The Belle of the Opera

by The Ballader

Christine steps out from behind the curtain, wearing her nightgown. "Do you remember what he called you?" I think for a moment, than look to Frederick. I hold him to my ear so he can tell me the answer. "Belle. And he called you Little Lotte." My sister nods. "And he never believed us when we told him about the Angel of Music"

4. Chapter 4

As the phantom plays, Christine stares at him and I gradually rise from my place in the sand. I make my way to the opposite side of the opera ghost and quickly become mesmerized by the way he is playing. Without realizing, I sit slowly on the bench next to my mysterious angel of music. He seems startled to say the least, and freezes in his playing. Than he stands and grabs my sister lightly by the arm. He starts to lead her towards some bookshelves which I myself can't help but be intrigued by. I love reading, but capturing my attention at the moment is the instrument in front of me. I reach out to touch it and accidentally press down on a few of the keys, causing a very loud, very unpleasant racket.

I quickly drop my hand and look behind me to find Christine looking down and the phantom looking at me, almost curiously. I stand up and hurry over to them, afraid of getting in trouble. I don't seem to be in trouble, however. I look at the books in awe and reach out to touch them but draw my hand back, afraid of causing more trouble. I look over both of the shelves and draw in a breath of excitement when I see my favorite book. I again reach for it and again drop my hand. The opera ghost walks over to me and grabs the book from the high shelf it was on. He dusts it off and presses it into my hands. I look up at him and he lays a hand gently on my head.

During our brief interaction, Christine has wandered back to the organ. She stands, flipping through the music on the stand. The phantom moves his hand to mine and we walk together to Christine. He sits down first, than gestures for me to do the same. He places a gloved hand on the keys but before he can play anything stands again. He steps in front of Christine as she falls, right into his arms. She fell asleep as she fell, tired from the gala and our adventure. Our Angel lays her gently in a giant bed and pulls a blanket over her. He returns to the bench next to me and lays his hands over the keys, not playing them.

"Your sister is sleeping," he whispers to me. I nod but keep my eyes on the keys. He notices. He notices that I am curious so he plays a soft quiet melody that looks easy and complicated at the same time. I have so many questions for this man, who he is, how he got here, why. But for now, I just watch his hands and listen to the music. It is only now I notice how tired I am. I open my mouth to ask the question weighting heaviest on my mind, but before I can, he answers it.

"My name is Erik." I almost smile at him.

"I am Beth, but some people call me Belle." And he nods.

"It means beautiful." And we don't talk anymore. My head falls onto his shoulder as I fall asleep.