4-something-05
I wrote "Hannibal" aroud the same time I was finishing prolouge, so no major updates. runs to Microsoft Word and starts writing chapter two
Chapter One: Hannibal
Erik
I walked silently down the dark, complex path to where it connects my living chamber and the stage balcony. I had walked down this path for more than three years, learning of its twists and turns, eventually knowing them by heart. I had come down this orbit, as many times before, to hear the handsome sounds of the opera chorus. My pupil, Christine Daae, is one of these girls. I have been her mentor for only the last three months, and yet the more her voice excels, the more I feel love for her. My head knows that she is only a woman of sixteen years of age, but my heart is telling me to love her with every fiber of my being. I pondered at this for quiet some time.
As the road began to come at an end, my ears adjusted to the coming sounds of Carlotta Giudicelli, the lead actress in far too many roles. This year's opera was "Hannibal". Although she was terribly miss cast for the part, she was the Prima Donna, and which that she was to be the star of each role that came to her. I think that it is proper to give thanks to that fool who runs my theater, Mousier Lefevre, for this. No matter, though, as I have sent him to an early retirement with my gift of playing simple tricks on the mind. I smirked to myself. Such a man who could not deal with me could not deal with a theater.
The path came to an end, as I could see the dull light from the outside flooding in the cracks under the wall. I took the candle in which was placed in my hand and shown it onto the lever which open the wall door. My hand settled onto the switch and pulled. The walls made a quiet crinkling sound as it struggled to open, stopped abruptly, and slid to the left of the path revealing a great splash of wind onto my face. As the wind calmed, I had placed my candle down silently onto the floor, for it was now extinguished.
My eyes quickly adjusted to the dull light and I found myself, as I had expected, on the second balcony closest to the roof. The height of the balcony was of at least fifty feet high with a great deal of ladders leading up to it. The floorboards were in a rectangular order in which one could easily access from the upper stage to the lower stage in a few seconds time. If you were to look around you, one would see the endless ropes and pulleys connecting the scenery, curtain, and stage. Here, you wouldn't find it hard to get utterly confused to which rope connects to what pulley, and leave the place immediately out of udder frustration. Of course, knowing the Opera like the back of my palm, I knew which rope led to which pulley. Right now, my eyes were fixed on the main pulley of the backdrop. With that, my mind began to work franticly.
My mind was interrupted when I heard the shrill sounds of Carlotta's voice in my ears. I looked down at the stage to find that she was directly below me. She began to sing the song of the finale. Until now, it was one of my favorites of the opera.
She began. "Think of me, think of me fondly when we've said goodbye." She held out the last two notes far longer than they were suppose to go, but no one noticed, or if they did, they did not have the courage to tell the mademoiselle.
No, this has gone far enough. For the sake of this opera, she must be gotten rid of. My eyes glanced at the backdrop rope. I smirked.
"Remember me once in a while. Please promise me you'll try." She continued. I needn't notice that she had once again carried out the notes, for I swiftly made my way toward my destination.
"When you find that once again you long-" At this, I quickly untangled the rope resting on it's post and let it slip freely out of my gloved hands.
The backdrop fell at an exhilarating rate in which the prima donna did not notice until the last moment. It plummeted down quickly merely missing her by feet, yet the force pushed her to the ground.
Many people gasped and screamed at the sight of this, but Christine and her friend, Meg, there heads shot straight up into the air. Fear was on their faces, not for Carlotta, but for what might have caused the backdrop to fall. I knew that they could not see me, for the darkness was to great, and so I simply stared back at them.
"Signora!" the music conductor yelled, while many of the stage crew tried to peel the fallen scenery off of the crying diva.
I smirked once again as to have pleasure in the pain Carlotta was given. At this, I reached inside of my coat pocket and drew out a letter. I had written the letter addressed to the new managers of the theatre far before the day was anew. I knew that my faithful friend, Antoinette Giry, would pick it up for me. I dropped it into the backstage, and as expected, Antoinette quickly picked it up and placed it into her hands. She needn't look up at me, for she new I was there. How many times I had to thank her for the tasks I had for her? She was my friend and faithful servant in this labyrinth of an opera.
Chapter One End