N.E.M.O.-i had this tucked away and hidden and i reopened and i got inspired more. this story is mixed with the books, and the movie. so sorry if u get confused. i have always loved the Beauty and the Beast stories. They are so cute and we need them into today's society. anyways this is narrated by Christine Daae and Raoul de Chagny's daughter, Belle. (how convenient huh lol) anyways it might seem a little confusing in the beginning but her age is 18 years old. Plus some of the ages might be weird and not correct well i m sorry this is a fanfic. enjoy and please review! Peace.
DISCLAIMER- I do not own any of The Phantom of the Opera. The characters from POTO are not owned by me. But the other characters are owned be me.
In Loving Memory, Christine Daae
My mother told me stories about the angel of music. She said that one day the angel will come to me – I believe her. The angel of music met my mother so many years ago. She said it was the greatest experience of her life. He taught her music and brought her songs to life. Yet she never described her angel. The angel of music comes in many different forms and I will know when the angel is there.
I stared out the window of the new automobile. It has been many years since my mother's death. But I would always remember her stories. They were always about adventure, romance and good versus evil. But my favorite story was about the angel of music. After my mother died, I lost my desire to sing. I have always believed it was my fault she died. Even though everyone tells me it wasn't, it was just her time to go. I never believed it. It was my fault that we went back into the theatre. It was my fault for going backstage. Yet it was my most memorable moment. I can still remember everything that happened to the smallest detail in the Opera Populaire.
I was eight when my mother and I adventure into the theatre. We walked into the spacious entrance – hand and hand. My mother the definition for beauty wore an old tan dress with black lacings to only make it stunning. Her hair was neatly tied back as a few ringlets fell upon her pale white face. The sweet fragrance of roses came from my mother's unremarkable and unforgettable perfume. She tugged on my hand to continue on my tour.
"This is where your father and I danced." She said as we climbed up each step.
"Really?!" I said enthusiastically – yet naïve behind the truth at the time.
The hand rails filled with old dust and cobwebs - connecting to the pillar. Slowly, my mother opened the doors to the auditorium. The doors creaked opened leaving a blanket of dust fall upon us. I closed my eyes – I didn't want my eyes to be blinded.
"Look my child." Her blissfully voice said.
The moment I open my eyes, I never knew how much impact it would have on me. I was only a child at the time and I couldn't figure out the right words to describe the next image. But as they opened to see the world of music, I only thought 'fire cannot destroy something so beautifully done'. A few of the seats burned and scorched leaving the once red velvet chairs into black ashes. In the middle of the seating area lied a beautiful yet broken chandelier. Pieces of glass scattered around ground zero. On the stage were the remains of the last act that was ever performed her. My mother continued the tour towards the stage.
"This is where the hundreds of people watched me perform my songs and my ballet, including your father." She continued as my personal tour guide.
"So this is where you started mommy!" I said cheerfully staring up at her.
"Yes, Belle. This where it all began." She smiled down on me.
We climbed onto the old stage – that was covered in ashes and dust. I turned towards the center of the stage. The center, where the famous sopranos would stand and sing, is where it began. My mother's first song and her last were all done there. I slipped from my mother's hands to stand there – in the same exact spot. I stared out into the audience. At that time, I never knew about the events that took place here. I was never told the secrets that lied behind the stage. But the child's mind is so innocent and fragile. That is why when you raise children be careful what you expose them too. Well I was exposed - exposed to this life of my mother's. My eyes blinked once or twice to capture all of the surroundings. I fell backwards onto my butt, overwhelmed by everything. My mother knelt down behind me, placing her fingers through my hair.
"Mommy," I paused waiting for her. "Were you ever afraid?"
My mother stopped brushing my hair. It was an easy question to answer but for her, it wasn't. She didn't say anything, she didn't know want to say. I didn't know at the time what I unlocked in my mother's mind.
"Mommy?" I said as I turned towards her. "Were you ever afraid to sing in public?"
She stood there staring into her mind. The child thought she was thinking about the question. Now older, I now know what she was thinking about. She was thinking of the past - haunted, tormented, torn. She had memories of the murders and the last frightful night here. Here where she met the man who changed her life, the Opera Ghost. I stood up in front of my bewildered mother. I touched her cold white face. Her brown eyes stared at me coldly.
"Mommy, what song do you want me to sing?" I said gently.
My mother blinked a couple of times – snapping out of her memories. She smiled with her bright eyes. Music always made her happy.
"Oh my beauty, whatever your little heart desires." She said softly.
"I want to sing a song with you." I smiled.
"Alright how about, Think of Me. The very first song I sang here." She smiled back to me.
"Alright." I said cheerfully.
