The Phantom's Manservant
Chapter Three
By
Ggunsailor
Hi guys! Well, here we are, Chapter Three! Wickedly laughs . Last night, I read my "Phantom Of the Opera" film companion (it has the original screenplay) while listening to the movie soundtrack (not the extended edition, thoughL). I can recreate the movie whenever I want to! When we last left our hero, he had just entered the position of cook's assistant, and met two girls who are essential to Phantom. On with the story!
Disclaimer: I don't own Phantom, but Jean and the story idea are mine (though I wished I owned Gerard Butler. Mmm…yummy!).
Note: Based on the movie, but a little bit of the book thrown in.
Feedback: PLEASE!
I soon fell into the busy and hectic life of an opera house. I had Louis, Meg and Christine to help me along the first couple of days. It was very enlightening, and for the time I spent with them, I gained my undying love for theatre, and the arts. I would sometimes stand on the catwalks back stage during a performance, and watch the actors and singers sing their hearts to the audience, more than once wishing I was down there, having an audience under the thrall of my voice.
I also gained distaste for several people. One was Joseph Buquet, the head scene-shifter. A rather seedy character, with a taste for wine and younger women, and very rude to some people, myself included. I found a peephole into the girl's dressing room, and I knew that he had made it, though I kept quiet about it.
Another…well, really, two people. One was Ubaldo Piangi, a puffed-up pigeon of a tenor. He had probably sounded wonderful during his younger years, but now, he was trying too hard.
Of course, I can't forget La Carlotta Giudicelli, the reigning diva, and Piangi's partner. To describe her voice as a rusty sword drawn out of a poorly-oiled sheath would be insulting, especially to the sword; it was worse than that. Plus, her attitude was always that she was better than everyone, and everyone else existed to serve her. Whenever the backstage held a party, one of the highlights was someone doing a Carlotta impression, complete with bosom. I became very good at these, along with a good Piangi.
And there was always Buquet doing his impression of the "Phantom of the Opera". Supposedly, there was a ghost of some sort, who always caused some scenery to drop, especially when Carlotta was onstage. Whenever a prop went missing, or a costume was ripped to shreds, the Phantom was always blamed.
Also supporting the rumors was, whenever he was displeased, he would send a letter to the manager, always in a black-rimmed envelope with the crimson wax seal of a grinning skull. For some strange reason, Madame Giry, the ballet mistress, and Meg's mother, seemed to be the go-between. I always dismissed the stories as nothing but rumors.
However, my mind was soon changed one day, in a series of life-changing events...
It was two weeks after New Year's Day. A rehearsal for one of Mozart's works (The Magic Flute, if I remember correctly) was underway, and Carlotta and Piangi both sounded terrible. Everyone winced each time Carlotta hit a high note, even Monsieur Reyer, the conductor.
I was standing, as usual, on the catwalks, watching the rehearsal. I was by myself, or so I thought, when I heard the rustling of clothing. I turned, and saw a figure in black, who seemed to be loosening a rope holding up a backdrop that Carlotta and Piangi were standing under! I watched in horror for a moment, and then ran toward him. "Hey!" I shouted.
The figure turned, and I saw the flash of a white mask. Then, he was gone. The backdrop began to sway precariously. "Look out!" I roared down below, and then I jumped.
I grabbed the rope, and felt myself plummeting down to the stage, the backdrop flying up past me as people screamed. Fortunately, it stopped, and I landed unfortunately on Piangi.
"You great oaf! Why you land on me?" He roared as he untangled himself from me. "You almost kill me! What's a matter with you?"
"What the hell's going on?" Lefevre yelled from his seat in the manager's box. I tried to answer while still holding onto the rope, which at the moment was keeping the backdrop from falling on people.
"It-falling-someone up there-loosened rope-can't hold it-HELP!"
I shouted as I struggled to hold it, my feet slipping out from under me as I tried to stand up.
"He's right!" Buquet called from his vantage point. "If he lets go, it's going to fall right on Carlotta and Piangi!" People gasped in shock.
