disclaimer: I do not own the phantom of the opera (leroux, kay, or ALW's versions) or the character's or plots from LJ Smith's The Forbidden Game or the old soul theory from Soulmate. This was just a weird story plot i for some reason thought up and decided to do it. Thanks for reading it.
A Special thanks to Chelsea for being my beta reader, I am getting the currnt chapters edited and hopefully some new ones up soon. the first 3 chapters should be re postd tonight, and i will be working on my new chapter this week. I had a bit of writer's block, sorry about that.
Amongst the Shadows
chapter 1
The dressing room smelt of cinnamon sticks. About half a dozen cinnamon scented candles burnt peacefully around the vanity mirror, setting an exotic glow to Rebekah's features as she stared back at herself. She didn't need the candles really. The dressing room had electricity, but every night after the performance Rebekah felt more complete……more…herself…in the dull candle light.
In the mirror Rebekah saw an ordinary 20 year old young woman. Her curly blond locks fell halfway down her back. Her emerald green eyes looked like jewels sparkling with the flicker of the candle light. She still didn't know why she was cast as Christine Daae in the university's production of The Phantom of the Opera. Her friends had persuaded her to try out because they knew it was her favorite story, and they claimed her voice could pull it off marvelously. Rebekah was sure she wouldn't get it; all the modern versions featured a brunette Christine. She had become used to be typecast as she had in sixth grade when the only reason she got the lead in Alice in Wonderland was because she was the only blonde to try out for the part.
But when she went onto the stage four months earlier and belted out the words to "Angel of Music" with her friend Ashley, who wanted desperately the role of Meg (but still didn't get it), words could not describe how she felt. She felt as if the words she sang were her words. She felt as though she was Christine. She almost could have sworn to you right then and there that she had heard the Angel of Music and that he had taught her everything. And her voice, on that day, had surprised even herself. Rebekah knew she could sing, but she had never truly sang until that day on stage. The production manager had actually wept, and denied another the chance to audition. Rebekah was given the role on the spot.
The production was one week into it's month long run. Rebekah Lawley was the show's star, and even at that moment, while staring at herself in the mirror, she could barely believe it was at all real. She was a theatre major at Rosenfield University of California, but she never truly thought that the stage would feel so natural to her. She had always considered herself shy.
It was also this sense of utter disbelief that kept Rebekah sitting at her dressing room vanity an hour after the cast had left. All the cast members had keys to the auditorium, so it wasn't like anyone rushed anyone out or had to say behind. She simply did so because of what she witnessed the second night of the performance. She stared down at the single rose on her vanity. A long stemmed, half bloomed, blood red rose lay harmlessly on the polished wood surface. A black satin ribbon was tied around it. The same thing she had found there after every performance.
At first, she thought it was a romantic gesture from her boyfriend, Ryan. Rebekah knew that Ryan knew she loved the rose the Phantom, Erik, gave Christine in the movie adaptation of Andrew Lloyd Webbers play - the play that she was starring in. She thought this, until she thanked him for it and saw the confusion and jealousy in his eyes. If Ryan wasn't the one, who else could have access to her dressing room during the play itself? He was the only one she had told the security that she would allow back there. It all made very little sense.
Then the third night of the performance she stayed behind an hour or so like she had done this very night. She had lit her candles and just sat, taking in the night's performance. Ignoring the rose, trying not to become too intrigued by its presence. That was when she heard the voice. It sounded….elemental; like water running over rocks. Rebekah could never quite catch exactly what the voice was singing, but she knew it was very beautiful. She hadn't been able to discover where it was coming from. She had even resisted the urge to do anything but listen, until now. She was waiting to hear the voice again because tonight Rebekah was going to uncover its mysterious origin once and for all. Rebekah would find out whether or not it had anything to do with the rose as well.
As always the music started about an hour after the building was deserted.
Rebekah felt just like Christine as she turned around and looked at the full length mirror on the farthest wall of her dressing room. She felt almost ridiculous for considering that it may be a secret passage, but she took small steps towards the mirror anyway. Despite the way her heart beat rapidly in her chest, how her mind told her she was imagining it all, and that she was being incredibly dumb, Rebekah took the final step and was now standing a few inches from the mirror. Her hand slowly reached out to touch the smooth, cold surface of the glass. Her reflection looked frightened, possibly because she kind of thought she was losing her damn mind. Stories are not real, especially stories that were fictional and written in 1911. There was no possible way any of that could have happened, and no possible way that her favorite story book character was going to come out of this stupid mirror and take her to his underground lair to make beautiful music with him.
Rebekah laughed nervously. Her hand was tracing the outline of the mirror. The music was gathering momentum……
And then it happened.
Rebekah's hand touched a knot like spot on the upper section of the mirror near the corner, and the mirror slid open. Her mouth gapped wide and she felt herself pinch her own arm to make sure she wasn't just dreaming.
The singing was a little louder now, but Rebekah still couldn't understand a word of it. It made her more frustrated, and she briefly hesitated. Then before sense could tell her otherwise, she went back and picked up one of the cinnamon candles, and headed toward the ominous, cobweb strewn corridor that now stood dark and threateningly before her.
With a deep breath, Rebekah took a step into the passageway and nearly dropped the candle when she heard the mirror slide back into place behind her.
