Chapter 4 – Haunting Memories
[A little take on our dear Phantom. Enjoy!]
The Phantom of the Opera. A name bestowed upon a legend, a ghost of mystery, a man of madness.
The title suited him fairly well. He always concealed himself within the shadows of the world, but somehow his name spread far and wide. His fearsome role dominated Paris' society. Gossip always circulated about the new production at the Paris Opera House, and he made sure that his audience were captivated by the words he bled over for hours.
He always wanted the audience leaving for more, which was a skill he had mastered for years as a composer. It not only brought attention to his beloved operas, but brought wealth as well. He knew he was too bold to do something such as buying the Opera House altogether, but he was glad that the architecture has not failed him yet.
It was strange to have such a benefactor buying the opera house, but the singers and dancers did not question it. His instructions were precise and direct, making sure that he was the one who had control over the opera house. He always had to have an iron grip on anything he possessed, especially the one thing that causes him happiness in the world.
The ensemble should have been blessed to have a genius allowing them success, but all that came out of the unknown owner was a name.
It started as a mindless joke passed among the ballet dancers, but it soon escalated into something greater. It was rare to not hear The Phantom's name in casual conversations. Paris was a city moving forward. New styles graced women's bodies, and men enjoyed simpler things in life. Someone, or something that did not venture out into this new era was a fool. The Phantom made sure that no one ever saw his face, which is why he caused quite a stir in society.
There was a reason for his isolation.
Erik knew he could not partake in the many wonders of life, for he was placed with a burden. No. A curse that spat upon him and mocked him.
Monster. Freak. Corpse.
Names that came with his curse. It was hard for him to not forget his true name, a human name, rather than branding him with demonic titles.
He was not sure how he prevailed through his prison physically and mentally. He knew that he was not going to let others step on him any longer. Developing a gruesome attitude towards the world, his anger expanded to a frightening level. Blood stained his hands, and he was no cower to that fact. Erik was ready to face the world through a different tactic. He was always an intelligent man, but as a child, he was naïve, but he broke away from that horrid child and emerged an obsessive man.
He would have gone insane in this world, always planning their demise, but something had saved his god-forsaken soul: music.
He always devoured literature as a child, back within his household when his Mother let him enjoy a few pleasures in life, and he came across a book on opera. His Mother never provided him any sort of instrument, or let him leave the house to even attend an opera. Erik amused himself by creating devices that would intrigue any inventor, but music, was something that caught him by surprise.
A musical score was provided as an example in the opera book. He was perplexed by the notes, and longed to know what they sounded like.
He never asked much from his Mother, but a piano would suffice his curiosity. She allowed it, but threatened to take it away if she heard sour notes; she did not want to tolerate any more ugliness in her home.
He was hesitant as he stood before the piano.
Not sure how to approach it, he extended his arm outwards and pressed an ivory key. He stopped. The simple note echoed, embedding it in his mind and soul. His eyes widened at the thought of being able to combine other notes to create something magnificent. It took him an hour at most to make the keys dance before his fingers, begging him to touch them. Even his Mother came in at one point and commented on what a fast learner he was; this is where the obsession began.
He would spend days in and out, learning to read sheet music and directing his own self to provide a musical serenade.
His Mother took some pride in her son's work as she provided more books for him, letting his soul consume the sheet music before him. She would often listen to his music from her own room, but never granted her son an audience. It was another distraction for him to have, and another activity to keep him away from her.
Erik could not stop his fingers, and even began to form his own melodies. Words came fourth now and then, and he would eagerly write it down on some parchment. He would often say the words in his mind, but one afternoon, a few words came from his mouth, but managed to match the piano's notes.
He was stunned to even hear such a voice.
Singing would never have been something he would want to do, but it added to the enchantment of the piano, and he yearned to create the beauty of music through his songs. He was bewildered at first, but let his natural talent shine through.
This is where his Mother had to put her foot down.
