Disclaimer: I don't own "The Phantom of the Opera", The Phantom, Christine, Mame Giry, Raoul, or any of the known characters, lyrics and indicia related to the play, musical and/or movie(s). This story, however, along with its main character (Luc Reyer) belongs to me, so please no unauthorised copying.
P.S. Please note that some French phrases are used in this text.
A mystery, they called it. A mystery, the papers said. Famous soprano fled from the opera house one night, rumoured with the new patron whom, also rumoured, she had an affair with. It was a strange affair indeed, but the seats sold like mad on the gala night; an extra ticket was always wanted. The managers of the opera rubbed their hands together as the money piled up on their desks. An opera ghost? They had long forgotten about the silly obsession of the cast and other opera staff with the infamous O.G.
Monsieurs Andre and Firmin had left the Opera Populaire after the scandalous chandelier crash on the premiere of "Il Muto" happened: the opera house was now run by a wealthy company, well-known in Paris, but not interested in culture as much as in money. Madame Giry still lead the ballet with her strict hand, and Carlotta still sang all the female leading roles, although age was starting to get the best of her and she was loosing her voice more often.
The affair of the Opera Ghost, Christine DaaƩ and the Vicomte de Chagny was still retold among the young chorus girls and the ballet ensemble; at least, until Madame Giry hobbled after them on her walking stick (on which she leaned frequently), shouting not to waste their time on useless legends and gossip. She would never retell the story of the Opera Ghost to them, and she and her daughter Meg kept the secret of the Phantom's lair in the basements of the opera house to themselves. There was no need for that, however: the mirror in the dressing room was bricked up, along with all the entrances to the basements where the Phantom's lair once was. Nothing of the sort happened again in the Opera Populaire; nobody heard of the Phantom ever again.
Monsieur Reyer, the old conductor, had died some years ago, and was replaced by Luc Reyer, his grandson. Luc was barely in his twenties, but still his conducting abilities stood shoulder to shoulder with his grandfather's when old Reyer was in his prime years. Today he was debating with Madame Giry over Carlotta, who had lost her voice yet again and could talk only in a coarse whisper.
"Mame Giry," Luc said to her in a whisper, following her through the dormitory of the opera house one early morning as she tapped the beds with her cane to wake the ballet dancers for an early-morning rehearsal, "this can't go on! Carlotta has to be replaced! The premiere of "Orpheus" is tomorrow night, and we have nobody to sing the role of Euridice!"
"Well," Madame replied as the tousle-haired ballet girls sat up in their beds, yawning, "we can't find another Christine DaaƩ, Monsieur. One of the chorus girls could sing Euridice, and they would be good, but not good enough for the opening night of the new season."
Luc sighed. He hoped the old ballet teacher had a trick up her sleeve and could magically conjure a soprano for him, but it was once again proved that she was just a human being.
"Then I guess I will have to pick one of the chorus girls," he said.
"Carlotta won't be pleased," Madame Giry commented.
"No, she won't, but I am afraid I can't do anything about it. Our prima donna will have to be replaced. Au revoir, Madame," he said and left the dormitories.
Although he'd worked in the Opera Populaire for nearly a year, Luc still found that he got lost in its corridors and stairwells, which happened now. He wound down a stone staircase and ended up in a small circular room. Its walls were decorated with frescoes of angels, and a large stained-glass window portraying the Archangel Michael let in the sunlight. He recognised this place - his grandfather had told him much about it, although Luc had never been there himself: it was the old chapel, now deserted apart from an occasional superstitious staff member who would come to pray here now and then. There was a rusty iron candle holder beside the large fresco of an angel with an androgynous face and a kind, compassionate smile. Luc would have left the chapel immediately, knowing it was corridors away from the stage, where he was heading, were it not for something which caught his eye. One of the candles which was burning suddenly blew out, like a strong wind passed across it. However, the window was closed, and the wind seemed to come out of nowhere. Luc heard the rustle of a cloak, and another candle blew out. There were only two remaining.
"Who's there?" He turned around, but could see and hear nothing more: just darkness. He thought he must have imagined it: it was probably someone walking in the hall above, when all the handles were blown out and he found himself in total darkness, apart from the feeble light sprinkling from the window. Luc's skin crawled. Ever since he was a child, he was terribly afraid of the dark: a candle burned in his bedroom all through the night even now.
And then, he heard a voice. Just a whisper, yet every word was clear. It whispered a song, so distinct that the person who sang it seemed to be standing behind him, whispering into his ear: "Wandering child, " it sang, "so lost, so helpless; yearning for my guidance... " A man's voice. Luc gasped and jumped away from the source of the sound, crashing with the candle holder and knocking it to the ground with an echoing clang. The voice softly laughed as Luc crept along the wall, his back against it, his hand groping for the emptiness that he knew was the stairwell which lead upwards, towards the light. Cold sweat trickled down his back as his eyes struggled to see something in the pitch-black darkness, and the childhood fears floated up to the surface of his consciousness. "Learn to find your way in darkness, lost child! Too long you've wandered in the light!" the voice said.
"Who are you?" Luc yelled, trying to keep his voice steady. The stairwell was still out of his reach and the wall seemed to go forever on. "What do you want with me?" There was silence. Luc's fingers snaked, slowly, slipping with sweat, across the wall, even quicker than before, until finally they hit thin air. The stairway! He turned to run up, but tripped over something and fell on his back.
The back of his head hit the stone step and he was momentarily dizzy as everything swam out of focus. There was a whirl of a cloak, and he felt two strong arms pick him up. He couldn't move because his head was swimming, and he felt that if he moved it, he would surely vomit. The man carried him through darkness, down stairwells, walls closed behind them, rats scurried for the flame of the torch the man was carrying, and Luc though he heard the murmur of water, but then he forgot everything and lost consciousness.
