Hey everyone..thanks for choosing my story to read. I'm horrible with summaries and plots so just let me know what you think.

I guess the reason I'm writing this, is to tell a story that no one else has heard before. A story that everyone doesn't seem to know. My name is Lauralye Benneite, and I am an old woman now. I sometimes forget about the young, beautiful girl I once was. Now I'm not an author like the great Herman Melville, nor have I ever written a book, but this story needs to be told. I feel that soon I shall die, and if I do without writing this then no one shall know about me, or him. Him? You ask? Who is he? The man that I am writing about is more than a myth, and I spent almost half my adult life with him.

This is the story about a man,who no one understood and sought out to be nothing more than a hideous monster. But I of course didn't think that of him, which is why this story must be told. For when I die, this journal I am writing in can be found and someone if not everyone can finally know the truth about the so called "Opera Ghost." Now I never knew him as the "Opera Ghost." to me he was only a man, but not just any man. I thought of him as a pure genius, who turned my life into the happiest it had ever been. So to begin the story, I must tell it to you the way it happened or else it wouldn't be a true story now would it? No. So in order for me to bring up my days spent with the "Opera Ghost," I have to start at the beginning. I was born in Paris during the coldest day in December of 1851. My father and mother were so poor, that the only shelter they had away from the snow and sleet, was in a leaking shack on the other end of town. I was swaddled in newspaper and had a wooden crate as a crib. I never got to know my parents, because on that same day in December both my parents came down with consumption and died shortly after.

I was found a day later by the authorities and was taken to the local orphanage. I guess you can say that the remainder of my childhood was simply normal….I personally hated it because not only were we treated like slaves inheriting terrible conditions and revolting chores day after day, but the clothes we were put in were nothing more than rags. I think I wore the same pair of black, cheaply made boots for eight years of my life and when they would break, the despicable Mr. Crawley would just nail the worn soles back together. Who's Mr. Crawley you ask? Mr. Crawley ran the orphanage that I lived at. He was a revolting man in his fifties, with disgusting blonde hair and horrible decaying teeth. Sometimes I often thought that he was bringing up all us girls, to be sold off to a brothel of some sort.

Each day and night we were only fed cabbage soup, and sweets were not aloud. Once I remember my little roommate Silva, bringing back an éclair from the bakery when she found a Franc on the street. After dinner was long over she called myself and three of our other good friends back to our room. Once the door was closed off, she cut up the éclair into five pieces and passed it out to share. It wasn't long before Mr. Crawley broke into our room and found out what we were doing. Not only did he lash us each ten times for breaking the "No Sweets" rule, but he also made us watch him eat the éclair in front of him. It was during the end of the year 1870 that I decided I was going to break away and be free. I still remember that night, as if it were yesterday. The air was cold, it was snowing heavily and the hallways of the Orphanage were ever so quiet. I hated the thought of leaving my friends behind, but earlier that day I heard Mr. Crawley talking to one of his disgusting businessmen that came to visit him. They were sitting around in his office smoking fags, and drinking cheap liquor. My revolting chore for the day had been to take a bucket of water and scrub the bathroom floor that was down the hall from his office. While I was returning I passed the door of his office to hear my name being said and stopped to listen. What I heard haunted my future and I knew right then in there I had to leave, before it was going to be too late. Now I was eighteen going on nineteen years old and usually when you turned that age you were to be married. Now since I had not gone to school, and I had not gone out into the working world, I had not met a suitable man. I couldn't imagine who would want a scrawny girl like me for a wife anyway, but when I stopped to listen, my world flashed before my eyes.

There in the room with Mr. Crawley was this old disgusting man, who looked very similar to him, talking away about wanting a wife to cook and clean for him, and that's when I heard Mr. Crawley say..

"Lauralye will be turning nineteen soon….I'll sell her to you for twenty thousand francs."

The thought of even living with that man turned my stomach to the point where I wanted to puke right where I stood, let alone having to perform any sort of wifely duties. I waited, waited for the gross man to deny Mr. Crawley's offer, but he didn't disagree; he shook his hand for the longest second before getting up and saying…

"You have a deal, I'll be back for her in the morning."

That night, I waited until everyone fell asleep and packed up a small bag of my belongings, and opened the rusty window near my bed. I couldn't become some sex slave to a man who never shaved and always smelled like a pub. I didn't say goodbye to any of my friends, nor did I tell them where I would be going because even I didn't have a clue.