"Well, get someone up there and tie it off!" Lefevre yelled as he began to run down to the stage from his seat. Immediately, two other stagehands, who'd been flirting with some chorus girls, raced to help Buquet. I kept hanging on until one of them shouted that I could let go, it was tied off.
I fell to the stage with a thud. Before I had time to catch my breath, I was swept up into a strong embrace, and my face was pressed into two huge breasts.
"Grazie, grazie! Oh, how can I ever thank you for saving my life! My hero! My savior!"
"Can't…breathe" I gasped as I tried to wriggle out. Finally, Piangi, a little jealous at the attention the prima donna was giving me, managed to pry me out, just in time to fall backward into Madame Giry. She led me to a seat and handed me a flask of brandy to calm my nerves. The others began to crowd around me, asking questions left and right.
"What happened?"
"Did you see who it was?"
"Look! He was holding onto the rope so tightly, his hands are
bleeding!"
"Get some bandages and water, someone!"
"Everyone please, give him some air!" Madame Giry said as she motioned for Meg and Christine to move everyone out of the way. Just then, Lefevre made his way toward me. He knelt down and asked me what happened.
"I saw a man, a man in black. He was loosening the rope. When I started towards him, I shouted at him. He must've heard me, because he turned."
"How did he disappear?"
"I don't know, it happened so fast. At the time, I was worried about the people below." Well, I wasn't really; at the time I would have gladly let it drop on those two. Hey, I'm a gentleman; I had to do something.
Lefevre sighed and ran his hand through his graying hair. "All right, then. Get those hands of yours treated. The rest of you, rehearsal will continue tomorrow." And he went off with grumbling and muttering that he wasn't paid enough.
We watched as he disappeared, an awkward silence following.
"You saw something else, didn't you?"
I looked up at the chorus girl who asked me. I sighed and nodded. "I did."
"What was it?" They all wanted to know. I didn't want to tell them, for I had shown scorn for all the stories about the ghost, but I had to.
"When he turned, I saw…a mask. A white mask covering the left half of his face."
There were gasps of astonishment. "Are you sure?" Meg asked.
"Well, I couldn't really tell, there wasn't enough light."
Buquet's unpleasant voice rang out as he climbed down from the catwalks. "That proves it then. The Phantom's real." I certainly thought so, but I kept up an appearance, and scoffed.
"Don't start, Buquet. It could've been someone else. Someone who might have a grudge against Carlotta, or Piangi. Hell, I would've done the same thing myself."
"Ah, yes. But only the Phantom could have known which rehearsal, which song and the right time to drop it." I had to admit; he was right.
He suddenly grabbed my chin, forcing me to look at him. I could smell the alcohol on his breath as he drew his face to mine.
"Are you scared?" I blinked.
"Why should I be?"
"Let's test this theory, then. Tonight, you sleep in the theater, and prove that you're not frightened of something you've said doesn't exist."
His tone was that of branding me a coward. I couldn't stand for that.
"All right, you have a deal."
Perhaps if I hadn't accepted Buquet's deal, if I hadn't…taken part in the tragic events, so many lives might've been spared. I close my eyes now, and I can see a shining glittering mass falling. I can hear people, men and women, screaming in terror, and I smell smoke and fear in the air.
But if I did not take part, I would not be here talking to you, Monsieur Leroux, telling you my story.
Forgive me, for sometimes my mind wanders.
Where was I?
Ah, yes. I had accepted Buquet's challenge. I suppose the reason I did was because I wanted to prove that I wasn't afraid of something I had said before wasn't real.
Oh, he was real, all right. I found out first hand.
I lay back on the pallet I had made out of a row of seats, and some cushions. In the dim lights of the remaining gas lamps, the chandelier seemed ghostly as the crystals twinkled eerily; the whole theater felt like it.
I looked at the stage. 'No one's there, maybe I could…' I got up and made my way over. As I climbed up, and went to center stage, I felt like a famous actor getting ready to perform. The theater would be packed just to see, to hear this wonderful performer.