An abomination such as her son could not have such an angelic voice! She tried to push the fact that he could have been a musical genius with his piano skills, but his voice was too much for her to handle. She knew no good could from the child, and she knew he was a devil, masquerading as an angel, trying to reach that point through his music.
The emotions that formed within her were forbidden.
He had to be manipulating her mind! She burst into his room, never even stepping foot into his sanctuary before that moment. She was furious and praying for her own soul, and condemning him to Hell. Erik was still so young and vulnerable, and watched as his Mother began to tear apart his beloved sheet music, and take any papers she could find.
Left alone in his room, he felt as if the world finally closed in on him, as if he opened his eyes for the first time. His mind ran on music alone, and his Mother could no longer be of service to him. He tried to make her happy, trying to make her see past his face, but it seemed to backfire.
It took all the courage he could seek within him as he finally fled from his prison.
He often regrets leaving his Mother, leaving the safety of his room. It was not long for him to be captured by a traveling gypsy caravan, and forced to put his face on display. His Mother never allowed mirrors in his house, always afraid of the reflection she would see. She did her best to avoid him, but made sure that Erik knew of his curse. He always brushed the thought aside, not realizing how truly gruesome his face was.
Mirrors taunted him by crowds of people. Their image of him could be foreseen through their horrified glances. Laughter often crept in here and there, along with some rotten food. He was allowed the liberty of having a potato bag to be placed over his head every so often, that is, if the leader of the gypsies did not take it away from him and replace it with a whip. It always added amusement to the crowd to have the boy flogged, giving him a step closer to Hell.
No more. The suffering needed to stop, and Erik was numb for too long. A spare rope was in his reach, and his knowledge of rope tying came to his rescue. A Punjab lasso was created, and hidden among the straw that served as his bed in his cage. All it took was the gypsy to have his pride hurt when Erik jeered at him with questionable comments. The man's face flashed crimson as he grabbed a hold of the whip, threatening the boy to stop or he would make sure that he would become a real corpse. Erik stood his ground as he jumped on the gypsy, strapping his secret weapon around his neck.
One swift movement, and the man's neck was snapped.
Murderer was now a name to be added to his never ending list of damnation. He was quick to leave his cage and to wander into the twilight, leaving the gypsy caravan to mourn over their leader and search for the killer.
He was just a lad, and could not be able to survive on his own. His feet did little for him as he was brought to the streets of Paris.
Confused and frightened, he crept between the shadows of allies, until a beacon of illumination drew his lost soul to its path. The Paris Opera House. Majestic golden angel statues dominated the Gothic architecture. Their arms outstretched, longing for him to be embraced by their welcoming arms.
He was in a trance instantly as he heard music drift into the streets. Passing couples did not even glance in its direction, which irritated for him, for they could not understand true beauty that is allowed in this world.
The boy made sure that wandering eyes did not make his way as he came closer and closer to everlasting allure of the Paris Opera House.
He was slightly blinded by the bright illumination that made up the foyer. Taking a few hesitant steps, ever so carefully, he let his weary body float when making contact with the stairs. He knew that his ugliness should not tarnish the elegance of the opera house, but the music that continued to sweep over him was too much. Music had no gender, and no physicality. All were welcomed to be part of its majesty, even if it was a demon yearning for a chance of heaven.
The theater could have easily seated hundreds upon hundreds of people, but that did not matter to him at the moment. Upon the glowing stage, chorus girls held position as ballet dancers commenced, using the ensemble as their rhythm, and letting the grace of the music be formed through the human body.
Erik was astounded to see such an act, and felt blessed to even have his eyes casted upon the glory of opera.
Of course, there were a few sour notes here and there, but he was a perfectionist, and could not help but notice. He did not allow that little moment to ruin the joy he felt. It was hard to describe the emotion, but for once in his life, he felt right. He knew this was his purpose in life. Composing music, and letting others show the true potential of his abilities.
