10/25/12 - Just quickly wanted to let you know that I did some minor editing of the first chapter, because I'm a fuss budget. But now, on with the show!

"Our story begins nearly thirty years ago, when Monsieur Garnier first began construction of the opera house. His dream of a palace of marble and gold, a temple to music and beauty, was almost instantly dashed with the discovery of groundwater under the building site.

"Patrons and investors alike grumbled about this turn of events: either the site of the opera house would have to be moved, or the building would have to be drastically scaled down in order to stand on the pitifully shallow foundation.

"Garnier, however, wouldn't allow it. He refused to move or to change the plans for any man. Luckily, he held an ace up his sleeve - he had the Gentleman."

Christine cocked her head. "The Gentleman?"

"The Gentleman," said the voice. "His true name was never known, though it was rumored that he was the illegitimate son of a Carpathian prince. What was known, however, was that he was a brilliant architect, craftsman, and great lover of opera.

"Garnier and the Gentleman spent many frantic days and sleepless nights plotting a solution. At last, the Gentleman, in a flash of light, was struck with inspiration - the opera house would have two foundations. The groundwater would be pooled together in a handcrafted lake between the two layers, and the opera house would stand until the end of time.

"When the time came to begin construction on the underground lake, the Gentleman became a constant presence at the building site. No little detail was overlooked - to the annoyance of some, to the amusement of others. Certainly he was an odd figure, tall and thin, dressed in the fine clothes of fashionable society, yet kneeling in the dirt with mortar plastered on his trousers as he patiently assisted with any little task. However, with his insight, intelligence, and sharp, ready wit, he soon gained the respect and friendship of many of the workers. In fact, the Gentleman struck up a very particular friendship with the head mason: they respected each other as true craftsman, and they often worked side by side, carefully laying the brickwork that would hold the water in place. The Gentleman had never been happier: a stroke of architectural genius, all for the glory of his beloved opera.

"All seemed to be going well - until tragedy struck."

Christine lifted her head, the dreamy expression fading from her eyes. "Tragedy?"

"The worst possible kind."

"What is that?" she whispered.

"He fell in love."

"What?"

"He fell in love. The mason, you see, had a beautiful daughter. Curling gold hair, skin like the finest porcelain, a smile to break a thousand hearts." The voice clicked his tongue. "She was also, unfortunately, an empty headed little simpleton, but mortal men don't always stop to consider these things."

"Did she love him back?"

"Ah. Well, the Gentleman was, of course, very charming and well to do. He was also very respected by her father. However, she was also being courted by her father's apprentice.

"The apprentice was a fine young chap. He had a handsome face, with thick blond hair and strong shoulders. He also held a promising future, being the heir apparent to her father's lucrative masonry business. Since he was being groomed as the mason's successor, he seemed the obvious choice for a husband. However, the girl was attracted to the Gentleman's higher status, and his presence as a somewhat notorious figure in fashionable society."

Christine frowned.

"But...but who did she love? One cannot make such a decision without love!"

The voice laughed dryly.

"My dear, dear Christine...this is precisely why you belong apart from this dirty, materialistic earthly coil. You value love, honestly and truly, when others would only use it as a tool for corruption. Your feelings do you honor."

Christine blushed heavily, and she hid her smile behind her hands.

The voice suddenly cleared his throat.

"To resume our story...the mason's daughter was finding her choice of suitors difficult. The devoted, stable, and traditional choice of the apprentice; or the slightly scandalous but more fashionable choice of the Gentleman. The apprentice would pick her flowers from the public gardens; the Gentleman would create clever trinket boxes from copper and brass. The apprentice would take her for walks along the building site; the Gentleman would hire a carriage for a tour of the Bois de Vincennes. It was exceedingly apparent to everyone involved that the Gentleman would win."

"The poor apprentice," whispered Christine.

"Hold your pity, Christine...we have not yet finished the tale."

...

"The apprentice was no fool, and he could see that his youth, good looks, and devotion were no match for the status and elegance of the Gentleman. He burned with jealously, hatred sizzling in his veins, until it finally poisoned his mind and his soul...and he planned for the murder of his rival."

Christine gasped. "No!"

"Oh, yes, my dear. It was a simple plan, really...he filched a handful of the daughter's perfumed writing paper, and, by carefully copying her handwriting from her previous love notes to him, he set his trap for the Gentleman. In the letter, the mason's daughter appeared to confess her feelings: I love you! I have always loved you! I shall not be happy until I'm laying in your arms...we must elope! Well, you can imagine the Gentleman's feelings - he was ecstatic! His lady love, the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, had agreed to be his bride!

"The note laid out all of the details: she would meet the Gentleman at the construction site at the stroke of midnight."

Christine's eyes were wide, her shoulders trembling. She was completely and utterly engrossed.

"The Gentleman was there at midnight. He waited patiently by the wall, delirious with joy in anticipation of his bride. Already he was planning their honeymoon - the Riviera? Perhaps Italy? He was lost in his happy day dreams...and that is what killed him."

