Disclaimer: I still don't own any aspect of the Phantom of the Opera, or any of its characters. Ask anyone.
In all actuality, I found myself enjoying the carnival more than I'd anticipated. It was a small, squalid affair, this carnival was, but I didn't know that. I'd never even been away from the estate before. To me it was a grand and glittering thing. I saw tumblers and contortionists, I had my fortune read, and ate BonBons for the first time in my life. How pitiful to have been deprived of such a wonderful confection! It is fortunate that BonBons are not easily acquired here in the underground. If they were, I fear I'd be both fat and toothless, for they are still one of my greatest weaknesses.
No one seemed to pay much attention to the poorly clad boy with a mask over his face. Perhaps they just assumed that I was one of the carnival troupe. I certainly did not resemble a young Vicomte.
I was leaning against a wall, enjoying my box of sweets, when a small furry hand blurred by the corner of my eye, and snatched a bonbon from me. Startled I quickly spun around and glanced upward. There, on the top of the wall crouched a monkey, greedily devouring his stolen treat. I had not much opportunity to laugh in my lifetime, but I laughed then. Enchanted by the tiny rogue, I began to coax him down from his perch with another sweet. The monkey did not need a great deal of coaxing, and soon he was on my shoulder, stuffing his little mouth full. That is what my father saw, when he finally caught up with me. He chuckled quietly, and said that if I liked the monkey, he would buy it for me. I looked at him incredulously. I knew the man despised me. I could not think of why after all of this time, he'd suddenly become so kindly to me. But, as the wind was blowing in my favor presently, I decided to take advantage of it. I forced a smile to my lips, and nodded. Yes. I wanted the monkey.
My father walked a distance away to where two men were standing. He engaged in conversation with them, and although I could not hear what they were saying, I saw that they kept glancing my way. There seemed to be some disagreement for a while between the larger of the two and my father. However, when a large, fat purse joined the argument, the man smiled, and some sort of accord seemed to have been reached. They talked quite a bit longer, and finally my father broke away and returned to me.
The monkey's name was Rollo, he explained, and he was now mine. Rollo's old owner was quite fond of him, my father said, and wanted to make sure the little fellow would be taken care of. We were to meet him over by the side show, where he would teach me some things about Rollo, and say goodbye to him. I looked up at my new pet, and smiled. I thanked my father. What an idiot I was.
The sideshow was a tawdry collection of tattered tents. There was little activity , and the only people I saw were obviously working there. As we made our way deeper into the little encampment, I heard a voice calling to us. I looked around and spied the monkey's owner peering at us from an open tent door. He grinned and beckoned us to come inside. My father pointed out to me that it was my monkey now, and bid me to go inside by myself. He said he'd be waiting outside.
I have learned over the years to trust my intuition, and it has saved my life on numerous occasions. At the time, however, I was only ten years of age, and not accustomed to hearing that inner voice. Everything suddenly felt wrong.. I shouldn't be there, and I shouldn't be going into that tent, I knew. An indescribable feeling of dread came over me, but I shrugged it off. After all, it was broad daylight. What could happen?
And so, I walked into the tent. As I stood letting my eyes adjust to the gloom, I heard a voice behind me. "Bon Jour, little Vicomte!" it said. I felt a sharp pain in the back of my head, and everything sparkled and then went black.
I awakened some time later with the most agonizing pain in my head. I tried to move but found I was bound hand and foot. There was a filthy rag tied around my mouth, and worst of all, my mask was gone. I could hear voices near me, although the ringing in my head was so loud that I could not make out what they were saying at first. Gradually my head cleared, and I was able to follow the conversation. My captor, who I gathered was called Gaspard, seemed more than a little drunk, and quite pleased with himself. He'd made a fortune that day, he bragged. He'd been paid handsomely to take away garbage, and now he would turn that garbage into treasure! He now had a brand new attraction for his show, he said, one that was sure to pack in the crowds. Another, more worried voice asked if he'd considered what would happen if the law was brought into the matter. Gaspar laughed uproariously. That was the beauty of it all, he chortled. The old man promised that the law would be kept out of it completely, as long as it was certain that he'd never have to look at the little monstrosity again!
It was then I realized who they were talking about, and who was responsible for my present situation. Hot tears of anger and shame poured down my face. That bastard! That pig! I cried myself dry in the darkness, and they were the last tears I shed for over twenty years. My childhood ended that night.
Hey...I just want to thank people for their kind words and encouragement. Reviews are always welcome. I don't get bent out of shape about constructive criticism, either. (Of course, compliments are never turned down! ;D)