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Disclaimer: Nothing's mine unless you don't recognize it. And sorry if I get some of the lyrics wrong. Not my fault. Blame my inability to remember anything.
Here's Chapter... is it four now?
I watched with a slight awe. I recognized some of the people, but they looked so much more different than last night's performance. And when they are out of costume. Two men and a woman were the only visible ones on stage. But behind the curtain on the large bed was Carlotta and Christine.
Christine was playing a man! Ew. I listened to the song. One of the cues was in it.
"They say that this youth had set my lady's heart aflame."
"His lordship sure would die of shock!"
"His lordship is a laughingstock."
"Should they suspect her, God protect her.
"Shame, shame, shame!
"This faithless lady's bound for Hades.
"Shame, shame, shame!"
On that last "shame," Amos and I tugged hard on two separate ropes, opening the curtain surrounding the bed. There was Christine and Carlotta, pretending to be kissing. Ew again. Carlotta began "singing."
Serafimo, your disguise is perfect.
Why who can this be?
Thena pudgy man with his face painted up waddled onto the stage.More singing.
Gentle wife, admit your loving husband!
Here, he made a disgusting gesture to a girl on stage. To my shock, that girl was Meg. I hadn't recognized her! The make-up she had on made her look like a porcelain doll. Anyway, Carlotta made an upset pout.
My wife, I'm called to England on affairs of state.
And must leave you with your new maid.
Here, he moved toward Christine and made another disgusting gesture. This opera frightened me.The topic, really. I was raised against it. Adultery, I mean. And that was what this seemed to be about.
The pudgy man leaned out toward the audience and spoke: "Though I would happily take the maid with me!" The audience broke out with fits of laughter.
"The old fool is leaving!" Carlotta also spoke to the audience. Again they laughed.The pudgy man left.
Christine ripped off her "disguise," and everyone on the stage gasped. Carlotta again sang.
Serafimo, away with this pretense.
You cannot speak, but kiss me in my husband's absence.
Again, they pretended to kiss. Okay, this is getting annoying. Carlotta began singing. I felt bad for Christine. When she said she had no lines, she really meant it!
Poor fool, he makes my laugh.
Ha-ha, ha, ha, ha!
Carlotta kept "laughing," each time going higher and higher until she began to screech. I really laughed, though. I mean, come on. It is kinda funny. Amos laughed with me, and when I didn't hear Joseph, I looked around. He wasn't there! Where was he?
My eyes searched around. On the catwalks? No. In the audience—
I saw him. Not Joseph. The Phantom. He was above the audience on a tiny platform circling the whole ceiling. He was just a tiny black speck against the intricately painted ceiling, but he stood out altogether. What was he doing!
The song continued, but now it wasn't just Carlotta singing. Thank goodness.
Poor fool he doesn't know.
Ho-ho, ho, ho, ho...
It continued like this, and the longer it lasted, the more distinct Carlotta's voice got.
If he knew the truth, he'd never, ever go—
"Did I not instruct that Box Five was to be kept... empty?" A booming and strong---and vaguely familiar---voice filled the opera house. I looked up at the Phantom, along with everyone else. Most of them gasped. "He's here. The Phantom of the Opera." I heard Meg say.
"It's him..." Christine muttered. "Your part is silent, little toad!" Carlotta shouted at her. Then she gave a huge smile to the audience, and a nervous laugh. Then walked off the stage. I saw her and her servant people, one with a bottle of something.
A moment later, she walked back on stage, acting very happy and nice. "Oh, mi scusi, tutti. Maestro, da cappo, per favore." she spoke. Obviously Italian. The music began again.
Serafimo, away with this pretense.
You cannot speak, but kiss me in my—
A loud croaking noise escaped from Carlotta's throat. She sounded like a toad! The audience broke into peals of laughter. I joined in.
Poor fool, he makes me laugh.
Ha-ha, ha, ha, ha!
Ha-ha, ha-ha, ha—
Another croak! This time, she only opened her mouth and a croak escaped from her. Serves her right! "Mother!" she yelled, then ran offstage. Monsieur Reyer, the maestro, motioned for us to close the curtains. Before I did, I noticed Joseph running in the same direction that the Phantom had appeared.
He opened a small door and ran through.
The curtains whooshed, hiding the stage. Everyone behind them was scurrying around, not really knowing what was happening. Amos and I began pulling and tugging, bringing up the sets and canvas.
Only some of it was up when we were signaled to open the curtains up again. The ballerinas began hopping and prancing around and I let the other sets down. I was breaking a sweat. I looked up and noticed Joseph. He was walking up and down a catwalk.
