Many things happened to the Opera Ghost after his great downfall the night of his musicalÕs debut. No doubt the loss of his protegee and love damaged him beyond proper consultation, but he did not end his life. No, he continued on, and tried to find a will to live. Whether or not he did, in the end,ultimately find reason to live is not my job today to tell you. Many things led to his ultimate state. It is my job to tell you the story of one of these events, which of course shaped the man he became.
The opera house was rebuilt, and weakly survived for ten years after its fire on that fateful night. The hopes and dreams of many producers, and owners of the House were the only things that kept it alive for so long. Eventually it lost all meaning to its name, and was abandoned. but not before Pivotal events took place in the life of many, and in particular, one man.
Hordes of young girls flocked,like usual, to the opera to begin their career as a bright new star on stage. And the legend of the opera ghost still kept them in bed at decent hours. It was said that whether or not he died that night, himself or his ghost still haunted the theater. Not all persons working there heeded the warning, and unexplainably left the Opera in a frantic frenzy, not confiding in anyone the reason to their startling leave. And so the Phantom of the Opera lived on. And only a few, over the course of the ten years, really knew the true story behind him.
The phantom made his way through the rafters above the stage, above the stage hands even, scoffing at their ignorance to the fact that he was there. There were about four of them, all passing a jug of brandy from mouth to mouth, slogging the liquid down their throats. If they didn't regain their alertness soon, they were going to miss the cue to drop the garden back drop. Erik crouched down upon a particularly strong wooden beam and contemplated for a split second whether to do it for them. All he head to do was catch their attention somehow and throw it down to the stage below. But almost immediately he chose otherwise, as he was looking forward to watching them receive the consequences. So, presently, the cue came and went, and a puzzled silence drifted up from the stage. Finally angry footsteps thundered out onto the center.
ÒIdiots! What are you doing up there! You want to keep your jobs, put down the drops when your suppose to!Ó It was the new owner of the Opera, monsieur Duchesne. He had been particularly snappy with the cast and crew lately, no one knew why. Many Women of the house suspected trouble at home, but he did a good job concealing the reason.
Erik laughed to him self in pleasure. The monsieur was right. If the men wanted anything to do with the opera, they'd have to put out their utmost effort, for the opera deserved no less. If it were up to Erik, he would have fired them on the spot. Only the most devoted members of the house really deserved to work here. The stage hand bustled around hysterically, and drunkenly , and finally reached the right crank to lower the sheet. AT that the dancers spilled out onto the stage and began their elegant formation. It was rehearsal, and these mishaps were expected to happen regularly. So, that was the purpose of the rehearsal. Erik watched lamely as the ballerinas leaped and twirled. He was never not amazed by the limberness of these girls, how they always were able to float upon the wooden ground, look like angels. As his angel once had. Now she was gone, gone from the building, gone from the city, gone from his heart. He still longed for her everyday, but over time the sharp pain of need had lessened and he was able to go about his day dully, gathering joy from trivial things, his music, or other foolsÕ misfortunes. Of course he still had Adele. Madam Giry had always been there for him, and hadn't deserted him after his heartbreak. He hadn't let her console him, rather, the had ravaged his layer, destroying many things to release his anger instead of other people. If it there was one thing he had learned form this whole ordeal, besides life being mercilessly cruel, and love not ever being present for him, it was that killing persons really didn't get one very far. So he abstained from blood. generally thinking about what Christine would say about him. If only she knew he wasn't a murderer anymore? No, he scolded himself. That wouldn't change anything. She hadn't loved him and that was that.
The scene ended far below him and he gathered himself together to return to his home far beneath everything else. With practiced agility he traveled with surprising speed downwards towards ground level, sometimes taking needed stair cases and tunnel ways. once he passed a couple clearly in the middle of some sort of show of deep affection for one another, huddled into the shadows of a corner. They took no notice of him as he swept past. There is only torture at the end of something like that, he thought to himself.
He walked along the vents above the dancers quarters, where in his younger days he had spied with arrogant expertise at the knowledge that any man in Paris would pay a great deal for his position. But as terrifying as he seemed to be, he was a natural gentleman, and shortly after his teens gained respect for the girls and only used the vents for practical purposes. As he passed, he heard MegÕs voice, and halted his progress to listen. Sometimes Meg would reveal information about Christine aloud to the other ballerinas who knew her and were interested in her well being. Meg was of course , Christine's best friend, and She they wrote to one another periodically.
