L’Opéra Populaire

by The Marvelous Mad Madam Mim

The story of a monster who wishes to be a man, a man who's really a monster, a girl who's still a child, a girl who never was a child, a woman who wishes to be loved, a woman who spurns love, and a shadow in the corner that fills them all with fear.

1. Prologue

Prologue

Lies and Half-Truths

I read the book and I am slightly disgusted. Leroux has lied to me, to all of Paris, to the world! He promised to tell our story, as best it could be told, and yet he has edited and revised, added and subtracted as he saw fit. That will not do. Not one bit.

And so it falls to me to right this record, as it really happened. The roles of Raoul and Christine are, for the most part, correct. But Firmin Richard and Armand Moncharmin are way off; Carlotta, Carolus, and Sorelli received no justice. And my dear sweet mother--well, her story is not even told.

I sit back and try to remember it all--the gossip, the squalor, the fear and the passion. All the world saw was the grandeur of it all. But how grand is obsession? How breath-taking is ill-fated love? And who envies unrequited passion?

It does not tell of the days spent in darkness, the long tedious hours of hard labor to produce one hour's worth of entertainment, painted with bright colors and covered in spangles, to be offered to the Parisian aristocracy like a delicious gumdrop. It does not tell what really happened to any of us--not I, not Christine, not Raoul nor Erik nor Carlotta.

No, it is all wrong. Gaston, oh Gaston, how could you betray us? The world will only believe what they read, they will not search for truth. How will they know it is a lie, a half-truth? The only ones left to remember are the Persian and I. The Persian is now half-mad, his memory fails. So the burden is mine and mine alone. The truth needs to be told, but truth is such a burden at times. It is so much easier to pretend that such things did not happen; that such people did not exist. I have no choice. As much as I hate to relive the memories, I must correct the stain that Leroux has set.

This is the story of a monster who wishes to be a man, a man who is really a monster, a girl who is still a child, a girl who never was a child, a woman who wishes to be loved, a woman who spurns love, and a shadow in the corner that fills them all with fear.

This is the true account of the Opera Populaire.