"There's no one there."
Christine looked confused for a moment. She clutched her friends arm slightly.
"Are you sure? Maybe they have gone in the foyer."
Meg stepped into the pre-room before the entrance to the foyer. She was right, there was no one in the room. Meg moved to the doors of the back entrance to the foyer, and pushed on the frames. It didn't budge.
"Its locked…"
Christine was frowning slightly, but Meg turned to her with a look of terror. Her eyes widened, and she stepped slowly away from the doors.
"Meg, wha…what's wrong?"
Meg looked vacantly past her, and then scanned the room once more, checking behind statues and curtains. She returned and looked at Christine gravely.
"Christine, there was some one here. We heard them didn't we?"
Christine shrugged. "Well, maybe they were in a hurry…"
"We only left the room for a second! They couldn't have run out of the room down the corridor without us noticing!"
Christine was beginning to feel quite afraid at her friends hushed, but near hysterical voice. She moved closer to Meg and dropped her voice.
"Maybe…maybe it was…" She couldn't think of anything. They unmistakably heard something outside the door, like footsteps and rustling of clothes. It couldn't have been a draft or the movement of the curtains. But what was Meg so frightened about?
"A while back," Meg began, leading her away from the foyer and its grand corridors, ", there were rumours of mysterious goings on in the Opera. It was small, silly things at first, like a candelabra would go missing, or a cut out from the scenery. It started to become a joke in trying to find out who the culprit was, like, you know, one of the stage hands or something, trying to scare us all. I was very young, I hardly remember, but the missing objects started to turn into more serious happenings…"
Meg had started guiding them back up the winding staircases, up to their dorms. Christine listened intrigued to the dark story that Meg seemed ravelled up in. "There were sightings. There were sightings of shadows of a figure when no one was about. There were incidences, whether it was true or not, of people spotting a mysterious man lurking about backstage when rehearsals were taking place. They would vanish of course, as soon as anyone got too curious…" Meg was studying the interested, but sceptic look on Christine's features. "You don't believe in Ghosts?"
Christine thought for a moment. She wasn't sure really, but the idea of a ghost scared her, and denying its presence would be the easiest thing for her to do.
"No, not really. It was probably like you said, it was just someone playing a joke…"
"But one day, a year ago," Meg interrupted. "Someone was found…dead. Sprawled at the bottom of a staircase! Now," She ignored the raised eyebrow of Christine's, indicating a theory of an accident. "…people claimed he just fell by accident. But there was markings on his neck that looked suspiciously like…rope marks. And this man was not someone anyone wanted dead; he just had a curious nose. It seems to some, that he was punished for poking around in places that he shouldn't…"
Christine walked into the dorm room with Meg, and sat herself onto her bed next to her suitcase. She cocked her head to the side, in thought of Meg's tale of ghosts.
"It was only last night, Christine, that another sighting of the Phantom occurred."
The Phantom? Christine thought to herself. Surely there was no such thing. A Phantom of an Opera who tormented the members with curious sightings and death warnings? It seemed a little far fetched.
"Have you seen anything?" She asked Meg. The little golden haired girl shook her head.
"No, I haven't seen anything. But yet…what…or who did we just hear back at the foyer?"
--
A few days later
Although the younger members of the Ballet corps were not going to be involved in any Operas until a prime age, they were swung into practise straight away. Christine had been introduced to her first lesson a day into her stay at the Opera, and she was beginning to feel the strain. Her tiny legs and muscles ached feverishly, and with every move, her limbs would shake.
Christine felt out of place once again at these practises. Madame Giry was not taking these classes, as she was involved in helping for the new production to be ready for opening night in a few days. One of the older girls from the Corps had been instructed to take the younger dancers for the week, and she was doing a very tiring job. Her keenness to impress the ballet mistress reflected in how hard she pushed the little girls to perfect every move. The girls had been dancing all their lives, especially Megan, who shot gracefully and perfected through every move, followed by the envious eyes of Christine and the other girls. Christine had been corrected on many occasions and even having an example made of her.
"If anyone wants to end up as a road sweeper instead of a dancer, please take notes from Miss Daae's movements!"
Abashed, Christine had left the dancing foyer almost in tears. Meg had ran up to her and put a comforting arm around her.
"It gets a lot easier, Christine! It's your first days yet, don't worry! We have plenty of time to perfect ourselves until we perform in a real Opera!"
But Christine did not share her enthusiasm. The little girl walked toward a dark corridor on her own, to a place where Madame Giry had shown her the day before. A place were she would be undisturbed, and a place where she could let her emotions out.
The chapel was a small, cold room a few floors beneath ground level of the Opera. Its walls and floor were granite stone, and there was a small alter and stain glass window, proclaiming it reference to its name.
Christine slumped down onto the cold floor, and began removing her ballet slippers. Her feet were bruised and sore, and she massaged them gingerly. She looked up toward the alter, tears brimming to her eyes, and spilling down her porcelain cheeks. Her huge eyes looked completely heart broken as she spoke.
"Father…father, can you hear me? I am trying…I'm trying very hard for you, Papa. My feet hurt, and my head hurts a little, but I guess…I guess it's not too bad. Megan has been a great friend, papa, and Madame Giry is most kind. But I…I miss you…" The little girl curled up her knees and sobbed into them.
--
The soft cries echoed through the dark passage ways of the Opera. Secret passageways which hardly anyone knew about save a few. Only one wandered the dark haunts, shadowed with blackness of the windowless corridors, invisible to all whom past unaware of a mysterious presence so close by.
