Disclaimer:
Yeah, PotO doesn't belong to me...you know how that goes.
Info:
Sooo...Onto chapter two. Heh, I didn't get any reveiws! Exept the one I gave myself..But that one doesn't count! Anyway, Enjoy! Once again, if there's any mistakes at all, inform me! Also, I'll say again, sorry it's so short, three is longer!
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Chapter II: That Voice, Who is He?
Denise scrambled around her room attempting, to pull on some shoes and clothes before she would be later than she already was. It had been three years since the dreadful accident. She was now living with a pianist from the Opera Populaire; Roland Tiquet. He was a widower and had no children of his own. She went to live with him about one and a half months after Anne Carine Collard had passed away. Marie Vernet had helped Denise settle in with him. Aside from living with the pianist, she was also training to be a ballerina, under Madame Giry. Mme. Giry was rather strict, and Denise was always late.
Denise hurried out without saying a word to Roland or having breakfast. She raced to the opera house as fast as she could, her hair flying carelessly in the wind. She had gone from being a once stuck-up six-year-old who had to have everything perfect, to a carefree nine-year-old. M. Tiquet was very kind to her and had helped her forget her worries. He was also teaching her to play the piano, but she hardly ever practiced. She would rather dance to the beautiful music that her guardian made.
As Denise entered the opera house, she hurridly ran to the stage where she was to meet Mme. Giry for lessons. Mme. Giry had already started and totally ignored Denise when she gave her usual "sorry". Denise ran to the back with her friend Elisabeth Boissel. Mme. Giry gave Denise a look that made her stomach churn. She was in trouble...again.
After the lesson and a rather long lecture about being on time thoughtfully given by Mme. Giry, Denise and Elisabeth sat in the rafters of the opera house overlooking the stage. They were having an apple and giggling with eachother over funny stories. They spoke of the lesson and pointed out the parts they enjoyed and those they didn't. Elisabeth stopped talking abruptly and pointed down at the stage. Christine DaaƩ had just appeared from a door and was standing on the stage with Mme. Giry and Meg Giry, Mme. Giry's daughter. Christine was about the same age as Denise, only a year or so apart, but Denise didn't know; she never cared to ask. Denise liked Christine, but she hardly ever talked to her.
Christine and the Giry family parted. Christine went to her dressing room; Meg and Mme. Giry left the building. Elisabeth stated, "We should leave too, huh?"
"Yeah," Denise sighed. The two made their descent from the rafters and bid each other good-bye. Denise started to walk out, but thought she heard someone speaking. She did!
"Don't hold back, Angel," the voice said. Who was it? It was a very distant voice, but it boomed with power, even though it was nearly silent. She followed the direction she thought it came from, the direction Christine took to get to her dressing room. Denise didn't hear the voice again, but stopped in from of Christine's dressing room to find her singing. Denise smiled at her own insanity and began to walk away, just as the voice spoke again. Inside Christine's dressing room. Denise whirled around. It was him again! That voice she had heard earlier! Who was in there with Christine, singing with her so beautifully? The two had stopped singing. Did they know Denise was there listening? Denise walked a few feet away from the door. Just in time. The door swung open and Christine walked out, smiling. Denise waited for Christine to be out of sight before she ran off for home. Denise lay on her bed that night staring at the ceiling. All day that voice rang in her head. She wanted to know who he was. Why? She couldn't say. He seemed so familiar, yet so strange. She finally drifted off to sleep.
"Denise!" cried a voice in the cold, snow covered field. It was him! Denise ran as fast as her short legs would carry her. She was six years old and with her friend, Joseph. They both ran after the voice, which now took the shape of a monkey, so far ahead. The snow faded and darkness settled. Joseph was nowhere to be seen. Denise stopped, now being nine again, and looked around. Where did that monkey, who held the voice, go? She finally heard it again, "Denise! Angel!" but it was odd. There was a voice, but no body. And why Angel? She closed her eyes and took in a breath. When she opened her eyes she saw her room around her.
It was still dark outside. Denise sat at her desk after she woke up from the dream. She had had that dream before, or something similar. She knew she had. The voice was the one that called to her the night before her mother died. It was also the same one that she heard from behind Christine's door. She now grew so curious of this voice that spoke to Christine and herself, she wanted to listen from outside Christine's door again, and she wasn't even late to her lesson that day.
After her lesson, Denise searched for Christine. She found her once again on the stage, but this time alone, and sitting. She smiled and walked over to her.
"Hi!" Denise said politely. Christine looked up at her. She did not speak. She rose. "Are you okay?" asked Denise. Christine nodded and smiled. "I'm fine! I was just thinking!"
"About what?" asked the inquisitive Denise.
"Nothing" Christine said simply.
"Okay! Uh, by the way, who was...well...nevermind!" Denise said with a smile. Christine nodded to her in a 'good-bye' sense, then walked off to her dressing room. Denise followed stealthily. Once there, Denise listened outside the door. The two voices that sang the previous day were in there again. Denise fell in love with his voice. But who was he?
Denise listened to the two singing for about an hour or so, not paying attention to what they said, just listening. She finally stood up and went home. Who was that? This question would haunt her forever if she couldn't find out. That night she dreamt, once again, of him, that voice which she fell in love with each time she heard it.
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