes were wide open – almost bloodshot as I heard the first knock up the attic. It always happened the same way and the same time. I don't know why – if I had OCD rats or something. But, it didn't matter because I was convinced that tonight I will find out whatever was up there. Even if Jesse didn't help.
Holding my torch, I flicked the switch and found its light shining into the quelling darkness across my open door. Sleepily, I rubbed my eyes and then grabbed my robe. Tying the belt around my waist, I padded forwards – silent. I could hear the knocks – they were always quite subtle after the first loud one. But it was odd that I always seemed to be the one who was bothered by it – Jesse never noticed!
Ridiculous. And I've got a presentation to do tomorrow.
Best do this quick then. Swallowing softly, I scowled as I realized I hadn't shed off my damn retainer. Ugh. "Jethieeee!" I murmured, pushing the white door open and rolling my eyes as I was greeted by soft snores. "Jethieee can thoo hear thath?" Nothing. The lump in the bed was still and slowly heaving as she breathed. I sighed and felt myself shiver. The stairs to the attic was down the hall.
I found myself staring down and feeling like I was in one of those crazy slasher movies.
Of course – my best guess is that my slasher was a colony of crazy rats.
Shaking my mane-like morning hair (Christ, I hate it), I began to make my way forwards. Slow and steady. I felt my heart thudding potently against my ribcage, my torchlight shaky as my hand trembled. I saw the door to the attic right at the end and I knew it was my time. "Let's kick arse." I grinned, deciding that a Bailey's before bed wasn't healthy and almost skipped towards the door.
Twisting the silver key, I stepped inside.
Jesse and I never use the attic – we found it dead creepy. We used it only for storage as most attics were utilised for. As I crept up the softly creaking stairway, I realized how long it had been. Best be careful though as there were loads of spiders in here. I didn't mind them… but in the dark – well, they were pretty scary. My mouth opened as I yawned softly and so in the process I closed my eyes.
It was here that I realized that there may be a kingdom of rats up here.
I wouldn't look too threatening with my eyes closed.
My eyes flashed open and I found myself blinking as I saw no rodenst. In fact, I was pretty blank for a few seconds as I surveyed my surroundings – until of course, I heard the thud of a fallen book behind me. I immediately spun and my jaw fell.
For a few seconds, my mind barely comprehended the sight – and I was left absent. It took me a moment to recover and really absorb what I was seeing.
There – right there was a girl.
Like a fourteen year old girl. I couldn't see much of her as it was still dark and my arm was refusing to move the torchlight – but her face was illuminated by the candle she held. Wait- candle? She was staring at me, her face frozen and absolutely mortified. I knew why. She must be terrified because I actually did look like something off Rocky Horror. I mean – I was never a morning person –
Wait. No. That's not the issue. Focus Emily!
"Eckthuth me whath the hell are you thoing in my athic?" If that made sense.
I exhaled afterwards only to gasp as the girl whipped around, carrying her candle with her and disappeared behind the curtain. Yes, the curtain in front of my small attic window. It had always been there – it was really thick, and green like the colour of…something nasty. I didn't touch it. It wasn't a very big curtain though as the attic window wasn't exactly the biggest thing in the house.
Either this girl had forgotten she wasn't the size of a two year old – or she had never been good at Hide and Seek.
Positively confused, I sighed deciding that this was definitely not the three am mood I was meant to be in. Seriously, it was three am. I wasn't going to call the police or anything – I'd just send her home.
Reaching the curtain, I pulled it back. I wasn't sure what happened afterwards. It all blurred as my eyes fluttered shut from shock. I was so shocked I didn't even have time to scream.
I found my head feeling like it was being squeezed.
There was a thud.
A fervent cloud of dust down my throat.
And then, I hit the floor. "Outh," Ouch. I murmured softly, unsure what had happened as I groggily groaned, padding the floor for my torch but found nothing.
It all went wrong the moment I opened my eyes and my ears stopped buzzing.
'With feasting and dancing and song,
Tonight in celebration,
We greet the victorious throng,
Returned to bring salvation.'
I recognized the chorus almost instantly.
