Yay! School's out! I graduated! Now, hopefully, I can write more fanfiction. Or "phanfiction," as this might turn out to be... I have an idea growing. Yay! My brain can still function even with no more school left.
Okay, here's something... maybe. -grins evilly-
Disclaimer: Nothing's mine unless you read something that is not familiar, then and only then is it mine.
An apology ahead of time: My computer is being dumb, so if there are bolded sentences in the story and you can find no reason for them being there, blame my computer.
My idea: A stagehand witnesses all of the Phantom's doings. Hopefully original. New perspective, maybe?
I arrived on a cool April day. I was not alone; there were many people my age (and one or two younger) arriving. I had been hired out as a stagehand. For many a year I had dreamed of working in theatre, and here's my chance!
Probably twenty or so of us stood outside of the towering Opera Populaire, waiting to be acknowledged. I looked around. Mighty large slew of us to all be hired at once. Odd. But thatwas none of my business. I was just glad for a job!
A middle-aged man opened the large double doors. Within seconds, all of us were inside. Poor man. Probably got squished. I'll try to find him later.
What a sight! Most of the room had to be solid gold! Two large staircases led to the second floor, each seeming to be made of gold, too. Where does Paris get all of this? Lucky aristocrats.Never have to do any real work. Well, I guess working in a theatre isn't real work, either, but it pays well, and is never too boring. And at least it is working, not just sitting around signing papers and counting money.
A slightly elderly lady led us to the actual theatre, where we would be working. There, she gave "the drill," so to speak.
"Welcome, everyone, to the Opera Populaire. We are all glad to have you here. Before I take you backstage, are there any questions?" She sounded like a school teacher. I raised my hand. "What do we address you as?"
"Mme. Giry," she replied.Giry; Giry, I repeated it in my head. I raised my hand again. There's nothing wrong with learning.
"Yes?" she asked.
"Mme. Giry, why do you need all of us? Why are you so short on stagehands?"
She smiled. "Well, you've probably heard of our Phantom, no?" I nodded. Who hasn't? "Several of our previous employees have claimed to have seen him, our ghost, and refuse to come even near our theatre. That's why.
"Now, I trust that none of you are frightened by a ghost," she said, speaking to everyone now. Some people looked a little nervous. Mme. Giry must've noticed this. "If you are, fine. That's why there are so many. If you want to leave, go now. I will tell no one."
The smallest person (a girl, maybe thirteen) burst into tears and ran out. Poor child. How embarrassing. Two other people walked out, but with much more maturity. It was amazing how much smaller the group looked.
Mme. Giry waited till the three people walked out, and motioned towards us. "Follow me," she said. Very casually, too. Like this happened all the time. Maybe it did. How should I know?
The moment I laid eyes on it, I knew that I would love my job. All the hustle and bustle of preparing something great. I could hardly take it all in. Mme. Giry walked briskly, pointing out something important here and there.
People from our group floated away, finding their interests. I wanted to do everything, but (obviously) I was only human and couldn't do it all.
We passed giant hunks of intricately painted and sculpted sets. Was that what I wanted to do? No. I can't paint. Mme. Giry pointed upward at one point. A giant catwalk hung above us, with what seemed like thousands of ropes. Each, I'm guessing, controlled something on the stage. Wow. Too bad I'm deathly afraid of heights.
A long line of ballerinas passed us. That would be a nice job, but I highly doubt that was one of my choices. I can't dance, anyway. Too clumsy. This was harder than it looked, and I hadn't even started working yet!
We wound out back on the stage. I had found nothing that had fit me. I felt empty. I was the only one left, save for Mme. Giry.
"Well, Elise, find anything?" she asked. Her voice surprised me a little. She knew my name... how? I shook my head no. She raised one of her eyebrows. "Come with me, dear." With that, she began to walk away. She's fast.
Up a winding staircase. Across a hall. Where was I going? Mme. Giry stopped short in front of a bare room. An office. She sat down and motioned for me to, also. "Elise, why did you come here?" she asked. I was confused.