I watched him, and was lowering the sets at the same time. A swing nearly hit a ballerina in the head, and she shot a glance up at me that could kill. I looked down at her and smiled a sweet smile, which made her even more mad. Then she ignored me, which I was hoping she would've done a lot earlier.
When I looked up again, Joseph was not where I had first spotted him. I could still see him, though. He was walking with a quickened pace, often glancing behind him. Must have paranoia. Then I saw it. A swirl of black cape. At least I think I did. maybe it was a shadow.
Then I saw it again. Moving so agile like a cat. I could hear Joseph's heavy footsteps and the boards creaking beneath him, but nothing, not a sound came from the Phantom. Maybe that's what he is; not a human at all, but a spirit. I shivered.
The orchestra was playing a cheerful tune and the ballerinas were skipping and prancing about. I noticed sheep on the stage. My eyes shot to Joseph and the Phantom again. Wait—where was the Phantom?
I saw him. Just behind Joseph. He (Joseph, I mean) turned around and came face-to-face with him. I could almost feel his terror. But I was amused. After all of those terrible and untrue stories, Joseph was finally living his self-induced nightmare. Serves him right.
He turned and ran. He grabbed hold of a rope and thrust himself up. They were nearing closer to me and Amos. Only Amos really didn't notice anything. The Phantom also thrust himself up, but with much more grace than Joseph.
Now on opposite sides of the catwalks, I could see them both quite clearly. Joseph edged toward one side, but the Phantom just mimicked him. Again and again. Finally, Joseph just bolted. He didn't really seem to care that he was being followed. I think that he believed that he could outrun the Phantom. Ha!
I saw the Phantom kind of dangling on a rope high above Joseph. He —Joseph, that is— runs past and the Phantom drops in front of him. He grabbed hold of two of the suspending ropes on a catwalk and shook them. Joseph fell onto his stomach and I saw the Phantom approach him. He had a thing coiled round his arm. Rope?
A noose! The Phantom thrust it over Joseph's head and pulled tightly. Tighter and tighter. Joseph's eyes began to grow large, his hands clamped round the rope, as if he could rip it off. No mercy came from the Phantom. He held fast until Joseph's flailing grew less and less, then tossed him over the catwalk!
In the midst of the cheerful dancing ballerinas, a jerking and flailing body was held by the neck from a rope. It took the ballerinas a second to comprehend it, and suddenly bursts of screaming erupted from the stage and audience. I could only stare wide-eyed.
Joseph's limbs twitched continuously, then stopped altogether. A glazed look affixed itself to Joseph's eyes, where he blankly stared out to the members of the audience.
I glanced over at the Phantom, and saw him draw out a sword. He cut the rope Joseph was hanging by, and I could hear the thud of Joseph's body onto the stage. Thenthe Phantomdisappeared.
I ran down to the stage along side Amos, who immediately began to shoo away the girls. I recognized Marie, the ballerina from my room. she was shaking and sobbing at the same time, making the illusion that she was having a seizure. Lovely. I would get no sleep with her and her two cronies around.
I looked down at Joseph's dead body and wanted to laugh at it. To scream "Serves you right!" at the top of my lungs, but then I saw his terror-stricken face. The expression that he died with. I shivered, then noticed a tear rolling down my cheek. Was I actually... crying? For a man I hate?
I ran.
I ran off of the stage and quickly to my room. No one was there, thank goodness. I threw myself onto my bed and sobbed. Literally. For probably five minutes. I felt better, but a disgusting feeling welled up inside me. Then I shot bolt upright. The Phantom! He had told me he was going to do something! He had told me! But murder!
I rushed back out. Not to the stage, though. Not to anywhere in particular. I kept weaving my way in and out of hallways and staircases. I stopped for a moment to catch my breath and to try to figure out where I was. Pretty high up, I expect.
I began to walk down a—what seemed—abandoned hallway when, for the second time, I came in close contact with the Phantom. He seemed in a hurry, but stopped when he saw me. He turned around, and started going the way he had come.
"How could you?" I asked. He began to walk away again, but answered, "Something needed to be done. No one else was doing anything, and he was getting too close."
"So you decided to kill him! And display it publicly!" I gasped. "You best stay away, stagehand," he stated. "I thought I was 'something of an acquaintance'," I tried to use any shred of logic I could conjure up.
He turned around and began walking toward me. A pang of fear grew inside me. Am I going to die? He only stopped when he was only about six inches away from me. "Then, as an acquaintance, I ask you to stay away. I saved you once, don't made me rid of you that soon."
And with that, he walked right past me, deciding that he was going to do what he had come for.
I bolted down as many flights of stairs as I could until I found a place that seemed familiar. This place was huge, and I happen to be in the one place that the Phantom was. Just my luck.