Erik liked Meg for many reasons. she was AdeleÕs daughter for starters, and because she was trustworthy, however snoopy. Although they had never met, she knew most everything about his history based on the identity of her mother, and had always had a quiet acceptance and kindness for him, and a certain personality entailing kindness and caring for others. Also because she knew his secrets, and of his still clinging love for Christine, she spread the new news about Christine loudly about the dorms for anyone who did or didn't live inside them. Every once in a while she was sent on errands by her mother to bring him things deep into his depths of a home. He did not want her to be frightened by his deformity. While most everyone had in fact seen his hideousness the night everything had died, He assumed it would be hundreds of times worse face to face. and so he would allow her entrance and bid her to leave her business at the gate.
ÒChristine just wrote me,Ó Meg announced, a little too loudly and she held out a letter, Òand she said she is doing quite well, and is dwelling in the sunshine.Ó Many of the girls squealed with joy at the news of their former friend, and sat down around MegÕs feet.
Erik sat down to listen and smiled in appreciation for Meg, and for the wonderful life Christine was now leading, however without him. Meg read ahead a little, then stopped still. Her hand then went to her mouth slowly in a contemplative manner, and she ever so slightly looked up to the ceiling. This did not go unnoticed by Erik. His stomach jumped up into his throat as he leaned forward to see the top of her blond head better.
ÒShe has, however, written me about a matter she has not already.Ó The dancers murmured and shuffled in excitement. Meg quieted her surrounding friends with a distracted wave of her hand as she continued to read the paper, then she commenced in reading aloud.
ÒShe said that she longs to be back here, regardless of the turmoil that she experienced, and she says that she still dreams of her phantom, and his songs still resonate in her head.Ó All of the girls gasped, along with Erik above them. She had never said this in her letters before. Could it be that she still thought of him every once in a while? Every night?
ÒAnd the rest is just things about her estate and servants, and Raoul-Ó One of the girls squeaked, and others giggled.
ÒRauol is so handsome. I would do anything to be Christine!Ó There was a mass of giddy murmured agreement. Meg rolled her eyes and examined the letter again. She stood stock still in the midst of a dozen squirming girls, biting a nail. The others took no notice as she turned her eyes once again up to the vent, searching for any sign of his presence. She was unaware that she could not tell whether he was there or not, but still searched for the phantom every time she disclosed this kind of information to the dorms. It was true that Erik had not been there on several occasions of these ÒChristine letter readingsÓ, for there was no way of securing them being at the same place at the same time, and he couldn't very well stay above the dorms all day, listening for news. But he felt so grateful every time their schedules did coincide.
Erik could see her, yet she not him, and he stared into her hopeful eyes regretfully. He had never made his presence known to her when he was here for this purpose, and he felt so much appreciation that she did this for him, he felt guilt that he never repaid her somehow. The shock of Christine words were still surging through him, however, and he sat back against the wall to regain himself.
So Christine was happy with the dolt. It was difficult for him to accept, yet he did, everyday. All he cared about was Christine's happiness, and with the knowledge that she was living out in the sunshine and happy, then he could go on another day. And the fact that she still held him in her mind, and apparently her heart gave him a sensation between agony and bliss. Though, if he let this get to his mind, he would not be able to function in his everyday routine, and besides there wasn't anything he could do about her.
He rolled back over to look at the scene below once more before he left, and was reminded about his guilt when he saw Meg, who had now sat on the ground silent, her shoulder s rolled,looking very dejected. He supposed he hadn't stayed long enough ever to see her in this state, and was compelled to make his presence known to her.
Erik always carried a small roll of parchment on him at when he went out into the house; He found it had been useful a couple times in the past, and with it he carried a small ink pen. He took them both from his pockets and scribbled a note;
Meg,
Thank you.
-E.
Erik folded the paper in quarters and placed him self directly over the silent girl. With the end of his pen he scratched the metal he was kneeling on. Expectedly, only a few of the girls in the dorm took notice of the sound from above, including Meg, but all but her quickly dismissed the screech for a rat or wind. Meg, however, kept her eyes excitedly on the vent above. When none but she had her attention upwards, he slipped the paper through a slat and it fluttered down into the dorms. MegÕs eyes spotted it instantly and she watched it for a moment as it made its haphazard way through the air. Quickly she stood up, snatched the paper into her hands and unfolded it nervously. Erik watched the top of her head with great anticipation as she took in the contents on the note. Finally her head shot upwards again, eye shining with tears as she searched the vent momentarily, then her face broke into a watery smile. She choked on a sob, then regained her grin and nodded generally at the ceiling. Erik smiled at her, knowing full well she couldn't see him, and watched as she hurried off into another part of the dorms, out of sight.
