" Once upon a time, in a far off land lived a young prince. The land that surrounded his castle was green and fertile. The prince though, was spoiled selfish and cold, even though he got everything he wanted. One winter night when the cold drew its freezing fingers upon the glass, a woman came to the castle asking for shelter from the storm. Her payment was a single rose. The prince at the sight of this haggard woman scoffed at the gift and sent her away. But the woman told him not to be deceived by what he saw before him, even so the prince still denied her a place to stay. At once her ugly appearance dissolved into a beautiful sorceress. The prince in terror, tried to ask for forgiveness but she had already seen that there was no love in his heart. She turned him into a beast, a monster, which everyone feared. Thus the prince hid himself away in his castle with only a magic mirror as a way for him to glimpse the world he once knew. All around his castle the land withered under the curse, and his subjects began leaving in search of better fortune, and when everyone had gone, the Beast cried out in despair. For his curse could only be broken by a true love kiss, which if not given before the last petal on the sorceress's red rose fell he would stay a beast forevermore. But as the years came and went the Beast slowly forgot about the outside world: for who could ever learn to love a beast?"
I read those words over and over again; my favorite part in a story that my father used to read me. I set the book down as the candle stub on my bedside table guttered. Blowing it out, I stared up into the cavernous ceiling of the Opera House. All around me the snoring and grunting of fellow ballet dancers made me smile, when I heard it. A whisper of someone walking in the rafters. I slid out of my bed, dressed in nothing more than a small boy's shirt and a pair of pants that I snitched from one of the operas a few months ago. I followed the sound out of the dorm onto the main stage where my footsteps echoed alarmingly. Suddenly the swishing noise stopped, as did I in the middle of the stage. A voice, male from what I could tell, slithered in my ear and told me to sing. I swiftly rubbed my ear, but the voice had relocated itself into my other ear.
" Sing." The voice was more forceful this time unhinging my vocal cords. An old Irish song that I had heard the stagehands sing issued forth in a squeaky soprano. The voice sighed and told me to stop.
Listen, before you start singing, take a deep breath to relax your vocal cords. Now try again" Once more, following his instruction, I let the song resume for about 30 seconds when he interrupted me again.
" No, no, no. Your pitch is all wrong. The notes you should hit flow like this." That was the first time I had heard such a voice. Tenor made true, but it could hit the notes as high as a soprano and low as a base. It sent tingles up and down my spine and I shuddered.
" Now sing it again. I tried to mimic the way he hit the notes and my voice rang throughout the opera house.
"Better. You still need work though. Is there a place where you can go so that no one will come and look for you?" I nodded and told him of the Opera chapel.
Yes, a good place for study such as ours. It has good acoustics and you will need that. Meet me there at 10 o'clock tomorrow night then shall begin your studies." And with that the voice was gone. I walked back to the dorm and got back into bed. But as I closed my eyes I heard his voice again; this time singing me to sleep.
