Disclaimer: "The Phantom of the Opera" was written by Gaston Leroux.
Based on the musical "The Phantom of the Opera" by Andrew Lloyd Webber and
the book "Phantom" by Susan Kay this fan story is. (Ah, Yoda speak!) I
have no permission to use the characters and I am making no money out of
Leroux/ALW/Kay's work. Rightly or wrongly, I decided to give Carlotta a
past and let the Prima Donna have centre stage. Anything that appears in
'' is remembered dialogue by Carlotta or Erik.
She loves me!
I pull out of the kiss. Did she say she loves me?
"After thirty years you decided to tell me this?" I scream at her.
Enraged, I push her to the floor. She looks up as though she were a wounded animal. No, her tears will not distract me from my rage. Manipulative, cunning, horrible, little toad. Is it possible for her to be so insensitive and uncaring? What does she expect to gain from her little admission? How dare she come to my home, uninvited, and proceed to tell me that. that my heart was broken for no reason! If this were not my own home, I would walk out.
My eyes turn to the heavens. I cannot bear to look at her. If I look at her, I will do one of two things - forgive her or kill her. The latter is infinitely more likely. Never have I wanted to hurt a woman as much as I want to hurt her at this very moment. Does she know the hurt she caused? I would have worshipped her, cherished her, never let any harm befall her. She would never have known a moment of sadness in my care. Perhaps I had been a boy infatuated with a beautiful woman beyond his grasp but I truly believed I loved her. Curse you, Elisa. Curse you for having the folly to come back into my miserable existence. I try to tell myself that she is not the girl to whom I willingly gave my heart. No. She is nothing more than a toad. A toad. Yes, a toad!
"Erik. I." She stutters.
I look down. Damn you, Elisa! Do not look at me in that way. Do not think that you will win me over with wounded expressions. Your tears have no power over me. Save them for I am no longer a boy.
"Go. Leave me here."
"No." She stands as a look of sheer determination washes over her face. "I will not leave you here to suffer in silence. I will stay here, with you."
"Madame, you have two choices. You will leave now and leave alive or you will leave this place dead."
She folds her arms in defiance. If I had the strength in me to wring her wretched neck, I would. So sure of her own abilities is she, but I know that beneath that hardened exterior she is scared. When first I had spoken to her she put on a brave face, trying to hide her initial instinct that told her to flee. Then, as now, I had been a ghost. She was unaware that I was real person. All that she knew of me then was a voice.
I had been watching her perform from above the stage. Something fell from the beam on which I perched. The noise started her and my presence revealed.
'Who? Who's there?'
'An admirer.'
My voice filled with fear. The days of my distant admiration of Elisa were well and truly over. She should have run but she stayed not caring what sorts of danger she could have been risking.
'An admirer?' She echoed.
I lowered myself a little closer to the stage but remained shrouded in darkness. I watched her face intently. She seemed to smile at my confession as though no one had ever appreciated her or wanted to be in her company.
'Please, do not be frightened. I only wished to listen to you.'
'I do not like people spying on me.' She walked around the stage, lifting up curtains, looking out to the boxes, all in a vain effort to find me. 'Show yourself or are you a ghost?'
Though I knew she was a little angry with me, I could tell she found the situation deeply amusing. In all honesty, I think I sounded terrified easing any fears she had. Though I was as much at ease as she was, I could not overcome my fear of revealing myself. If I had, she would have fled without a backward glance.
'I am afraid I cannot.'
'Alas, you are a ghost and I shall have to run away for I am afraid of ghosts.'
'No, no, I am a living creature. Yet in a sense, I suppose I am ghost. Do not fear me, I shall not hurt you.'
'Do you have a name, Mr Ghost?'
'Erik.'
'Erik.' Again, she echoed my words. Never had anyone spoken my name with such wonder and in such a gentle tone, not even my own mother.
'Forgive me for asking but do you have a name?'
'Elisabetta. I prefer Elisa, though.'
'Elisa.' I echoed her name in the same fashion as had mine. Elisa.
I turn my back to the woman in my home. She should have remained a memory, a beautiful memory and nothing more. Oh God, why do you torment me? My body stiffens as I compose myself, pushing all thoughts of the past from my mind. This is no time to mourn the past.
"Carlotta or what ever you wish to call yourself, will you please leave now. Bodies are hard to dispose of without raising suspicion and your death would be of great inconvenience."