"Oh my thod." God. I gasped rather excitedly as I realized how amazing my dream had become! I had landed right in the middle of her Majesty's!
Grinning wolfishly, I peeled back the curtain in front of me, sneaking an eyeful inside. I could see shadows of people dancing – and the theatre…well that was strange I had been here more than enough times to -
And then it hit me.
I'm not in London.
Panic had bubbled, drying my throat until I almost fainted. If I wasn't in London – then where the hell was I?
After three more minutes of genius deliberation, I concluded that if I wasn't in London – I had to be in the Phantom of the Opera.
And that was when I found myself squeaking and doubting my sanity. Because somehow – defying the law of physics, chemistry, biology and reality –my attic's dusty, ancient curtain is a portal to a parallel world that doesn't reallyexist.
I did what every sleep and oxygen deprived person who doubted their sanity would do.
I fainted.
And that's where I'm at.
I've woken up just a few moments ago – sweaty, and drowsy. Of course, when I realized I was still in the same corner and I could still hear the chorus of the same faux opera – I deliberated closing my eyes again.
What the hell do I do?
I need to get out of this dusty corner – but what I was wearing wasn't exactly something that was going to permit me to slip out unnoticed. I mean come on. My hair was so frizzed I – I can't even describe it. And the pyjamas. And socks that has turtle designs. Choking as I painfully took off my retainer, I slipped it, disgustedly in my robe pocket.
Ugh.
Brushing my cheek softly with my hand, I begin to rumble in the darkness – trying to find something to knock into. Something to pull. To find out where the hell I that was when I clumsily elbowed a wall to the side. Thud. "Oh fop!" (I hate doing the serious cusses) I swear, as I feel the back of me get shoved forwards. Oh god. I have been leaning on something! Damn.
Unable to control movement, I found myself rolling forwards past the curtain. I land, jaw hitting the floor, body flat on the ground. My head pokes out of the hem of the curtain and I groan outwardly, unable to control myself.
"Oh fo – oah!!" My swear falters in my mouth as I found myself staring right in the faces of three men. For a second, I almost think they missed me.
Until the slightly larger one's eyes bugged out at me.
Oh fop.
"Why," The man examines me – or rather my head. "Who are you?" All their eyes were on me now, scrutinizing me as I considered hitting my head on the floor for a concussive exit. I was pretty sure that if I did that – I'd look like a mop of furball on the floor. Maybe they can sweep me away and I can just lament.
Oh god. "I'm –" I'm breathless. I can barely muster words in my head as I try to ignore this swelling urge of familiarity in my mind. You know them. No – I don't. I don't. "I'm…" I'm unable to answer as my eyes continued to examine them back.
It can't be.
I'm crazy…I'm crazy… "Some, assistance, madam?" He inquires kindly, elderly face undeniably warm. I glance at the hand, feeling painfully drowsy again as my head lolls around.
I'm crazy…I'm crazy…
"Yes, please," I manage as I take his hand and slowly get up.
Oh god. If you see the looks they were giving me.
I watch as they eye me up and down – from top-to-bottom. My blue bathrobe. My green socks with turtle ears. My lion hair. And my pale, sickly face. I wince as their eyes settled on my t-shirt which just showed through the top of my robes. It was luminescent pink with the words:
You know you want this etched proudly on the middle.
It was Jesse's. I borrowed it. My face burned as I swayed sideways, inwardly deciding that I officially hate my best friend. Good lord.
"Y-you're…the new managers of the – the theatre…" I'm not falling for this. I'm just – playing along. And trying to get their eyes off my chest.
The man – Firmin, I'm damn sure– smiles at me, "Why yes! Richard Firmin and Gilles André... We have just been taking a lovely tour before informing the cast – " His gaze pauses. I find my breaths stuffing inside. "You are part of the cast, yes?"
My face screws up.
I hate lying. I really do. And for a second, I almost wanted to lunge at the both of them, telling them how much they are as how I imagined them. Even the old, theatre owner too. But then I realize – I'm actually gawking.
They were mimicking my mouth which was bobbing up and down as I struggle to search for words.