The cries travelled to a listener, who stopped at the sorrowful tune of loss. The noise was so recognisable, the sound of pain and hopelessness, that the heart would sink to hear it. A figure followed the sound of the mourning, keeping to a set path of secrecy, away from all populated areas of the Opera. The dark, damp corridor led directly in parallel to the Chapel, they only thing masking it was the stone wall framing the large stain glass window next to the alter. The figure kept to the side of the window, keeping to its favourite stance of stealth and silence. It listened carefully to the little girl, weeping in sorrow, then the small sniffs of bravery, then the tiny voice of hope.
"Father…I would be very glad of your help right now…oh…Angel…where are you? Where is my Angel of Music?"
The voice began to hum very quietly and broken at first, cracking with the sobs and tears of the later outburst. She soon proceeded by uttering words of a quiet song. The song became more audible, with a haunting melody accompanied by the prettiest of voices.
"Father once spoke of an Angel,
I hope one day he'll appear.
And when I sing I will sense him,
Being always near.
Here in this room,
I call thee softly,
Come to my side, guide me.
Someday I'll know, your always with me,
Taking my hand to lead."
Shhhhh
The soft noise startled Christine, and she sat bolt upright. Her heart began pounding terribly, and her tears lay cold on her cheeks, forgotten. Her wide eyes darted around the room, while her body didn't move a muscle.
"Who…who's there?" She whispered. The soft soothing noise came again, causing the opposite to Christine's feelings, who stood upright in an instance, almost knocking the tray of candles down with her. Her heart fluttered wildly, yet her legs refused to run. She was frozen to the spot. She wrung her hands together in panic, and clenched her jaw.
…Don't be afraid…tell me… why do you weep?
The voice sounded so eerie yet beautiful to her. Christine wanted to cover her ears, and not listen to it, and run screaming from the chapel. Yet most of her wanted to listen to that voice again. She wanted to here again that velvety voice which made her arms tingle with goose bumps as soon as she heard it. She turned around slowly, trying to locate the source of the gentle voice.
"Who is that? Where are you?" She said a little more loudly, yet not anywhere near confidently. She waited a while for the answer.
…I am here to listen, young one…I am here to help…
"Well…I…I don't know if I should…I shouldn't talk to someone…I...I don't know."
The voice replied once more, causing Christine to gasp at its wonderful soothing sensation it had on her, like her fathers did. She felt her sorrow slip away bit by bit as the voice echoed through the room.
…I'm here…do not be afraid…sorrow passes with reflection…share your thoughts…
Christine soon found herself talking none stop about her father, her arrival at the Opera, her promise to her father, and his promise to her…to send her the Angel of Music to watch over her. She had talked so passionately and tearfully about her wish for the angel to come to guide her like her father had said, she had spoke for at least half and hour through spells of tears and anger and despair. She had soon found that her fear had past into wonderment for the mysterious voice, and she found herself wanting to stay and listen forever to its deep heavenly richness…
Heavenly? Christine stopped mid sentence. Her eyes grew wide, and her mouth opened slightly. She stood in the centre of the chapel, and hugged her arms around herself. She braced herself.
"Are you…are you my Angel?"
The voice did not reply for a long time. Christine waited in anticipation, her eyes forever scanning the room for a sign of a presence. There was none.
...I must leave you, little one. But do not fret, I will be watching over you…
Soon, Christine was left to the silence of the chapel. She had waited for a long time before leaving the cold stone room, and glancing back a few times before completely leaving. Suddenly as she was outside, her fear came flooding back. She remembered the tales that Meg had told her about the Opera Ghost, and she felt the blood drain from her face. She bolted up the staircases towards the dorms, heart pounding and bile gathering in her mouth. Her mind raced with thoughts of a figure chasing her from behind, causing her legs to feel like jelly, and her back feeling very vulnerable. She spun around plenty of times to check behind her, before finally colliding with a large figure. She screamed.
"Oh my, Miss Daae, is there a need for such commotion?"
It was Madame Giry. She straightened her clothes and touched her hair slightly to check all was in place. Christine stared up at her with wide eyes, gasping for breath, and bowing apologetically.
"Im sorry, Madame, I truly am! I was just…I was…"
She cast a fearful glance behind her, oblivious to the curious stare she was receiving from Madame Giry. She lifted up the 7 years olds chin softly to meet her eyes.
"What have you seen child?"
Christine held her gaze for a moment, before shaking her head. She decided declaring her madness to Madame Giry was the last thing she wanted after a terrible day at rehearsals.
"Nothing…" She panted. "Nothing at all."
Madame Giry stared at her curiously for a long time. She snapped out of it suddenly and ushered her up a staircase up towards her room.
"Now then, up to bed with you. Your singing practice starts tomorrow, all dancers must be able to sing chorus too! Vite vite!"
Madame Giry watched the small girl scamper up the stairs quicker than usual. She frowned and began to make her way to the lower tiers of the Opera. Her thoughts strayed to the fear she had seen rooted in the little girl's eyes, fear she had seen before in others eyes, when a mysterious presence had made themselves known for a short period. Madame Giry was not about to let this girl become a victim to the terrors, for all the terror Christine had been through already.
Madame Giry glanced around her before disappearing around a dark corner. She would not want anyone to see or follow her to the place where she would be settling a few ground rules that night…