Once I was out the window, I walked down the snow covered streets without a cloak and without proper shoes. Each time I took a step forward, my feet became wet with snow, so wet that I wouldn't be surprised if they became frost bitten. The dress I wore came down past my knees and had so many holes in it, that the cold wind swept right through to my thighs. As long as I didn't have to become that man's wife, I didn't care. I knew as long as I got far away from the Orphanage, my life would become safer. After walking almost the whole night, I found shelter in a dark alley beneath a wooden crate. I took a seat in the wet snow and placed my hands underneath my arms, to keep warm; but sadly with all the wind it didn't help. I thought about the work house, and perhaps asking for a job there. At least it would be dry and I could make a few francs for washing clothes or something. Then I thought about even going to ask for work at the Brothel but knew that if I went there, leaving the orphanage would have been for nothing. The following morning the sun did not come up nor did the snow stop falling. The temperature had dropped several degrees and I cursed the sun for not shinning and warming me up just a tad bit.

Eventually I trudged on in the snow wearing my wet shoes and soaked dress hoping to find work or even a dry place to rest. It was then that fate played throughout my body and caused my stomach to rumble with hunger. To this day I still thank my stomach for doing so, because if not for my stomach I wouldn't have found the man that this story is all about. My stomach rumbled in hunger and so I stopped to place a hand over it to hush it up, only to look around and find a large wooden fence placed up in a field not too far from where I stood. Curiously I stepped closer to it and walked around it's huge form. The fence must have boxed in a mile of the field and I could only wonder what it was holding inside it. As I walked around it, I finally came to a locked gate. I needed to know what was inside the fence and so I came across a small hole in one of the posts and found myself kneeling down to look through it. Inside there was like nothing I had ever seen before. All along the left and right sides there were white housing tents, and at the far end a gypsy caravan with smoke coming out the top of it's chimney. Down the other end there were empty wooden stages with unlit lanterns along the sides of them, with a large painted sign that spelled out "CIRC DU FREAK"

It was then that I realized I had come across a traveling fair of some sort, and knew that I was bound to find something to eat if I could get inside. I pushed on the post hoping to get it to move aside so I could slip my slim body behind the fence but it wouldn't budge. I then moved to the next post and tried to do the same, but once again I found myself still outside of the fence. Finally I moved to the next post and this time I got what I wanted. The post was so loose, that as soon as I pushed on it, it moved aside leaving a small gap to fit myself inside. Once I was on the other side of the fence, I was extra quiet to make sure I wouldn't be seen. I searched around for any kind of food I could find but came up empty handed. This place didn't even keep a spare trash bin lying around to search through for even a half eaten apple.

That's when I came across a wooden ticket booth that had been painted blue and orange with a sign that spelled out "EXPOSITION DE MONSTRES QUARTE FRANCS" (Freak Show Four Francs)

I knew that there had to be something inside so I jumped into the ticket booth and looked around for anything I could steal. There was a cheaply hand made desk placed there with ticket stubs scattered all around. Ticket stubs weren't going to feed me, but if I could find francs at least I could buy something. I began to rummage through the drawers. A few quills, a book full of empty receipts, a few things of ink here and there but nothing useful. Just as I was about to give up I came across a small brown bag and opened it up to find it full of francs. I immediately spilled them out on the desk and counted each one with such happiness. First five, then ten, then twenty five and finally thirty. Thirty francs! Thirty francs were enough to buy me at least a weeks worth of meals if not a place to stay for a night or two. Everything was going so perfect until I heard the sound of footsteps getting closer. Quickly I hid the bag of francs into my bag of belongings and jumped out of the ticket booth. I looked around my surroundings only to see the white tents and the snow still falling. When I began to walk back towards the loose post of the fence I heard someone call out for me to stop. I didn't turn around nor did I hesitate to stop and think of what to do next. No, I immediately ran and as fast as I could. Once I made it to the fence, I dived through the small opening with my belongings still in my hand. I would have gotten away with it too, if not for the post coming back down over my leg and trapping me . I tried to pull my leg out, but the post continued to scrape the back of calve, causing it to splinter and cry out in pain. It was then that who ever was chasing me, grabbed my leg and pulled me back through to the other side.

When I turned to glance up all I seen was a man who I could only describe as being similar to the "Wolf man" stood there staring down at me. He had fangs and brownish hair growing off of every part of his body. He wore a black satin shirt, with brownish trousers and his boots were so big that they resembled those of Frankenstein.

"You steal from us?"

His broken English didn't make understanding easier and could only imagine what was going to happen to me now.

"You steal from me you steal from boss!" he growled.