"S-sorry, n-not yet," I stammer with a large swallow, fingers fidgeting as I try to flatten my hair discreetly, "I – I was planning to try out for a part…but I got lost and…"
I don't think they were getting anything ofwhat I was saying.
André laughed politely, "What bizarre footwear madam," He chuckled twisting his grey moustache habitually. I smile back at him, face scorching from embarrassment.
This probably wasn't lady-like. Did they wear socks in Phantom time?
I forgot what time period Phantom was in – I used to know…but my mind was a mess…I almost forgot what my name was for a second…
At least I decided not to sleep naked.
I would never anyway – but getting tipsy before bed got you places.
"I'm Emily, by the way," I suddenly splutter before deciding that they needed my last name. But my last name was Wilshere – was that too English? Think of a French surname…French…French… "Dupont." Perfect. "Emily Dupont."
"Ah," I watch as Firmin suddenly claps his hands – striking me as I stumble in surprise. His eyes widen in apology, "Many apologies Miss Dupont. You seem awfully – "
Great. They couldn't even think up of a word of how weird I look.
How weird I was.
"I know," I laugh as all four of us suddenly laugh in chorus. I know now. They think I'm an alien. They're probably going to get the authorities on me. Oh well. Maybe then – I'll wake up. And then Jesse – but – do I want to wake up?
If this is Phantom of the Opera.
How fopping awesome was this?
"Would you like to follow us, Miss Dupont? Perhaps, we can find someone to guide you into that correct direction," Lefevre tells me, flushing as I realize now that he does have an announcement to do and the other two men seem –
Fascinated and utterly freaked out by me being there.
Fair enough. "Of course," I nod weakly, and watch as the older man shoves the other two forwards. I softly shuffle behind them, pleased that the whole of this part of the backstage was empty.
They were deep in rehearsal. I could see through the gaps in the screens I was passing all the dancing and – oh fop! - Madame Giry!
The Girmeister.
She's walking around, scolding some of the younger dancers and propping up one of the ballerina's arms for not being straight. "Wow," I breathe – observing the woman as she continued to survey her troop – her stance completely military. She reminded me of my Mum actually. God, I hate my mum.
As I watch the three men enter the picture – I find myself smiling widely, my lips lifting to a buoyant curve. I sure look crazy smiling like this but there was something about this crazy dream of mine. Something real about it. I didn't know if this was a crazy dream but I remember my days of watching the Phantom of the Opera as a child into a woman.
Memories of sobbing as the cloaked Phantom sings the reprise of All I Ask of You…trying to repress the desire to throw a shoe at Raoul as he and Christine are perched on the roof…
Oh wait – is that just me? I laugh quietly, rubbing my head as I realized how little I've slept. Maybe this is a delusion. But how often can you have a delusion so real?
And so…Phantom.
Maybe this was a blessing in disguise and I should enjoy it? I take a soft, nasal inhale as I glance forwards – towards the entrance to where the company was rehearsing. I was tempted – so tempted to just peek. Maybe I should?
My liquid gaze falls on my socks and I find my words silenced. I couldn't go in there like this. I want to observe the story. Not steal from it. There was no fuzzy haired alien in Phantom. Just a shadow. Just until my delusion ends and I wake up from my coma.
Yes.
And that's when I see it. The spare, ballerina costume hanging on the side of the rack of costumes. I don't think my legs would look very good in something so tight – plus I like ballet but I stopped doing it three years ago when I knocked a girl's teeth out from a pirouette of mine….
Bad times.
But then I glance at the other costumes – and I realize that although I would love to dress up as a bear for my nephew, Duke – I would pick ballet any day.
Sneakily, I grin and skim forwards.
Phantom of the Opera…watch out.
I'm Emily Wilshere.
And I am really clumsy.
A/N: Just something random XD Now information about Emily - she is an INSANE E/C shipper. So, you can sort of imagine which way she's going to try and sway the story. She's not gonna meddle...maybe a little. :D It's MEET THE CAST next!
disclaimers - anything you recognise is not mine. lost in phantom - related to lost in austen, the tv show.