She stood but she did not leave. Her damned stubbornness, that from her years here in the opera house I had grown to find entertaining and even admirable, kept her in her place. Like a dog with a bone, I knew that she would not give in easily. I sighed. It was going to be a long night.
She loves me!
I pull out of the kiss. Did she say she loves me?
"After thirty years you decided to tell me this?" I scream at her.
Enraged, I push her to the floor. She looks up as though she were a wounded animal. No, her tears will not distract me from my rage. Manipulative, cunning, horrible, little toad. Is it possible for her to be so insensitive and uncaring? What does she expect to gain from her little admission? How dare she come to my home, uninvited, and proceed to tell me that. that my heart was broken for no reason! If this were not my own home, I would walk out.
My eyes turn to the heavens. I cannot bear to look at her. If I look at her, I will do one of two things - forgive her or kill her. The latter is infinitely more likely. Never have I wanted to hurt a woman as much as I want to hurt her at this very moment. Does she know the hurt she caused? I would have worshipped her, cherished her, never let any harm befall her. She would never have known a moment of sadness in my care. Perhaps I had been a boy infatuated with a beautiful woman beyond his grasp but I truly believed I loved her. Curse you, Elisa. Curse you for having the folly to come back into my miserable existence. I try to tell myself that she is not the girl to whom I willingly gave my heart. No. She is nothing more than a toad. A toad. Yes, a toad!
"Erik. I." She stutters.
I look down. Damn you, Elisa! Do not look at me in that way. Do not think that you will win me over with wounded expressions. Your tears have no power over me. Save them for I am no longer a boy.
"Go. Leave me here."
"No." She stands as a look of sheer determination washes over her face. "I will not leave you here to suffer in silence. I will stay here, with you."
"Madame, you have two choices. You will leave now and leave alive or you will leave this place dead."
She folds her arms in defiance. If I had the strength in me to wring her wretched neck, I would. So sure of her own abilities is she, but I know that beneath that hardened exterior she is scared. When first I had spoken to her she put on a brave face, trying to hide her initial instinct that told her to flee. Then, as now, I had been a ghost. She was unaware that I was real person. All that she knew of me then was a voice.
I had been watching her perform from above the stage. Something fell from the beam on which I perched. The noise started her and my presence revealed.
'Who? Who's there?'
'An admirer.'
My voice filled with fear. The days of my distant admiration of Elisa were well and truly over. She should have run but she stayed not caring what sorts of danger she could have been risking.
'An admirer?' She echoed.
I lowered myself a little closer to the stage but remained shrouded in darkness. I watched her face intently. She seemed to smile at my confession as though no one had ever appreciated her or wanted to be in her company.
'Please, do not be frightened. I only wished to listen to you.'
'I do not like people spying on me.' She walked around the stage, lifting up curtains, looking out to the boxes, all in a vain effort to find me. 'Show yourself or are you a ghost?'
Though I knew she was a little angry with me, I could tell she found the situation deeply amusing. In all honesty, I think I sounded terrified easing any fears she had. Though I was as much at ease as she was, I could not overcome my fear of revealing myself. If I had, she would have fled without a backward glance.
'I am afraid I cannot.'
'Alas, you are a ghost and I shall have to run away for I am afraid of ghosts.'
'No, no, I am a living creature. Yet in a sense, I suppose I am ghost. Do not fear me, I shall not hurt you.'
'Do you have a name, Mr Ghost?'
'Erik.'
'Erik.' Again, she echoed my words. Never had anyone spoken my name with such wonder and in such a gentle tone, not even my own mother.
'Forgive me for asking but do you have a name?'
'Elisabetta. I prefer Elisa, though.'
'Elisa.' I echoed her name in the same fashion as had mine. Elisa.
I turn my back to the woman in my home. She should have remained a memory, a beautiful memory and nothing more. Oh God, why do you torment me? My body stiffens as I compose myself, pushing all thoughts of the past from my mind. This is no time to mourn the past.
"Carlotta or what ever you wish to call yourself, will you please leave now. Bodies are hard to dispose of without raising suspicion and your death would be of great inconvenience."
She stood but she did not leave. Her damned stubbornness, that from her years here in the opera house I had grown to find entertaining and even admirable, kept her in her place. Like a dog with a bone, I knew that she would not give in easily. I sighed. It was going to be a long night.