Inspired by: The Phantom of the Opera
Which was written By: Andrew Lloyd Webber
A brief continuation of the play (Without the music.)
Narration by: Christine Daaé's fictional daughter
My mother I didn't know until I was a young woman. As a tiny baby I was "stolen" and raised by the Angel of Music, more commonly known as the Phantom of the Opera. I went to sleep at nights to the sound of music, either my mother's voice or Erik's latest opera. Music soothed me and I learned to love it and to accept it at a very young age.
Although Erik was feared by many people because of what he hid under his mask, I had never thought to be scared of his scars and wounds that would never heal. I could not help him with that infection so I set to work on the wounds of his heart. I gave him compassion and love through music.
By the time I was two I had started to sing before I could talk and prior to my sixth birthday I had helped Erik write an opera. I was not allowed to think about life in the light nor did I ever dream of it. I sang of the night and wrote my own opera out of my love for it when I was ten. I was able to sing and write music in my mother's range before I was even remotely close to the age that she had been when she was hired by the opera. And on my eleventh birthday Erik told me the one thing that I had always dreamed of. I sang like my mother.
My dreams were suddenly filled with her voice and my imagination began to soar with the image that I had formed for her. I grew curious about her and asked many questions. One of which was her name. I had heard all about my mother and yet I had never known her name. The differences became false when I learned of it for it was my own. Christine Daaé. Late one night I heard Erik singing softly to himself and I sat up in bed. Wondering where my quill and blank sheets of music were I recorded the song in my mind. It was the song that spoke of our combined love of the night and for music.
A few days later I sang the song for him and quite slowly the tears started rolling down his cheeks coming until he was sobbing uncontrollably. I wrote down the notes and words in sheet music and kept it hidden. During this time I had written another opera and I wished to see my mother perform it. Erik had gone away for a few hours before to set down an opera for the "light dwellers" to perform. Weeks later we could hear the music that we had composed drifting down towards us from the stage above.
I gathered my courage and asked Erik if I could give my mother my opera that reflected my love for the night and my passion for music. He gave in only after much begging and poking and prodding. We planned the event to take place on a night when the theater was releasing a new opera that Erik had written months earlier. We sent them a letter. I didn't sign it.
Box 5 was not left open. I walked towards the only empty seat dressed in a black cape over a cranberry dress. Clutching my score that I had worked tirelessly on I calmly asked the occupants to move their seating arrangements to box 6. Reluctantly, a young couple agreed. Only a lone man remained in his seat staring at me in disbelief. As I motioned to Erik to come and sit next to me the man arose and dashed away.
The same moment a lady came on stage whom I thought that I had seen before. But I had remained beneath the stage all my life so I couldn't know- of course! She's my mother! Beside me Erik gasped. His eyes were wide with an emotion I had only seen when he looked at me. It couldn't be- but it was. Love. The same voice which had flowed through my lips; the same notes which I had composed came from my mothers voice. I could not help but start to sing in the same voice with the music that I had written and sang before.
My voice danced through the theater and I stood, still singing, my eyes fixed on my mother. Heads turned and people stared at me. We reached the interlude where the leading male was to come and sing a solo yet, he did not come out. Instead the entire theater looked to our box as Erik sang the music that he composed. The music swelled and the trio sang the duet, my mother and I rising above the notes and falling as one soprano without hesitation. The song ended and my mother fled the stage while Erik and I raced to her dressing room door. We got there just in time.
"Mother!" At last I spoke the word that I had longed to say for so many years. She stopped right at the door and turned. I met her gaze confidently as I walked towards her, slowly at first, then more quickly till I was running into her arms still grasping the opera that had sent us on this journey. "My child, my baby, my little girl! Oh my darling! How I have searched for you all these years!" My mother was hugging me with great love and stroking my hair as if she couldn't believe it. Maybe she couldn't believe it. Erik called me. I went willingly. My last glance saw my mother with tears running down her face silently standing with my opera in her arms. I did not mind. I had met my mother.
How did you all like that? It won the Mosaic writing contest so I guess it was a good thing to post......right? Reviews please!