Author's Note: I need feedback on this!! All comments are appreciated and welcome. ENJOY!!!
Disclaimer: Belongs to me! MMMWAAAHHHHAAHAAA!!! (The Phantom of the Opera © by Gaston Leroux)
1. L'ange de Musique (Angel of Music)
I paused, unsure of my senses. It rose, as if from a mist. Not much above a whisper-beautiful and hypnotic- a voice, like an angel's. Where was it coming from? It seemed to be coming from nowhere in particular, but everywhere. I rushed to the door and opened it. My dressing room was quite secluded from the others, but still I had to check. The further I moved away the further the voice seemed to get. Quickly, I rushed back to my room, feeling excited and a little scared. It's got to be him… L'ange de Musique! But as I entered the voice slowly faded, until it was silent. I stood for a moment transfixed, longing to hear that celestial voice again. Am I dreaming? I've been waiting so long… My eyes filled unexpectedly with tears. "Don't leave, please…Angel of Music don't go…"
Silence. I slumped into the nearest chair, tears falling freely. "I'm just a lowly chorus girl after all. Why would he waste his time on me?"
'Do not weep, my child. I'm still here. I will always be here.'
The voice whispered in my ear, soft and sensual. I shivered involuntarily. I pulled out a handkerchief and mopped up my face.
"Angel..." I stammered unable to hide the tremor in my voice. Knock. Knock. "Christine!!!"
Knock. Knock. Knock. Anger filled me as I rose quickly and opened the door. "Come on, Christine! You're going to be late!" It was Meg Giry. I stole a glance back, as if hoping for a sign of him. "I'll be out in just a minute," I replied, sounding more harsh then I intended. Her face fell and she looked at me, confused and hurt. "I'm sorry, Meg," I said instantly, guilt washing over me. "I was right in the middle of something really important and.. I ...just... I'm really sorry." "That's alright," she replied not moving her gaze off the floor. "Let me just grab something warm to wear and I'll be right out." She nodded her assent and I closed the door.
Lifting my cloak from a hook I draped it over my arm. Blowing out the lamp I looked back again at the mirror. "I'll be back..." I whispered quietly, a thrill of excitement running up my spine. "We must hurry, Christine," called Meg from the hallway. "…coming," I said, stepping out from behind the door, and just in case I locked it.
@~}----------
I stood nervously backstage waiting for my cue, my fingers twisting the folds of my peasant skirt. What if the angel hears me sing and decides he doesn't want to teach me? And if I do badly tonight… I shook my head trying to rid of the thoughts swimming around in my head. Why did I have to get nervous now of all times? "Nervous?" Meg whispered smiling. I nodded, " A lot." She squeezed my hand as we ran on, "It'll be over before you know it."
We ran gracefully onto the stage in a swirl of colors. Pique, pique, chasse, chasse, chasse, grand jéte... My body moved automatically through the steps. I did well, until the middle of the dance when my eyes fell on a young man sitting in one of the boxes. In that instant everything seemed to fade away. "Keep moving," someone hissed. I realized that I had fallen behind and quickly rejoined the others, but I couldn't keep my gaze off the man.
In a flash it was over and we were back. My heart fluttering strangely. Why is he here? Is it even him? Looking around I spotted Meg chatting with the others of the corps de ballet.
"Who was that man in the Count's box tonight?" I whispered hurriedly, pulling her into a quieter corner of the dressing room. "He is the Vicomte Raoul de Changy. Isn't he handsome? His brother is sweet on Sorelli you know." I smiled knowing how much she liked to gossip. All of a sudden she stopped and looked at me carefully. "Why?" I tried in vain to hide the blush that rose to my cheeks. "N..nothing. I was just a bit curious." She smiled at me sweetly. "Now, Meg don't get…" I began. "Don't worry I won't say anything... except that you're madly in love with the young handsome Vicomte," she interrupted before I could finish a glint of laughter in her eyes. "Meg!" I cried flicking the sash of my costume so it hit her lightly. "We both know that's not true." She shook her head in mock disappointment. "Christine, dear, of course we do, but they don't." I laughed at her theatrics and we joined the rest in the latest rumors about the "ghost".
@~}----------
I entered my dressing room, exhausted but happy. Will he remember me? I lit the lamp; on the table was a long-stemmed white rose. Hmm... I wonder who this is from... I thought and held it to my nose letting its fragrance calm my nerves. Again the voice began singing; it was sort of half singing and half whispering. I was entranced by it, hearing nothing but him. I sat in silent wonderment, but I must have fallen asleep because I dreamed.
My father stood before me, his face alight with joy and happiness. "Papa…" my voice echoed strangely. He smiled and beckoned to me. I walked forward. He pointed to a pool of water and I looked. I saw myself as a little girl sitting at my father's feet. "Little Lotte thought of everything and nothing. Her hair was golden as the sun's rays and her soul as clear and blue as her eyes. She wheedled her mother, was kind to her doll, took great care of her frock and her little red shoes and her fiddle, but most of all loved, when she went to sleep, to hear the Angel of Music..."*
A little girl tugs on his pant leg, and looks up at him with big blue eyes. "Daddy, have you ever heard him?" Her father shakes his head sadly, but his eyes brighten as he says, "You will hear him one day, my child! When I am in Heaven, I will send him to you!"*
The angel's voice continues…
to be continued…
A/N: So…what do ya think? Continue it…Yes? No?
* Taken from Gaston Leroux's The Phantom of the Opera.*