My mother began to sing the song, I joined her. As we sang together it felt like her voice rained on top of the dirt, ashes, and dust and wiped them clean. The theatre felt like it was coming alive. Going back in time when the opera first started. The audience was quietly listening, the band played, the stage hands slowly moving props behind us. The only voices heard were a retired lead soprano's young and strong voice and a child's shaking yet relaxed voice. I was happy, happy to sing with my mother. I knew she was also happy to have me there with her, to sing. Then during the instrumental part she picked me up and danced with me around in circles. We laughed with each other humming the instrumental part. Then when the part came up my mother took over. I was lucky to have my mother or the matter is to have her as my mother. I loved her very much.
"Alright Belle, your turn." She said still holding me up.
"No mommy, you do it. You're better." I wrapped my arms around her neck.
"Belle try it for mommy." She said as she put me down.
I didn't know it at the time. But she was teaching me a lesson. I turned towards the audience and began to whimper. I was nervous. Even though there was no one in the audience, I couldn't bring my voice to do it.
"Belle, it comes from your heart. Just close your eyes and you will find your song." My mother whispered to me from behind.
I closed my eyes. All there was was darkness. I began to relax a bit more. Then somewhere deep within I heard the song we were singing. Different colors popped in my mind. It danced with the music more. Then out of nowhere a voice started to sing. I opened my eyes to find out it was me. I was singing out in the open without my mother. I repeated the same words my mother sung. It was exciting - I felt like I belonged on the stage like mother did. When you're on stage singing, your mind becomes clearer. I knew I wanted to be a singer. The singer that puts real emotion into a song to make the audience feel different tensions - I wanted that. As I said my few last words – I gave it all I got. But I couldn't get my voice that low as my mother's. My mother clapped for me. I stood there still in shock.
"See you did it!" My mom said proudly.
I turned around to see my mother staring at me. As I stepped towards her something fell in the seating area. It made a loud noise making our head turn. Then I heard a noise behind the stage curtains. As my mother looked among the shadows in the box seats, I scurried towards backstage. There were props of different colors and shapes. But I had a clear path in front of me. I was very curious when I was little. I guess that is sometimes why I would get into trouble with my father. He said I was like my mother – too much like her. As I got closer towards the shadows ahead of me music started to play. I stopped to listen to the music. It was something new, something I never heard before. Then a voice came from the shadows. It was beautiful. The voice was sturdy yet relaxing. I was drawn to the voice ever so more. Just even thinking about it gives me goosebumps today. The voice started to call out towards me. I stopped in my tracks. I didn't know if I should go any further. Then a white mask appeared through the shadows. I looked up at the half faced man.
"Hello my child." He said to me.
"Hi." I said feverishly "Was that you singing?"
"Yes that was. Did you like it?" he said as he knelt down.
"Oh very much so. Are you the angel of music?" I asked.
He chuckled, leaving me unanswered. I stood there. Wondering who he was, and why he has a mask.
"Belle, where are you?" my mother said concerned as she turned the corner. "Belle!"
My mother ran up to me to kneel next to me. She turned me around placing her hands all over me. I guess she was making sure I was alright.
"You might want to keep an eye on her. Who know what might fall on her." The man said.
My mother looked up at the man in the mask. She smiled at him.
"Mommy, he can sing. I like his voice." I told her as I pointed at him.
"Does he really?" she said as she stood up holding my hand.
"Yes mommy. Mister sing for my mommy so she can hear your voice." I said as he stood up to.
"I would love to but it is up to your mother." He smiled.
I looked up at my mother but she gazed at the man and the man gazed at her. My request to the man was unforgivable. I didn't know that is was going to only end in misery and pain. But I was only young and naïve. It was the same man she fell in love with a long time ago. It was the same man in the triangle. I sparked the fuse.
"I…I can't, I'm sorry." She said as she picked me up of the floor.
"Maybe another time, Christine. It is has been a long time."
"I know it has been." She gently said.
"I have missed you. The opera has missed you."
"And I have missed the opera." She quickly said.
"It was nice to hear your voice in this dark and damp hole. It was especially nice to meet your beautiful daughter. She looks just like you when you were younger." He said as he reached out towards me.
My mother moved backward. I didn't understand the conservation they were having. But I was upset not to hear him sing. I was extra confused when my mother stepped backward holding me tighter.
"I have to go you see…" my mother was cut-off.
"It is alright, I understand. Goodbye, my Christine and Belle." He said as he disappeared into the shadows.
I didn't understand why the man cut off my mother, but I now know why. He didn't want to hear about my father. He was happy just seeing her. We left the theatre quickly and quietly that day. I never forgot that childhood memory. From after that night I heard my father tell my brother to keep me away from the Phantom of the Opera. My mother died a year later. The doctors said she died of old age. But I knew it was my fault as I said earlier. I knew she died of a broken heart. She broke the phantom's heart again and I bet she couldn't take it this time.
"Belle…Belle!! Wake up!! We are here." My brother shook me.
I woke up from flashback. The automobile stopped in front of the building. I opened the door jumping out. My brother took my hand and walked me to the steps. I looked up at the banner AUCTION. My brother tugged me inside. I was back after 10 years. I was back in the opera house. I was back to the Phantom's lair.