The opera house was rebuilt, and weakly survived for ten years after its fire on that fateful night. The hopes and dreams of many producers, and owners of the House were the only things that kept it alive for so long. Eventually it lost all meaning to its name, and was abandoned. but not before Pivotal events took place in the life of many, and in particular, one man.
Hordes of young girls flocked,like usual, to the opera to begin their career as a bright new star on stage. And the legend of the opera ghost still kept them in bed at decent hours. It was said that whether or not he died that night, himself or his ghost still haunted the theater. Not all persons working there heeded the warning, and unexplainably left the Opera in a frantic frenzy, not confiding in anyone the reason to their startling leave. And so the Phantom of the Opera lived on. And only a few, over the course of the ten years, really knew the true story behind him.
The phantom made his way through the rafters above the stage, above the stage hands even, scoffing at their ignorance to the fact that he was there. There were about four of them, all passing a jug of brandy from mouth to mouth, slogging the liquid down their throats. If they didn't regain their alertness soon, they were going to miss the cue to drop the garden back drop. Erik crouched down upon a particularly strong wooden beam and contemplated for a split second whether to do it for them. All he head to do was catch their attention somehow and throw it down to the stage below. But almost immediately he chose otherwise, as he was looking forward to watching them receive the consequences. So, presently, the cue came and went, and a puzzled silence drifted up from the stage. Finally angry footsteps thundered out onto the center.
ÒIdiots! What are you doing up there! You want to keep your jobs, put down the drops when your suppose to!Ó It was the new owner of the Opera, monsieur Duchesne. He had been particularly snappy with the cast and crew lately, no one knew why. Many Women of the house suspected trouble at home, but he did a good job concealing the reason.
Erik laughed to him self in pleasure. The monsieur was right. If the men wanted anything to do with the opera, they'd have to put out their utmost effort, for the opera deserved no less. If it were up to Erik, he would have fired them on the spot. Only the most devoted members of the house really deserved to work here. The stage hand bustled around hysterically, and drunkenly , and finally reached the right crank to lower the sheet. AT that the dancers spilled out onto the stage and began their elegant formation. It was rehearsal, and these mishaps were expected to happen regularly. So, that was the purpose of the rehearsal. Erik watched lamely as the ballerinas leaped and twirled. He was never not amazed by the limberness of these girls, how they always were able to float upon the wooden ground, look like angels. As his angel once had. Now she was gone, gone from the building, gone from the city, gone from his heart. He still longed for her everyday, but over time the sharp pain of need had lessened and he was able to go about his day dully, gathering joy from trivial things, his music, or other foolsÕ misfortunes. Of course he still had Adele. Madam Giry had always been there for him, and hadn't deserted him after his heartbreak. He hadn't let her console him, rather, the had ravaged his layer, destroying many things to release his anger instead of other people. If it there was one thing he had learned form this whole ordeal, besides life being mercilessly cruel, and love not ever being present for him, it was that killing persons really didn't get one very far. So he abstained from blood. generally thinking about what Christine would say about him. If only she knew he wasn't a murderer anymore? No, he scolded himself. That wouldn't change anything. She hadn't loved him and that was that.
The scene ended far below him and he gathered himself together to return to his home far beneath everything else. With practiced agility he traveled with surprising speed downwards towards ground level, sometimes taking needed stair cases and tunnel ways. once he passed a couple clearly in the middle of some sort of show of deep affection for one another, huddled into the shadows of a corner. They took no notice of him as he swept past. There is only torture at the end of something like that, he thought to himself.
He walked along the vents above the dancers quarters, where in his younger days he had spied with arrogant expertise at the knowledge that any man in Paris would pay a great deal for his position. But as terrifying as he seemed to be, he was a natural gentleman, and shortly after his teens gained respect for the girls and only used the vents for practical purposes. As he passed, he heard MegÕs voice, and halted his progress to listen. Sometimes Meg would reveal information about Christine aloud to the other ballerinas who knew her and were interested in her well being. Meg was of course , Christine's best friend, and She they wrote to one another periodically.