I turned and setting my eyes on Box Five, the "Phantom's" box, I began to recite a scene from Hamlet, which I had committed to memory. Not only were operas performed here, but also plays, especially Shakespeare.
"To be, or not to be-that is the question.
Whether tis' nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles
And, by opposing, end them. To die, to sleep-
No more- and by a sleep we end the heartache."
"That's a good recitation."
I whirled around, almost falling on my ass. Christine stood there, wearing a grin that showed she'd been listening.
"You heard me?" I asked, feeling a blush spread across my face.
She laughed. "Long enough to know that you love Hamlet."
"Well, not just Hamlet. Shakespeare in general." That's true; I love Shakespeare, and several chunks of them I have memorized, and know by heart.
She smiled, her eyes shining with admiration as she walked over to me.
"Louis made up some food for you. I offered to give it to you." I accepted the basket with profuse thanks.
She asked "How did you memorize it so well? Not even our best actor has the elocution you have."
I smiled shyly. "Oh, I have a copy of it-my father's copy. It's in that flour sack over there." I motioned over to the sack near the edge of the stage. "I also have-let me think. Oh, yes! Romeo and Juliet, A Midsummer's Night Dream, Much Ado about Nothing, and the Sonnets."
"Goodness! I'm getting dizzy from hearing you mention it!" We both laughed. "And they're all your father's books?" she asked.
"Well, Romeo and Juliet is mine."
"Oh."
After the silence that followed, I asked "How did you come to be here, Christine? I mean, you've been here longer than I have."
"Well, Madame Giry knew my father; they performed here together."
"Knew your father?"
She looked up at me, and looked out sadly across the theater. "He died when I was seven. Consumption."
"Oh, I'm sorry. And your mother?"
"She passed away after I was born."
"Oh." I felt terrible asking her that. But I had to know.
"Well, aren't you lonely sometimes?"
"Sometimes. But I have Meg, Mme. Giry," she smiled mysteriously. ", and my Angel of Music." She said softly. (J
"What?" I wasn't sure I heard her right.
"Nothing, nothing. Well, I'd better go. Mme. Giry will have my head if I'm not in by curfew."
"Wait! Do you want me to escort you back?"
She giggled. "Gaston, I'm a big girl. I can take care of myself. No Opera Ghost can scare me." She turned and walked away stage left in the direction of the dormitories.
"Are you sure?"
She turned and grinned at me quoting "There are such things, Horatio." And with that, she was gone. I shook my head smiling. Apparently, I wasn't the only one who loved Shakespeare. I turned to go off, when the same feeling I had when I first came went over me; someone was watching.
"Who's there?" I asked trembling. I reached for my pocket knife, and then cursed when I remembered it had been stolen. The lights at the front of the stage suddenly went out, along with the remaining gas lamps, plunging the entire theater into darkness.
I steeled myself and shouted "If the Phantom is here, right now in this theater, come out! Why should I be afraid of someone who hides in the shadows like a coward?"
Silence. "Show yourself!" I yelled into the inky darkness. Still nothing.
Thump! 'What was that?'
I felt the hairs on the back of my neck prickle at the sound. That didn't sound like a sandbag thump; more like a pair of leather boots hitting a wood floor kind.
Through the darkness, I suddenly began to discern the shape of a man coming closer…and closer. Then, I heard a rich deep and cultured voice.
"Didn't your mother teach you not to poke your nose where it doesn't belong?"
Oh, no.
I felt terror welling up inside me as he drew nearer. Then, I saw them. His glowing eyes.
'Forget Buquet's challenge, time to run!' my conscience screamed at me. I turned and did just that, grabbing my flour sack of possessions. Of course, I should've remembered that it was dark, and that some people leave buckets out. I tripped and fell with a crash into the orchestra pit, promptly smacking my head against the railing. The last thing I saw was a face in a white mask.
Then, my world went black.
Wahoo! Boy, this chapter's long! I'll get Chapter 4 up soon! I swear!
I remain your obedient author,
Ggunsailor.
Finished 4/12/2005 9:09 PM