"Well, I've always wanted to work in theatre, so when this job opportunity came up, I 'jumped the gun,' so to speak." Lovely, a job interview.
"What can you do?" she asked.
"Um, I can try to do whatever you ask me to do," I said, picking my words a little carelessly.
"No, I don't want to know what you can try to do. What can you do?" She asked again.
"I... can... I don't know. I never thought about it. Could you please help me?" I didn't want to sound desperate. I must've though. Mme. Giry got up and motioned me to the door. "Follow me," was all she said.
Down to the stage again. But this time, she led me down to the side, past the curtains and to yet another winding staircase. Up we went. A sturdy hidden balcony awaited us. There, there were two men, one staring at us and the other drinking something foul-smelling. Some sort of alcohol.
"Elise, meet Amos..."—this was the staring one. Handsome, almost—"...and Joseph." The drinking one. "They work the sets and the curtains. For now, until you find something that you find suits you better, you will work with them. Amos, I trust you shall teach Elise what ropes and levers do what. Good luck, my dear."
With that, Mme. Giry descended back down. I had decided not to tell her I hated heights, because she had helped me find some job, even though she didn't have to. Nice lady.
Amos sent right into telling me how to work a good bit of the stuff. There were no rehearsals going on at the time, so he let me practice with the curtains. Easy.
The props were more difficult. Each had one exact position the you had to get it in. If you missed your mark, people would notice, so Amos said. He was nice. I decided I liked him. Not that way, though.
Stupid Joseph. All he did was sit and drink. And drink and drink and drink. Only once did he acknowledge me, and what he said made no sense. In a slurred voice he sang:
Little stagehand best beware.
For the Phantom is sure to have new prey.
Only then did Amos interrupt. "Joseph, shut up. Enough girls have been frightened by you, and we don't need any more. Come, Elise. Rehearsals are starting. Don't let Joseph the Drunk bother you."
Most of the set was still to be hung correctly, so we were permitted a break from our posts. I decided to stick around. This may be interesting.
Amos and Joseph had left. They're probably used to rehearsals and bored by them. But this was a new experience for me.
The orchestra began a song from the play the theatre was putting on. Hannibal, I believe it is called. I watched as a loud Italian woman began belting out barely understandable words. Man, even I could probably sing better than her.
I heard someone scoff. I thought I was the only one up here. Maybe Amos or Joseph had come back. I looked around the balcony.
Then I saw him. Nearly completely hidden in the shadows was a man all in black. Except for the mask he wore. It shone in the tiny bit of light that survived to get up to where I was. I could barely see him.
The Phantom? Nah, it couldn't be. Joseph's song is getting to me. Stupid drunk. But I don't think this "Phantom" saw me. That may be for the better.
The goings on down on the stage ended abruptly, and I saw the Italian lady strutting around again. I don't like her. She's annoying. She was yelling at two old guys. The composer was mingled among all of them.
The Italian Lady marched to the center and began "singing." I had heard the song before. Now I didn't like it. I'm sorry if I sound like a critic, and I know I can't sing, but it sounds like she is screaming more than she is singing.
I saw the man move. Like jump to another place. I ducked down to as close to the floor as I could get. He landed quite close to me. I wondered if he actually had seen me, and was messing with me on purpose.
He released a rope. He seemed to have a good sense of knowledge about the place, because the single rope he cut unleashed rolls and rolls of painted canvas: a background. It fell right onto the Italian lady, and she fell.
I laughed, quietly. Stupid, stupid me! When I looked to my side, I was eye to eye with the man in the shadows. I retracted a breath, scared that he was gonna kill me, but all he did was put a finger to his lips, signaling me to be quiet.
Then he ran off.
At that moment, Joseph returned. He began pulling up the dropped canvas with a large lever. "As God's my judge, I wasn't at my post!" Joseph called down. Stupid drunk. I am so glad he hadn't seen me. I know by now I don't like Joseph.