I heard the squeal of the ballerinas that reside in my room. lovely. Just lovely. I have enough to think about already, and their squealing isn't going to make it any better. I slipped in, and—surprisingly—no one noticed me. I laid myself down onto my bed, weary and scared when the girls began talking.
"Oh, Marie! Joseph almost fell right on top of you!"
"I know, I know, Janet. Did you see the Phantom?" Marie replied
"I think I did. Looked just like Joseph's—God rest his soul—description!"
I scoffed loud enough for them to hear me. A tall, and very thin girl—Janet—looked at me. "You know better?" she asked me. Marie laid a hand on Janet's shoulder. "Now, now, Janet. Don't you remember Joseph's story? She's the one under his spell! Of course she's seen him!"
I was disgusted. "So, stagehand, tell us. What's he like?" Marie asked with obvious excitement. I could lie. Fill their heads up with more scary stories of him, but that's what got Joseph killed.
"Uh... I don't know all too well," Imuttered. The girls tittered. "Then tell us about the first day you were here, and you saw him," Janet demanded. "Fine," I growled.
"He unhooked a rope and a large sheet of canvas fell on Carlotta. I must've gasped and he heard me, and gestured me to be quiet. That was it," I concluded. The girls looked at me, then giggled. Marie took out a sheet of paper. "Then why is there... this?" she asked. My eyes widened. I hadn't checked to see if there was a new message! They had found it!
"Go on, Marie! Read it again!" the third girl shrieked.
Marie cleared her throat and stood up in the middle of the room. "Dear Elise, Do not accuse me of anything. I suggest that you keep your belongings in a safe place. I am blamed enough when things go missing. O. G." Marie read. How dare she bother what is not hers!
I gasped. Had they read my other messages. Marie placed her hands on her hips and smirked. I felt like punching her. "So, stagehand, explain yourself."
I balled my fists until I couldn't feel them anymore. "The first letter was an apology. I wrote back, then he did, then I did, then he did, and I was informed about his last letter by you thieves!" I shouted. "Ha! You wanted Joseph to die, didn't you!" she shouted back.
"Where did that come from!" I shouted.
"Your letters!"
"Leave me alone!"
"I have no reason to," she said coolly. "You're only a stagehand. That means nothing!" her voice was rising again. "Fine! But the show would die without the stagehands!" With that, I stormed out. I slammed the door behind me, and in an instant, I could hear the girls' cackling. I hate them.
The opera house is almost scary at night. Last night, it had been so crowded and bright, but now, there were a few oil lamps here and there. They all cast eerie shadows against the walls, and I felt watched. How silly, I thought. But the more I pondered it, the more it made sense.
I wandered for hours on end. Somewhere, I heard a church bell go off. Twelve o'clock. The magic hour.
I was tired. But I couldn't go back to my bed, even if the demonic ballerinas were asleep. I needed to sleep. Where? The stage. It's big, and no one would be there. Not after Joseph. Perfect.
I found my way to the stage without really knowing how. As I predicted, it was empty, except for a few stray pieces of a set. I stood in the middle, and looked up. Instantly, I remembered Joseph. He was mean, lazy, and a drunk, but I miss him. What, was it just yesterday, today even,that I wished him harm!
"I'm sorry, okay!" I shouted to no one. No response, but I didn't figure there would be one. But the silence was crushing. Literally. I felt like I was being wrapped tighter and tighter into some invisible matter. I couldn't break out. So I began humming.
My voice was weak and off-key, but I really didn't care. I just needed some sort of semi-comforting noise. It seemed less lonely. I laid down on my back in the centre of the stage. I felt tiny, like floating in an ocean.
A voice drifted through my thoughts. Not mine. I don't even know if it was only in my head, or really out there somewhere. But I think I had heard it before. It was calm, like a lullaby, and I felt instantly better. I wished it could stay forever. But then it disappeared.
I felt sleep taking me. By body was numb, but something in my brain was still awake. I could vividly see the Phantom as if he was looking right at me at this very moment. I blinked, and it went away. I yawned; sleep had won.
I felt my eyelids closing and my brain shutting down. Finally. A smile crept onto my face. I don't know why. Today had been awful. I had no reason to be smiling.
The image of the Phantom made its way into my mind again. I blinked, but it wouldn't go away. and I was glad.
Long chapter again. Yeah. My fingers hurt. Y'know, before I went to bed last night, I was thinking. This will be my fifth update on FanFiction since I got out of school, but before that I had only posted eight times! I've been busy. And bored. Can't forget that!
Okay, three reviews, please. Or more. Or less. I'm not too picky. And if you have any ideas, please tell me. My creative side has been a little off this week.
And if you'd give me your opinions on my Danny Phantom of the Opera idea, I'd thank you. If I ever write it, that is...
Until Next Chapter,
DaydreamingTurtle
