'Ello yall. I am finally back with chapter 3. I am sorry it took me so long to update, and I should be getting chapter 4 up very soon. Oh and by the way, thank you to all of my reviewers, your opinions are most appreciated. Well if anyone else has any opinions on it just submit a review, whether you think it sucks or you think it is good.
Best wishes,
Secretsirius
Phantom of the Opera ch.3
Chloe knelt down and picked up the rose form her mother's tombstone and smelled of it as she held it close to her heart and took a step away. A tear streamed down her pale cheek. She had no one now, her dear mother has passed away, and her father has left her in the grave yard alone. She has no one to turn to, save the angel of music in which her mother had promised to send to her. She heard this voice echoing from all around her, repeating,
"I am your angel of music, come to me angel of music…"
She sincerely hoped that it was her angel, considering she needed someone to comfort her, and who better than the angel of music? She looked up to the ominous grey sky and began to sing in a down kind of depressed voice:
"Who is this who speaks to me...? This strange new voice… what does it want from me... will I have a choice? And though I can not see, I know it's there, my angel of music is there, watching me cry…"
A young cloaked figure hid aside a large crypt, watching Chloe as she sang in her beautiful, sad voice, an angelic voice. He watched her tears fall and was angered at who could have possibly wanted to make an angel such as she cry. He sang quietly as he watched her place the rose back down on the tombstone:
"You soon will come to me, to be a student of mine. That's all I ask of you, and that your choice defines… your beauty and your voice… will soon be mine. Your angel of music is there, watching you cry…"
He watched as Chloe turned from her mother's grave and walking towards the grave yard exit, headed towards the only home she knew, as she sang:
"Angel of music guide and guardian, give to me your glory. Show to me how great your passions, help me through my troubles…"
The young cloaked boy listened as her voice trailed off into the distance. He turned and headed towards the burnt opera house. He was feeling pity for that poor angelic creature, which had been promised so much, but given so little. He had heard Erik speak of one Christine Daae, and had even asked him to place a rose upon her grave. He had also spoken of another, of which he had only known of, yet hasn't seen. Chloe De Chagny.
The Young boy entered the opera house, the auction had long been over, and there were no worries of anyone being around. He made his way down to the dampened cellars, or passageways. The boy stepped onto a small boat, which had somehow made it through the fire. He rowed the boat down the long passage. Candles lit the pass with a dim glow, and golden statues of naked ladies lined the walls. The passage was coming to an end, and looking ahead many more candles became visible. You could see the swirling mist upon the large glassy lake. And soon a large platform came into view, upon it was a large organ, a desk, a desk with many papers strewn across it a disheveled manner and many mirrors, well actually about four. To the right of the organ there was a stone staircase leading to another room. The boy stepped off the boat and onto the platform, traveling briskly up the staircase to see an older man lying in a swan shaped bed.
He stood next to the bed looking down at the dying man, and said in a soft, sad tone, "Father… I have done as you have said…" The man looked up, a slight relief passing through his dull eyes. The boy saw this, and a small smirk played across his pale lips. The older man sat up smiling. Although he smiled with such emphasis that it almost seemed that he had not smiled in years.
The older man stood and hobbled towards the staircase, stopping just at the edge of the staircase he turns. He pulled at a red velvet curtain revealing the porcelain model of Christine in a wedding dress. He began to speak, almost expecting the boy to have followed him down, and be right behind him, "Son…" the boy walked up behind him, his smirk fading into a frown as the man still continued, "… I am going to hand the opera house over to you. I would like for you to fix it up…" The boy looked surprised for a moment, but said nothing in return as the man had more to say, "I want you to hire new managers, and take over as the opera ghost…" he paused taking in a sharp breath, "I will hand to you my old cape…" The man walked over to his organ ad picked up a flowing black cape. The man pulled it over the boy's shoulder in a majestic manner. The man then sat at his organ, and he played for one last time.
Chloe had finally made her way back to her home. She knocked on the door and came face to face with the butler. With a dull tone she asked, "So… where is my father?" By this time her hair was a mess, and her dress had dirt all over it, and she felt very, very stressed. The butler could see this, and said in his saddest tone, "Monsieur De Chagny… has committed suicide…" Chloe stood in awe; this was most shocking to her. She never expected anything this dramatic, or sad. She turned her back on the butler and went towards the one place both her mother and father had spoken of so much, the old Paris opera house. She walked once again over the cobble stone streets; although this time her walk was a guilty one. The remaining parts of the opera came into view, the grey walls giving that off that 'creepy' kind of vibe.
She walked into the cold building and made her way to the stage. She climbed up onto it and looked at the many rows of dust, cob-webbed seats. She could tell that way back, they were nice seats. How they must have really glowed from the magnificent light beaming down from the grand chandelier. Chloe then heard a faint sound, and she could tell the tune. It was something her mother would sing for her often. She drew in a deep breath and sang loud and beautifully:
"We're past the point of no return, no backward glances our games of make believe are at an end. Past the point of if or when, no use resisting abandon thought, let the dream descend…"
Within the dark cellar walls her soft voice could be heard faintly as Erik played the organ. This made him play like he had never played before, beautifully, powerfully, and with such precision. The boy stood next to the organ looking at Erik, and just watched in amazement as Erik began to speak to him, "Retrieve her for me…" The boy nodded to him and carefully followed the voice to the stage. He recognized her from the cemetery, and at the moment he stood listening to her sing. He let her voice wash over himself as he pulled his mask on, moving right in front of her. All she felt that she could say was, "W-who are you?" He walks towards her a smirk adorning his lips as he spoke in a calm tone, "My dear… I am you angel of music…"