Soon afterwards, he left again. I slunk down the stairs, careful not to look too far down. Now, on the stage was a young woman, very pretty, singing. Really singing. Not that screeching noise the Italian lady was attempting. I think I like the song again. This time, I could understand the words.
Think of me
Think of me fondly
When we've said good bye
Remember me
Once in a while
Please promise me you'll try
And then you'll 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.
The woman sang. I lip-synched along with her. She was very good. And didn't try too hard. She's much better than the Italian lady.
Mme. Giry was standing slightly offstage, by a young blonde girl. Her daughter, maybe? I figured it was. They looked a lot alike. Mme. Giry saw me before I got to her. "Child, what happened?" she asked in a hushed tone.
It sounded like she already knew the answer. "I– I saw a man. All in black hiding in the shadows. He had a mask on the right side of his face. He released the set onto the Italian lady." I felt dumb telling Mme. Giry this. "Carlotta, you mean?" she asked. I figured that was the Italian lady.
"Yes, Carlotta. He also laughed when she started singing," I concluded. Mme. Giry rolled her eyes. I heard her whisper something under her breath, but I couldn't quite make it out.
She diverted her attention to the girl on the stage. "Who's she?" I asked her. "Christine Daae. Wonderful girl," she said. With that, she walked away, leaving me there with her daughter. Might as well be friendly.
"Hello, I'm Elise. I started working here today," I introduced myself. "Hello, I'm Meg. You've met my mother, haven't you?" Aha! So she is Mme. Giry's daughter!
Awkward silence. "Did... did you really see the Phantom?" she asked me. "Yes, I think so." This was a conversation starter. "I'm deathly frightened of him! Did he see you?" I nodded. This made Meg excited. "What did he do to you? I heard he puts spells on people he wants to leave him alone." I paused. Am I under a spell? Maybe.I don't feel any different.
"No, I don't think I'm under a spell." I said. "Then what did he do?" she asked excitedly. Boy, was she gonna be disappointed. I shrugged. "He told me to be quiet." Meg stared. I laughed.
Mme. Giry wisped me away from Meg. Down more hallways. She led me to a decant sized room with three or four beds in it. "I nearly forgot. This is where you will be staying." She pointed to a bed in the corner, by a window. I was overjoyed. "Y–you mean I get to live here?" she nodded.
We both walked inside. She closed the door. "Elise, it is of great importance that you try to avoid the man you saw in the shadows. To everyone, he is the 'Phantom,' but you have seen him as he really is, just a man. He will not harm you if you avoid him, and don't spread rumors about him." She emphasized that last part.
"I didn't tell rumors about him. Meg asked me questions, and I answered them. Didn't stretch them at all." She seemed a little uneasy, but didn't say anything else.
"Come, my dear. Rehearsals are still going on, and you need some experience. The show will begin in about three hours' time. You must be ready." She opened the door again, and we both walked to the stage.
I smiled. I couldn't help it. I had come face to face with the "Phantom of the Opera," and (guess what) I'm not scared!
Okay, this was a good bit longer than I intended it would be. Amos, Elise, the group of stagehands, Joseph's song, and any dialog spoken that was not in the book, play, or movie is MINE!
I am sorry if this was terrible. State your opinions. If you thought it was terrible, tell me. Then I can delete it, and no one will ever know this filthy thing ever came into existence save for the few people who accidentally read this.
I don't think that my computer was stupid! Yay! But, I might be wrong. Point out any mistakes (bold spots, typos, etc., etc.,). 'Twould be greatly appreciated!
There is hardly any movie dialog for three reasons: 1) I'm lazy, 2) I have only fully seen the movie four times, and 3) this story is coming from a fifteen year old's memory. Like she's gonna remember a lot of dialog! And besides, she was only listening to bits and pieces. So, ha!
Yeah, please review, and I will try to have a new chapter up real soon for you! No flames, please, and if you do flame me, you must have a worthy enough reason.
Until next chapter,
DaydreamingTurtle