All right people, if you don't review, I don't give you review brownies. And the review brownies are good. Calorie free and all.

If any of you out there have any objections to the way I am portraying Raoul, then stuff a sock in it. I don't wanna hear it.

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I own nothing. Nothing except the concept of mixing these two stories. I don't own the actual stories though. So stop suing me!

The Poltergeist of the Opera

Chapter 7

Many weeks later at the opera house, a masquerade ball was being thrown. A curtain concealed half the room and guests in the opera ball. The guests were wearing fancy dress a peacock, a lion, a dragon, Mephistopheles, a highwayman, a clown, knights, ladies, an executioner. Andre entered the room. He was dressed as a skeleton in an opera cape, mocking the Poltergeist. Almost immediately Firmin arrived after him. He too was dressed as a skeleton in an opera cape. The two saw each other and cautiously walked over, each fearing the worst.

"Firmin?" Andre asked fearfully.

"Andre?" Firmin replied.

After an awkward moment, they lifted their masks, and began speaking rapidly, slightly embarrassed at their displays of fear.

"Dear Andre, what a splendid party!" Firmin observed loudly.

"The prologue to a bright new year! This is quite a night, I'm impressed!" Andre said.

"Well, one does one's best . . ." Firmin said modestly.

They raised their glasses and toasted each other. "Here's to us!" they cried.

"I must say, all the same, that it's a shame that 'Phantom' fellow isn't here!" Firmin said brazenly. The alcohol in his system gave him a pleasant, invincible feeling.

The ball began; an eerie song began to play

Masquerade!
Paper faces on parade . . .
Masquerade! Hide your face, so the world will never find you!
Masquerade! Every face a different shade . . .
Masquerade! Look around there's another mask behind you!
Flash of mauve . . .
Splash of puce . . .
Fool and king . . .
Ghoul and goose . . .
Green and black . . .
Queen and priest . . .
Trace of rouge . . .
Face of beast . . .
Faces . . .
Take your turn, take a ride on the merry-go-round . . .
in an inhuman race . . .
Eye of gold . . .
True is false, who is who . . .?
Swirl of gown . . .
Ace of hearts . . .
Face of clown . . .
Faces . . .
Drink it in, drink it up, till you've drowned in the light . . .
in the sound . . .
Masquerade! Grinning yellows, spinning reds . . .
Masquerade! Take your fill - let the spectacle astound you!
Masquerade! Burning glances, turning heads . . .

Masquerade! Stop and stare at the sea of smiles around you!
Masquerade! Seething shadows breathing lies . . .
Masquerade! You can fool any friend who ever knew you!
Masquerade! Leering satyrs, peering eyes . . .
Masquerade! Run and hide - but a face will still pursue you!

Miss Shannon breathed deeply behind her mask. "What a night; what a crowd!"

"Makes you glad, makes you proud! All the crème de la crème!" Andre beamed.

"Watching us, like, watching them!" Claire muttered.

"And all our fears are in the past!" Miss Shannon thought triumphantly.

"Six whole, beautiful months of relief!" Firmin said, giggling.

"Of absolute, like, delight!" Claire said. "No more notes, no more anything from that horrible thing!"

"And we can breathe at last!" Miss Shannon said, stretching back happily.

"No more ghost!" Piangi said, hugging Claire.

"Here's a toast." Firmin said. "To life and health, a prosperous year, and here's to our new chandelier!" he said, giggling even more.

"And may its splendor never fade!" Claire and Piangi said at the same time.

They clinked their glasses and moved off, chattering happily. Raoul and Lydia emerge. She loudly admired her newest acquisition; engagement ring from Raoul, which she attached to a gold chain around her neck.

"Think of it! A secret engagement! Look - your future bride! Just think of it!" Lydia said happily. "I'll put it on a necklace and put it under my dress – Nobody will ever look there!"

Raoul scowled at Lydia's naivety, and asked in a whiney voice. "But why is it secret? What have we to hide?"

"Please, just let it go. Just please drop the subject, we've discussed it enough already . . ." Lydia said, aggravation clear in her voice.

"Lydia, you're free! Free to do my laundry and wash my feet!"

"Wait till the time is right," Lydia said unflappably.

"Yeah, and when will that be? It's an engagement, for god's sake, not a crime! Lydia, what are you afraid of?" Raoul asked angrily.

"…"

"Lydia . . ."

"Look, let's not fight. Please at least pretend to be understanding and caring. I know it's hard for you, as you've never had any practice, but at least pretend. For me." Lydia said. Her snub went sailing over Raoul's head.

Lydia started dancing with some other partners. But her first partner had on a mask that reminded her of the Poltergeist's mask. He held her hand hard enough to leave bruises.

And so it went on and on. Each of her partners looked a little bit more like the Poltergeist, and each were rougher with her than the previous. Finally, she was partnered with a man with long yellow hair, and a demonic mask. He did not say a word, just gripped her waist hard enough to make her gasp for air, peer down the front of her dress, and then spun her so fast that her head snapped back from the force.

The man trod on her dress, and she heard a small ripping noise. She gasped and tried to look around, but her partner twirled her forcefully

Lydia started crying softly, she was still in pain from all her other partners, this man was making her bruises worse, and now her neck ached horribly. She struggled weakly to get away, but he had a grip like a vise. He snapped her around once again, and her hair fell out of its bun, and framed her face, and large brown eyes.

Just then, Raoul broke through, and rescued Lydia. He clasped her tightly, trying to comfort her, but he only ended up aggravating her bruises. He swept her back into the dance. Lydia clung to him, dazed and frightened and sore.

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