All right people. I own none of this. Nada. Not a thing. AND YES! I HAVE CHANGED HUGE CHUNKS OF "THE OPERA"! JUST TO TAILOR FIT IT ALL INTO MY STORY, LIKE NAMES AND SUCH!!! SO SUE ME!!!

I am also the wrong person to be writing this, as I have never even SEEN the movie The Phantom of the Opera. Yeah, don't get too mad, I would have to make changes anyways, these two stories' compatibility only extends so far . . . Anyways, hope you enjoy, and if you don't, don't flame too hard!

The Poltergeist of the Opera

Chapter 2

"A tour de force! No other way to describe it!" Andre cried jubilantly.

"What a relief ! Not a single refund!" Firmin said happily. "Andre, I think we've made quite a discovery in Miss Lydia!" he continued thoughtfully.

"Here we are, Mr. Raoul. Lydia's dressing room." Andre said.

"Gentlemen if you wouldn't mind. This is one visit I should prefer to make unaccompanied." Raoul said, winking. He took Firmin's champagne out of his hand.

"As you wish," Firmin said stiffly. Aside, to Andre, he said quietly, "They appear to have met before . . ."

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"Lydia Deetz, where is your scarf?" Raoul said mischievously.

"Excuse me sir?" Lydia asked warily.

"You can't have lost it. After all the trouble I took. I was just fourteen and soaked to the skin . . ." Raoul said softly

"Because you had run into the sea to fetch my scarf." Lydia finished. "Oh, Raoul. So it is you!

"Lydia!" he said happily, grinning like mad.

They embraced and laughed. She moved away and sat at her dressing table.

"Little Lotte let her mind wander . . ."

"You remember that, too . . ."

". . . Little Lotte thought: Am I fonder of dolls or of goblins,

of shoes or of riddles, or frocks.

Those picnics in the attic or of chocolates
Mother playing the violin, as we read to each other dark stories of the North . . . "
"No what I love best, Lotte said,
is when I'm asleep in my bed,
and the Angel of Music sings songs in my head!"

"Mother said, "When I'm in heaven, child, I will send the Angel of Music to you". Well, mother is gone, Raoul, and I have been visited by the Angel of Music." Lydia said seriously. She wanted to reconnect with her friend, and this was a matter of great importance to her.

"No, Raoul, the Angel of Music is very strict." Lydia gasped, feeling self-conscious.

"I shan't keep you up late!" he said cheerfully. "You must change. I must get my hat. Two minutes Little
Lotte."

Lydia's protests were ignored as he hurried out. "Raoul!" But he was gone. "Things have changed, Raoul," she whispered.

She heard the 'angels' voice, which seemed to come from behind her dresser.

"Idiot boy! Fruity, fashionable yuppie boy, sitting there in your glory and soaking it in without realizing what its worth! Stupid little spineless drip! This brave young suitor, sharing in MY triumph!"

"Angel! I hear you! Speak to me, don't go, I'm listening . . . stay by my side, guide me! My soul was weak – I'm sorry . . . enter at last, Master!"

"You're flattering me; you know I love it! You shall now see me, see why I hide in the shadows! Look at your mirror – That's me in there, the guy that isn't your reflection."

"Angel of Music! Guide and guardian! Oh, my mother must have sent you! Grant to me your glory! Please don't hide any more, I can't stand it! Come to me, strange angel..."

I am your Angel ..."

The mirror started shimmering and rippling. Lydia walked towards the glowing, shimmering glass. Meanwhile, Raoul returned. He heard the voices and is puzzled. He tried the door, but it was locked)

"Whose is that voice, who is that in there?" Raoul asked out loud.

Inside the room the mirror settled on reflecting a scene very different than Lydia's dressing room. Behind it, in an inferno of white light, stood the Poltergeist, wearing a mask that covered his entire face. He reached forward and took Lydia firmly, but not fiercely, by the wrist. His touch is cold, and Lydia gasps, her black hair tumbling down to her waist. He pulled her into the mirror.

At that exact moment, the dressing room suddenly unlocks and swings open, and Raoul entered to find the room empty.

"Lydia! Angel!" he cried desolately.