What Raging Fire?
By: TheAngleofMusic
Started: 3/12/05
Title: What Raging Fire?
Author: TheAngleofMusic
Rating: R for violence, sexuality/innuendo, thematic elements, and mild language.
Summary: When Carolina (Pronounced Car-ol-e-na), a poor, young Spanish woman with a shadowed past, comes to live at the Paris Opera House as a meager set designer, she gets more than she bargins for when an opera ghost long belived dead takes a special interest in her. And so begins a relationship with the Phantom of the Opera...though both of them are scarred physically and mentally...and the Phantom still cannot trust...Heartbreak, action violence, romance, and much more!
Warnings: This is an EOW, meaning that it is an Erik/Other Woman romance. If you don't like don't read. It's that simple! Also, this story will contain sex! The chapters that contain it will have a clear label at the top…if you wish to receive the story without this in it…if you e-mail it to me I will give you the PG-13 copy!
Note on the Phantom: My Phantom will always be Gerry Butler…though I have had the fortune to see the Broadway show with Hugh Panaro, not great in looks, but great in voice. So my Phantom looks and has the personality of Gerry Butler, with Hugh Panaro's singing voice, with the Kay/Leroux deformity.
Disclaimer: If they were mine, I wouldn't be writing this. I own NOTHING! Sob Except for any characters that you don't reckonize!
Review Notes: Any type of review is welcome, flames included! Though if you do decide to flame please include constructive criticism!
How to Reach the Author: If you wish to be part of an update list, or want to e-mail me with suggestions, comments, anything else you can reach me at: or AIM me at love2surf23508
Some Story Notes: This story can be considered AU. The events of Dan Juan Triumphant happened, meaning that Christine left Erik…though the chandelier falling never sent the Opera House into flames. Andre and Firmin continued on running the opera, and most of the original cast continued performing.
That's it…now on with the show…
Prologue…1 year after the one and only performance of 'Don Juan Triumphant'
Paris, France
It was an unearthly time of night in Paris; the normally bright Parisian streets were shadowed in darkness. The harvest moon had risen to its highest point in the sky, its light the only brightness in the darkness of the city below. The streets at this time of night were dangerous, being roamed by drunks and murders. The nobility were all asleep in their mansions and estates, while the commoners slept contentedly in their flats, though those of the lower class were awake. The drunks wandering from tavern to tavern while the murderers and criminals were stalking the shadows.
From up an alley came the sound of shuffling feet, as if someone was running from something. A young woman, not out of her twenties twirled around a corner, her breath ragged as she ran.
"Come back here, whore!" Came the drunken call of a man from somewhere down the street. "You haven't given me my pleasure tonight!" He called after her.
The woman cast a glance over her shoulder, the moonlight catching her ruddy face. She nearly tripped over the tattered and torn bottom of her skirts, as she tried to run away from the man who wanted her tonight.
There were more sounds coming from up the alley, the drunken man had gathered his friends to look for her. She knew that he had paid good money to use her tonight, and he would not let her get away so easily.
She turned another corner, her bare feet making slapping sounds on the cobblestone street below her. Her breath now came in short gasps, as she tried to search for a place to hide. The lights of the shop windows were darkened, the kiosks and cart shops had been safely hidden from the night prowlers. She stopped, listening for some kind of sound. There was none.
The woman let out a sigh of relief, as she stood in the middle of the otherwise deserted street…they had given up on her. She turned around, deciding that she would go seek some sort of shelter for the night. She whipped her dirty and sweaty hands on the edge of her skirt, thankful that she would not have to spend the night in the bed of that man again.
For the past ten years of her life, this young woman, whose name was Carolina Dane had been living the poor life of parents. She had been born into a middle class family, her father had been a successful merchant, which allowed her family to live contentedly.
She had had one older brother, Gaston, and would have had a younger sister, Laurie, had her mother not had that horrible disease.
The disease had come like a wave in Paris; killing off many when Carolina was only three…she had been lucky enough to survive the disease, though it had claimed her mother who had been seven months pregnant with her sister. The disease had killed them both…and the rest of the family.
Her father, just six months later, contracted a similar disease; it had slowly killed him off, leaving just Carolina and her older brother, Gaston. Her mother had not left her any money in her will and her father passed everything into Gaston's hands. Though her brother had been young, seventeen, and foolish with his inheritance. He had lost most of it in just a year from visiting local bars and gambling like a madman.
Then the landlord evicted them from their small flat and Gaston had fled Paris, going to some other city or town, perhaps to start a new life. Though he had fled leaving Carolina with nothing but memories.
For the past several years of her life Carolina had tried everything to get money, she tried working for a seamstress, though she was clumsy with her hands. She tried being an apprentice for god knows how many jobs, yet had failed at all of them. There was nothing she could do, except design. She loved designing sets for books that she read.
She remembered a time when her parents had taken her to the Opera Populaire, back when she had been young. Her father, even though middle class, had strived to raise both his son and daughter into nobility. She remembered watching the ballerinas twirling on the stage, the beautiful voices of the lead roles, and she remembered how she had wanted to become one!
Though now, in her currently situation, becoming a famous singer was much too large of dream for her to catch. For the past year or so she had taken to selling herself, becoming a whore.
It was the lowest of jobs, though she could make a decent sum for each of the nights that she spent in a dirty man's presence, giving herself willingly to them. She thought it was a repulsive job, and she knew that her father would have cursed her for stooping to such lowness. She was nothing better now than the men who used her for their pleasure.
"There you are, beautiful," A drunken man slurred, stepping up into the moonlit street.
Carolina backed up; she had nowhere to go, now that all these men were closing in around her. The one who had just spoken to her, a fat man with a large, ruddy, and bearded face, stepped up to her, one fat hand reaching to caress her cheek.
Caroling raised her hand and slapped him hard across his face, her only way to show defiance.
The man recoiled back, a hand coming up to his cheek. His eyes suddenly flared up with rage, as he grasped her thing wrist now in his large hand. His grip intensified and Carolina's eyes screwed up in pain.
Then came the sickening pop as the bone snapped.
Carolina heard the pop and looked down at her wrist, in the dim moonlight the bone was visibly sticking through her skin. Her eyes rolled back in her head, as she collapsed into the man's arms.
"Ah…too bad…looks like you won't have the pleasure of spending your night with me," the man whispered dangerously in her ear while lifting Carolina's limp form off of the ground.
Like, hate? Please take the time to review!