I didn't say a word to the freakishly looking man and lied there in the snow too terrified to do anything but stare. Suddenly he grabbed me with his long furry fingers and enormous strength and pulled me to my feet. My leg was bleeding from when the post came down on me and I could hardly walk but the monster pressed me on. I wasn't sure where he was taking me to but I only hoped that it was possible out of the fairgrounds. When we came to a white tent that was bigger than the others, he through me inside and I landed on something soft. When I opened my eyes to look down I noticed that it was a red and blue threaded rug sort of like the ones they make in places like Persia. Just when I thought the worse was over, the monster's furry hand came down at me once more but this time, it snuck into my bag and took out the bag of francs I had stolen.

"This girl stole from us boss." it replied.

He then threw it past me, and I was sure it was going to his the ground and spill out everywhere, only it didn't. When the monster threw the bag of francs up into the air I heard something, or someone catch hold of it and looked up to see. There in front of me, stood the one the wolf man called "Boss." He stood at least six feet tall, thin build, dark black hair and a half white mask covering the right part of his face. The other side however, was so flawless that he could have been the mayor of the town for all I knew. His beautiful blue eyes looked down upon me with such shame before reaching over on his desk for a dog biscuit of some kind and throwing it towards the wolf man, who caught it in his mouth.

"Good job Wolfgang, you may leave us now."

Wolfgang must have been the creatures name and he bowed before his boss before leaving the tent. I still lied there on the floor too afraid to make a move and could only imagine what he was capable of. His tent however was very beautiful with it's decorative paintings hung all over and his Persian looking rugs scattered everywhere. In front of me was a hand crafted desk at which he stood at and behind it were long drapes, probably marking off where his bed was. On the other side of the tent however, there sat an old piano with music sheets scattered all around it. From what I was seeing I guessed him to be some sort of musician on the side of being "Boss."

"So you like stealing from others do you, mademoiselle?"

His deep yet frightening voice immediately drug me out of my daydream.

"I was hungry and in need of something to eat. I wouldn't have done it if I wasn't in need of serious help, Monsieur."

"How many francs are in this bag?" he asked as he knelt down to my level and waved the small bag of francs in my petrified face.

"Thirty, Monsieur." I blurted out.

"And how many did you take, Mademoiselle?"

"None, Monsieur."

The tent became silent and I heard him sigh before taking a seat at his desk.

"Usually with a situation like this I would have to notify the authorities, but I never contact the authorities and do you know why, Mademoiselle?"

I shook my head no and the man immediately stood up once more and came rushing to my level.

"Because in this fairground I AM THE AUTHORITY!"

I buried my head within the rug and began to cry. Never had I ever been so frightened in my entire life.

"Do you still want to steal from me you little vixen?" he growled.

"No, Monsieur."

It got silent once again and when I didn't get a response I looked up to see him circling my body and looking down at my dress.

"Why are you dressed in those rags?" he asked.

"I don't have any other clothes sir. I ran away from the orphanage because they were going to sell me off to this despicable man."

"And that is why you stole from me?"

"Yes and no other reason. I wouldn't have done that if I had food and money of my own."

The man who stood before me continued to circle my body, with his hands placed behind his back. His suit looked ever so soft, and he smelled of expensive French cologne. As much as he scared me, I felt safe within his tent and didn't want to leave. Finally he held out his boney pale hand, I accepted as he pulled me to my feet.

"You're lucky I feel sorry for you Mademoiselle. I know what it feels like to be hungry and wet and the last thing I need is for a young lady like yourself catching consumption. Therefore I shall punish you for stealing from me."

"Punish me?" I questioned.

"Did I stutter? Yes punish you. Therefore you will work for me and I shall pay you each week and you will have your own tent on the other side of the fairgrounds."

I couldn't believe that this man was helping me. He still scared me but I wasn't going to argue with him and accepted his punishment. Hell if it were going to keep me fed and alive it was an offer I couldn't afford to decline.

"Don't thank me and don't ask me why I'm doing this. Do we have an agreement?"

I nodded, and he nodded back.

"What is your name?" he asked.

"Lauralye..." I said in a frightened tone.

"There is a tent across the other end of the fairgrounds. It's yours and I expect you to keep it clean and to be back here tomorrow morning at sunrise."

"What work shall I be doing Monsieur?"

"I'll see what sort of work I have open, now be gone."

I was so happy at that point that I wanted to blurt out "Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" but I knew that he asked me not to thank him. Quickly I rushed out of his ten,t and back out into the cold. I ran all the way down to the end of the fair grounds where a small white tent sat. I threw back the door, to see a small cot and a desk. It wasn't much but it was going to be home. I immediately kicked off my worn boots and jumped into the covers of the cot before sighing. For the first time in my life I had a bed….a real bed, and a warm place to call home.