The chorus members and orchestra slowly slipped from his sight as a few ballet dancers now graced the stage, even their costumes left him breathless! He craved for more. This opera house had everything he wanted, and prayed that they would allow his presence to be joined within the lifestyle.
Erik continued to let the dimming lights conceal himself. Just as everyone left for their dormitories, he did the unthinkable.
His feet moved with such haste, that he was out of breath as he stood on the opera's stage. His eyes had adjusted to darkness over the years, and did not miss the details that surrounded him. He let his fingers gingerly touch the velvet curtain. He touched anything his hands could get on. His eyes, never seemed to stop moving, but they stopped abruptly as he noticed a figure moving towards him.
Golden orbs pierced through her. It had to be some creature stalking the stage, for no human could have such powerful eyes.
Antoinette gazed through the darkness, following the alluring hue that begged for her to acknowledge them. Erik was taken aback to stare right at a ballet dancer. She seemed much older than he, perhaps, seven or so years. He was reluctant to approach her, but she took the first steps that would soon become a flourishing friendship.
Antoinette felt pity for the boy, and did her best to hide him within the hidden catacombs of the opera house. Mostly used for storage, Erik somehow made a suitable home for himself, and used it as a sort of playground.
Antoinette would visit at least twice a day to provide a meal, and a few encouraging words. She brought clothing, and treated him well. She admits to being frightened of his scarred face, but her Mother taught her well. She was told to always see beyond someone, and to rebel against the image statements established in Parisian society; she was quite a free spirit.
The young boy listened to the operas throughout each season, continuing to heighten his knowledge of opera. A piano was not easy to come by, but a remarkable discovery caused him to almost reveal himself.
A grand organ.
It matched a piano in some sense, but pipes came out of the instrument. Dust covered the organ, and the wood was beginning to splinter, but it did not stop him. He had to make sure that all was silent in the theater, and that the ballet dancers went off to dream.
This was the time where his soul can be awakened.
The organ vibrations shook the walls around him as he played. His hidden room had a beautiful echoing range, and often stayed in the room, not traveling up to the surface. However, a few notes here and there would serve as a sweet lullaby that casted the dancers to sleep, or caused them to shake within their beds.
The music was haunting as it reflected his tormented soul.
As Erik turned the tender age of twenty, Antoinette suffered a leg injury which left her career in the balance. She was the prima ballerina for the opera house, but they needed to let her go. It was a crushing moment for his dear friend. He knew she had the choice to leave him at the opera house to fend for himself, or to take him with her.
The young man did not wish to pry in her life any longer, but the ballerina did not shy away from the man as she invited him to another world where he would be able to play his music as long as he wanted.
Antoinette was married a fews years after, and settled in a simple apartment with her husband, Jules Giry. A flat was rented out to Erik where he was able to live on his own, but not too far from his friend who was beginning to start her own family. It was hard to not feel jealous, and he often hated himself for thinking such thoughts against Antoinette, but she had the ability to love someone...
Madame Giry could not watch over him anymore, and his obsession soon became his own priority in life.
He was not sure what caused him to travel to London, but he thought that he could be reborn anew there. Madame Giry's knowledge was limited on what exactly Erik did over in London, but she did not hear any news of a deformed man walking the streets. She would write a letter often, but hardly did she receive anything back. It was when grief shattered her soul that she would return to her lost friend.
Jules Giry passed from a strange illness, leaving Madame Giry with a young child, and no aid for the growing girl. She was forced to leave her home for so many years, and seeked shelter. She did not want to burden Erik, but he was all she had left in the world. It did her heart well to hear that he was willing to accept her and the child into his household.
She was surprised to see such a man before her, with a more frightening demeanor. A white porcelain mask etched the right side of his face, and the young boy she knew before, had become a man. A man unafraid to take the world into the palm of his hand, and manipulate it to his will.
[Thank you for the reviews once again!]
