Burned Roses
A/N: As much as I love Gaston Leroux's Phantom of the Opera. This will be based from the events of the movie, because the book and movie are quite different. Anyway, a small summary:
Begins almost a century after the famous disaster. I have played around with a theory that the Phantom's curse was more of than marred features but almost one that he would be doomed to a life of darkness until willing to see the beauty of light. An American actress decides to buy the destroyed Opera House and rebuild it into a theater for current shows for personal reasons. She hires a small construction company to rebuild the opera house and with the awakening of the house comes the awakening of the Phantom who has been haunted for many decades.
Setting: Paris, 2003
Characters: Many original creations with the exception of the Phantom (Erik) and references to Meg, Madam Giry, Christine, Raoul, and those two bumbling managers!
Disclaimer: I do not own Phantom of the Opera. The book solely belongs to Gaston Leroux and the movie is credited to Warner Bros. Pictures with Odyssey Entertainment
and A Really Useful Films/Scion Films Production.
Maureen looked out the taxi window as the sights of downtown Paris passed her. Grinning greatly she watched tourists point and couples walking hand in hand to the famous sites. Coming to Paris had been a dream of hers for years. Her family lineage had gone back to Parisians starting with her great-grandmother and moving back. Another family trait was that of performance. She herself being a famous American theatrical actress as was her mother. Her grandfather was an Operatic singer and her great-grandmother and great-great-grandmother were both well known ballet dancers. Her great-grandmother was the reason she was here in the first place.
When Maureen was little, she would sit by her great-grandmother and listen to tales of the infamous Opera Populaire and the hauntings of the Phantom of the Opera. Maureen always loved her great-grandmothers tales and was heart broken when her great-grandmother told her of the famous disaster.
"So the Opera Populaw is really gone?" She asked sadly.
Meg Giry Touillasie nodded. "After performing Don Quixote he grabbed Christine and the two dropped below the stage, but not before dropping the chandelier and lighting the entire structure to flames. Within a night fifty years of dreams were destroyed young Maureen."
"Did you ever meet the Phantom?"
"No, I did see him on many occasions however."
The young Maureen leaned in closely and whispered into her great-grandmothers ear, "What did he look like?"
Meg brushed Maureen's long blonde hair away from her face, "Well the right side of his face was quite handsome. Dark hair and striking blue eyes. He had a strong jaw and chin, yes he would have been beautiful if it weren't for his other half."
At this Maureen drew her fists to her mouth. "What did the other have look like?"
Meg gave an involuntary shudder. "Almost skeletal like. His skin looked like it had been burned badly. The skin beneath his left eye hung in a bag and his lip was upturned. It was devastating. But you know Maureen, he had the most beautiful voice."
Maureen sighed, "What was he like?"
Meg thought for a moment, "Sad. There is no other way to describe him my love. Years of hatred shown toward him made him bitter and he was forced to live in solitude. He was heart broken when Christine deserted him too."
"What happened to him?"
Meg shrugged. "No one knows. We found his home, but there was no sign of him left behind. He vanished. Some say he died and some say he lived out his remaining days in the sewers. One thing is certain, his presence will never leave those families who had been touched by the Phantom." At that point her grandfather would walk in and shake his head.
"Telling those stories again mother?"
"Always Gregorie, always."
"Time for bed Maureen, it is late and your mother and father will be for you in the morning."
Not too long after Maureen had finally heard the tale of the Phantom, her great-grandmother passed. When Maureen met her sixteenth birthday, her grandfather passed too. A sudden jerk brought Maureen back to the present. "We are here Mademoiselle."
Maureen smiled gratefully. "Merci." She opened the door and pulled her bags from the trunk. She began to walk up the stairs and then stopped. She looked up at the building with desire. She would make the building magnificent again. She took a deep breath and smiled once more. Once she reached the entrance she noticed the door was open. Peering in inquisitively she called out, "Hello? Anyone here?"
"Mademoiselle Young?" A deep voice called out from inside.
"Yes?" She answered. A flurry of movements sounded as if he was coming to the doors. Suddenly a tall tanned man with blonde hair met her at the entrance.
"I'm Mark Hangleton. You called my company to rebuild?"
"Ah of course, of course. You aren't from France are you?"
"London actually. I moved to Paris a few years ago with my brother and his wife."
"Do you like it?"
He shrugged, "It's a beautiful city, perhaps that is why I am not so fond of it."
"I think its wonderful." She breathed. He laughed deeply.
"Most women do. Want a tour?"
Maureen nodded, "Please." The two spent the next two hours touring the building and by the end of the tour Maureen was even more excited.
"Why this place?" He asked at one point.
"This place means a lot to my family."
"No offense, but it looks like a piece of crap."
"Vision Hangleton, vision. I have huge dreams for this building. It was magnificent once, it will be again. Mark my words."
He laughed at her enthusiasm. "I am sure it will be Mademoiselle."
"Please call me Maureen, I have never been fond of formalities."
"Only if you call me Mark."
She winked at him, "Deal." She then yawned.
"You told my brother over the phone that you wanted us to go ahead and build you an apartment within the House while we restore the remainder of the building. Would you like me to show that to you now? You must be tired from your trip."
"That would be wonderful."
"This way." He then led her through a few halls. "We've gone ahead and restored the second floor in this wing, Sherman will be by tomorrow to finish installing the elevator, for now you'll have to use stairs."
"Fine with me." She replied. He led her up to the floor in which her apartment and all the offices would be located. At the end of the hall was her apartment and next door to it was her office. He opened the door.
"Here you are." He said, she nodded her thanks. "I'll finish up downstairs and then leave for the day. Tomorrow will be the entire crew and we'll be in the theater. Have a good evening Maureen."
"You too." Mark then left and Maureen pulled off her jacket and slipped it over a desk chair. Tomorrow she would have to go shopping. Walking through the room to the very back she found the bedroom and fell face first into the soft cushion of the mattress. It had been a long day.
As night descended over the house a man in a long coat walked to the entrance. Hatred burned within his eyes as he looked up at the building. Word had spread around the city that an American had bought the house and was restoring it into a common-day theater. The building that he had once thrived in now only held disturbing memories for him. Pulling his coat tighter around him, he walked around the building to the secret entrance. Opening the rusted door slightly, he slipped in and stumbled a bit down the steps. Cursing the dark depths, he moved his hand and the candles that lined the walls lit up. Marching further beneath the opera house voices of the past echoed off the walls. Christine's soprano, Raoul's desperate pleas to let her go, Christine's goodbye, and the song of the mob as they tried to find him. He laughed bitterly at their profound idiocy. I wish they had. They lived the lives they wanted to while I live as an immortal wretch.
He finally reached his lair and the stench of moss and fungus filled his nostrils. Broken glass littered the floor as he walked through the mirror that led to the exit. He looked up at his organ, once a beautiful instrument, now aged with brown. He pushed his hands into the pockets of his trousers and kicked at the dirt. Everything had been destroyed within a night. He had been forced to desert his home, his life, his work, and he had lost Christine. The sound of a hammer brought him out of his memories. A strong desire to return filled him and so he decided he would. With the renewal of the opera house came the renewal of him. He would once again hold the power and whomever had decided to rebuild would be at his mercy. He had lived in a century of isolation, it was time to write his music once again.
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