Just a note, I am adding some singing into my story. Most of the tunes will be to actual songs in the movie. Singing will be in bold.
DISCLAMER: I do not own The Phantom of the Opera or its music or words or actors, though I wish I owned Gerard Butler's voice. (I guess that's what the CD's for)
Chapter 3:
"Meg, wake up!" it was my mother coaxing me out of bed. I rubbed my forehead and turned around on the bed. She continued, "Get up this instant!" I got up and walked over to my bowl of nice cold water. The cold shock of the water flung into my face was refreshing.
"Sorry," I told my mother getting dressed into breaches and a shirt. How late was I up? All I remember was sitting on the floor crying. And the music box, it broke. I looked around the room, but it was nowhere to be seen.
"Were you up very late, daughter?" my mother coolly added folding my bed linens neatly.
"I couldn't sleep," it was the only response I could give. I couldn't let my mother know that I had been visited by the Phantom; she would not like that at all. "What would you say if I started taking singing lessons? I know its kind of sudden, and that I'm really a dancer, but I like to sing."
"With whom, may I ask, is this lesson going to take place?" She was probing; I hated it when she did that. Not only was she my mother, but she was the primary caretaker of the Opera House. If she didn't know something, she would find a way to know about it. I answered, "I don't know his name."
"And this nameless man offered to teach you how to sing? I find that hard to believe."
" Well, when I find out his name I will tell you, I don't even think that he is coming today." She looked at me and smirked. I hate that smirk. Then she left. Breathing easier I turned around and jumped at the sight of the Phantom of the Opera. "Haven't you ever heard of knocking?" I asked rolling my eyes. I passed around him as if he wasn't there. He stood there, silent. "Well, aren't you going to say something?"
"You have quite a temper." He said monotonously.
"I have a temper!"
"Emotion is good while singing, you must feel the music that you are vocalizing." He looked at me and I sat down on my red chair as if in a trance. He spoke again, "Christine had emotion that drived her singing, fear. Fear of singing in front of an audience, fear of acceptance, and ultimately the fear of me."
"She was fairly scared of you, many a times she would seek shelter in my room and talk. Even before she knew that her angel was a phantom menace she was frightened, yet she enjoyed your voice. Poor Christine, after her father died and she came to live with us she was scared."
"Twas her frailty that made her taken by my magic and voice. She was yet strong which gave her and I courage in the end." He looked down. His eyes were sad and yet comforted.
"Angel that sung in Christine's dreams
Teach me, your new student
Angel of music, you were never
Teach me O dark Phantom"
I looked up and he was gone, again.
