This is a non-profit work of fan-fiction based upon The Phantom of the Opera novel. All related characters, places, and events, belong to Gaston Leroux. This story, and all original content, belongs to the author, © 2005, 2008.


Darkness
By Orianna-2000

--ooOoo--

Twelve months in their entirety have passed since that fateful night when the Opera Garnier nearly became a pile of granite dust and broken marble. One year since my ragged soul found peace and redemption in the simplest of gestures, given freely by the girl who held my heart in the palm of her delicate hand. Three hundred and sixty five days ago tonight, Christine kissed me.

If I close my eyes, I can still hear the quiet rustle of silk as she stood over my bent and miserable figure. I can smell the gentle perfume drifting down from that graceful angel of mercy, like a tangible benediction. My forehead still tingles where she softly pressed her lips to my dreadful skin. I shall never forget how that sweet child saved me from a living death, rotting in my own hatred and remorse.

She kissed me, and it was as if the heavens opened and released a flood of cleansing waters, as salty as our tears that mingled after that fateful moment. The droplets fell upon my hands, as warm as blood. I could not keep her with me as my living bride—I would not force her to be my wife if she loved another man. How could I have even considered the sick and twisted idea? As she released me from my own prison of darkness, so I released her from her vow and set her free. . . .

Imagine my astonishment when she then knelt before me and kissed my fingers so tenderly, and whispered my name as the man she desired to wed. She wanted me, a man who until that moment had never truly lived! My heart beat allegro, so fast and hard that I thought it would burst and leave me dead at the moment of such undeserved joy. Perhaps her heart began to beat in place of mine, pumping blood for us both, saving me physically as she had already done emotionally. On a day of miracles, who can say?

--ooOoo--

Tonight, Paris is toasting the visit of royalty with a spectacular gala. Naturally, the singing will not be up to my standards, but why should I complain about that when I have my own personal diva to fill the nights with rapturous, unearthly song? Still, Christine and I will be attending. Not as invited guests! But this is still the Opera Garnier, and I am still its Opera Ghost, even if I have been unheard from for many months.

Tonight we will make our début, Christine and I. Together we will haunt this place, as I once did alone. She has chosen a gown of the palest satin, which will nearly glow in the darkness I shall happily provide. The style is perhaps a year out of date, but who would expect a phantom's bride to keep up with the rapid changes of fashion?

Tonight we shall walk down the steps of the Grand Staircase, arm in arm, and I shall introduce to the public my wife: Madame le Fantôme de l'opéra.


Author's Note: The above is an excerpt from "Darkness". The complete version of this story can be found in the published anthology: Phantom Variations: Tales From the World of the Opera Ghost (edited by H.D. Kingsbury) under the pen-name Orianna Duomille.