1Disclaimer: None of the characters are mine. But I wish Erik was (tear).
A/N: I would like to say first that I know Christine is a bit out of character, but only for this chapter. She has an unusual amount of curiosity that I would like to keep. But really her personality is kept hidden in her mind. The Christine we all know and love (the Erik phans boo her off stage) is how she presents herself on the outside, at least in my story. Alright enough of my rambling. Enjoy and please review! Sorry its so short, the chapters will get longer I promise!
Meg was quite paranoid that day. I'm pretty sure she was spooked by the falling set at practice that morning.
"It's the Opera Ghost I know it." She had said, twirling a stray curl of blonde hair about her finger.
I had hardly known Meg at the time. In fact, I didn't know her at all. It was my first day at the Opera Populaire and I was to become one of the many pale, youthful faces in the chorus. So, when she had mentioned this "Opera Ghost" I was of course, very curious.
Meg led me down the labyrinth of hallways, stopping at a few doors and pointing out their uses.
"This is the costume room where the crabby wenches sew our costumes. I wouldn't go in there when they are working. They tend to throw thimbles." I giggled at this. She had a dry sense of humor, and I found it thoroughly amusing. We rounded a corner and saw the spectacle that was La Carlotta. She was ranting and raving about that morning's incident.
"I will notta accept this!" She said in her thick Italian accent.
"Falling sets! I just can't tek' this anymo'! " And with that she stormed off down the hallway, cursing and ranting.
Meg walked to the door that Carlotta had been standing nearby at. "This is the Prima Donna dressing room." She said, gesturing with a lazy wave towards the door. I looked inside seeing a full length mirror on the wall opposite of me. I looked at my hair, a bit frizzy and out of sorts.
"They say that there is a secret door in there that leads you straight to the Opera Ghost, to his secret lair." Meg said fearfully and in a hushed tone.
"Really?" I whispered in return, curiosity coming full blast into my restless mind.
"Uh-huh... Oh! I better show you to the living quarters before lunch. I'm starving. Then we can get you started on the dances for the next show." She turned around and hurried off in front of me, and I had no choice but to pursue her in fear of getting lost in the sea of gaudy costumes and decadent set pieces.
The day came and went, and by the time I had reached my little bed I was completely exhausted. Madame Giry had worked me so hard I felt my legs would fall off like lepers would. As I lay in bed I observed my frizzy brown curls, puling on them and letting go, watching them spring back into place. Being so tired, it was all but too fascinating. With boredom drowning me, my thoughts began to wander. I glanced around the room, laying my gaze on Meg. Then I remembered what she had said.
"It's the Opera Ghost I know it!' The Opera Ghost? He sounds like an interesting character, but he couldn't possibly be real. It's probably just some myth the stage hands had made up to frighten the young girls. They loved to hear them squeal in terror; drunken bastards. Still, the way Meg talked about it. It gave me the chills. Before the night was out I had resolved to finding out about this "Opera Ghost", and I would start my search tomorrow in the Prima Donnas dressing room, and with that I fell into the hands of unconsciousness.