Erik liked Meg for many reasons. she was AdeleÕs daughter for starters, and because she was trustworthy, however snoopy. Although they had never met, she knew most everything about his history based on the identity of her mother, and had always had a quiet acceptance and kindness for him, and a certain personality entailing kindness and caring for others. Also because she knew his secrets, and of his still clinging love for Christine, she spread the new news about Christine loudly about the dorms for anyone who did or didn't live inside them. Every once in a while she was sent on errands by her mother to bring him things deep into his depths of a home. He did not want her to be frightened by his deformity. While most everyone had in fact seen his hideousness the night everything had died, He assumed it would be hundreds of times worse face to face. and so he would allow her entrance and bid her to leave her business at the gate.
ÒChristine just wrote me,Ó Meg announced, a little too loudly and she held out a letter, Òand she said she is doing quite well, and is dwelling in the sunshine.Ó Many of the girls squealed with joy at the news of their former friend, and sat down around MegÕs feet.
Erik sat down to listen and smiled in appreciation for Meg, and for the wonderful life Christine was now leading, however without him. Meg read ahead a little, then stopped still. Her hand then went to her mouth slowly in a contemplative manner, and she ever so slightly looked up to the ceiling. This did not go unnoticed by Erik. His stomach jumped up into his throat as he leaned forward to see the top of her blond head better.
ÒShe has, however, written me about a matter she has not already.Ó The dancers murmured and shuffled in excitement. Meg quieted her surrounding friends with a distracted wave of her hand as she continued to read the paper, then she commenced in reading aloud.
ÒShe said that she longs to be back here, regardless of the turmoil that she experienced, and she says that she still dreams of her phantom, and his songs still resonate in her head.Ó All of the girls gasped, along with Erik above them. She had never said this in her letters before. Could it be that she still thought of him every once in a while? Every night?
ÒAnd the rest is just things about her estate and servants, and Raoul-Ó One of the girls squeaked, and others giggled.
ÒRauol is so handsome. I would do anything to be Christine!Ó There was a mass of giddy murmured agreement. Meg rolled her eyes and examined the letter again. She stood stock still in the midst of a dozen squirming girls, biting a nail. The others took no notice as she turned her eyes once again up to the vent, searching for any sign of his presence. She was unaware that she could not tell whether he was there or not, but still searched for the phantom every time she disclosed this kind of information to the dorms. It was true that Erik had not been there on several occasions of these ÒChristine letter readingsÓ, for there was no way of securing them being at the same place at the same time, and he couldn't very well stay above the dorms all day, listening for news. But he felt so grateful every time their schedules did coincide.
Erik could see her, yet she not him, and he stared into her hopeful eyes regretfully. He had never made his presence known to her when he was here for this purpose, and he felt so much appreciation that she did this for him, he felt guilt that he never repaid her somehow. The shock of Christine words were still surging through him, however, and he sat back against the wall to regain himself.
So Christine was happy with the dolt. It was difficult for him to accept, yet he did, everyday. All he cared about was Christine's happiness, and with the knowledge that she was living out in the sunshine and happy, then he could go on another day. And the fact that she still held him in her mind, and apparently her heart gave him a sensation between agony and bliss. Though, if he let this get to his mind, he would not be able to function in his everyday routine, and besides there wasn't anything he could do about her.
He rolled back over to look at the scene below once more before he left, and was reminded about his guilt when he saw Meg, who had now sat on the ground silent, her shoulder s rolled,looking very dejected. He supposed he hadn't stayed long enough ever to see her in this state, and was compelled to make his presence known to her.
Erik always carried a small roll of parchment on him at when he went out into the house; He found it had been useful a couple times in the past, and with it he carried a small ink pen. He took them both from his pockets and scribbled a note;
Meg,
Thank you.
-E.
Erik folded the paper in quarters and placed him self directly over the silent girl. With the end of his pen he scratched the metal he was kneeling on. Expectedly, only a few of the girls in the dorm took notice of the sound from above, including Meg, but all but her quickly dismissed the screech for a rat or wind. Meg, however, kept her eyes excitedly on the vent above. When none but she had her attention upwards, he slipped the paper through a slat and it fluttered down into the dorms. MegÕs eyes spotted it instantly and she watched it for a moment as it made its haphazard way through the air. Quickly she stood up, snatched the paper into her hands and unfolded it nervously. Erik watched the top of her head with great anticipation as she took in the contents on the note. Finally her head shot upwards again, eye shining with tears as she searched the vent momentarily, then her face broke into a watery smile. She choked on a sob, then regained her grin and nodded generally at the ceiling. Erik smiled at her, knowing full well she couldn't see him, and watched as she hurried off into another part of the dorms, out of sight.