"No!"

"Oh, yes. He was a clever man...had he been in full possession of his faculties, he should easily have heard the clodding footsteps of the apprentice. Yet, he was not. The apprentice approached from behind, step by step, the heavy thud of his workboots muffled in the dirt, until..."

Christine's mouth was open, her breath held in anticipation...

"Until the rope had been pulled tight across his neck."

Christine gasped.

"Yes...the apprentice had drawn a length of rope around the Gentleman's neck. The Gentleman struggled viciously, clawing at the cord circling his throat, but it was already too late! He was no match for the apprentice in sheer strength. He became light headed, his vision growing blurry and black, until in a final fit of suffocation he collapsed."

Christine was breathing heavily, her hands delicately trailing her own throat.

"So...so the Gentleman was strangled to death?"

"Ah-ah! Not quite, my dear...I am still not finished. The apprentice, of course, was nervous himself. He was only a simple workman, and he had never aspired to murder...so when the Gentleman fell, he was seized with panic! He must get out of there, he must hide the corpse! So he dragged the Gentleman's inert body to a small section of unfinished wall. Just a small section, nothing that he could not handle within the hour. He quickly shoved the unconscious man into the hole, not even bothering to check if he was dead."

Christine was biting the tips of her fingers. "And...and then?"

"And then...this wicked, abandoned man proceeded to build up the wall. Brick by brick, mortar upon mortar...he buried the Gentleman alive."

Christine went pale.

"The Gentleman had suffocated, but he had not died.

"When he woke, the first thing he noticed was a splitting headache. Ah! The constant sound of stones clicking and sliding about, it was enough to drive one mad! Then he opened his eyes...or had he? It seemed to make no difference...he was enveloped in complete and utter darkness! An icy bolt of fear shot through him. But wait! His bride! His bride was supposed to meet him! Where was she? He leapt from the ground, and instantly ran face first into the great stone blocks that made the wall.

He began beating against the bricks. Anything to break free from the smothering black silence! He wept, thinking of his love...where was she? Where had she gone? Was she trapped in the dark as well?

"His last rational thoughts were of his bride. The Gentleman soon perished, alone in the dark, driven beyond the brink of madness and despair."

Tears were falling freely from Christine's eyes.

"It's horrible...it's so horrible..."

"...I suppose it is," said the voice calmly.

"The poor man...to be driven mad, alone in the dark!"

"Yes, well," said the voice solemnly, "it is certainly not a fate I could wish on anyone. Yet you must remember, Christine...that was certainly not the end for the Gentleman! For upon the completion of the Opera Garnier, he found reason to stir from his ignominious grave. He had devoted the last of his life to its creation...now in death, he remains its guardian. No task is too small for the Ghost's interference...and if he does frighten others, it is only for the good of the Opera."

"Yet why does he stalk the cellars?" asked Christine.

"I think...you know the answer to that, my dear," he said gently.

"Yes," said Christine. "Of course. He is still searching for his bride."

"Precisely," said the voice.

For a brief moment, Christine was silent as she wiped the wet from her eyes.

"Tell me," she asked, "what happened to the girl?"

"Oh! She married the apprentice, of course."

"What!"

"But of course! The Gentleman had disappeared - he had obviously been unbalanced to begin with, especially since he had seen fit to reject her! She was perfectly happy to accept the attentions of the apprentice, and they married only a month later."

"That's horrible!" Christine growled, striking the floor with her fist. "Some women...some women are just...ridiculous!"

The voice had to stifle a laugh.

"It makes me furious!" Christine continued. "The injustice of it...and the way the ballet girls spread the most horrible lies about the Opera Ghost...how they tarnish him! He is not wicked! He was just cruelly and painfully hurt - "

"Now, Christine," the voice cut in sharply. "Do not be mislead. Remember that the Gentleman was driven mad before the end! He remains...well...a force to be reckoned with."

"You truly think he is dangerous, angel?"

"My dear, it is a fact."

Christine pursed her lips thoughtfully.

"And yet," said the voice in a whisper, "the Opera Ghost is not mindlessly evil. I cannot swear for the safety of others, but...I believe I can promise that he would never, ever do you harm."

Christine shivered.

"Now," said the voice, with that calm authoritarianism she always associated with him, "you must rest. It is already past eleven o' clock."

"I suppose you are right," said Christine, though her hesitation was evident in her voice.

The angel sighed.

"I already regret revealing this much to you, Christine. It is a grim tale...shall you ever get to sleep?"

She thought for a moment.

"I will, if..."

"If what?"

Her cheeks turned pink.

"I will if you sing for me."

So Christine, nestled on her small cot bed, drifted off to sleep on the gentle strains of her beloved angel's voice.

For full effect, this was the song I was thinking of when I wrote this chapter. It's the perfect eerie background music. watch?v=YVpl-RNzdE4&list=FLjMcUXjdyjzEfBgFVGAGYSw&index=1&feature=plpp_video