Epilogue
Chirstine, Erik, and their daughter Athena lived in the house for years. It wasn't until the last days of Christine's life that Erik felt alone again. His daughter had left to go live with her husband, who ironcially turned out to be the Viscount de Changy, or Charles. Christine died in peace but Erik lived on, to see theOpera House that he remembered, one last time...
"Lot 666...a chandileir in pieces. This is the exact chandileir from the events of the strange affair of the Phantom of the Opera. It was a mystery never fully explained. We're told that this has had the addition of electricity and will light any ball room to its fullest. My I start the bidding at...100 fracs?" Many people bidded on the damaged chandileir. It must have been the children of the parents who had watched the disatirous event occur. The final bidder was...Athena. She had come just for the event. She was quite old now; 45 and didn't have her husband at her side. It didn't matter...
Erik watched as the his daughter carried the slip of paper away to the field of the auction and then left his box for the very last time. The years had taken their toll on the poor man. He struggled with the tasks he was once so good at but that didn't stop him from writting music. He wrote three other operas after the death of his wife and had them with the rest of his collection. He was a talented man who was just another face on the street theses days.
He arrived at the grave yard late that spring evening. The trees were just recieveing their leaves and the grass was beginning to get brighter in color. He looked around at the other graves as he walked toward his desination. It had been so long since he had visited her grave; almost too long. He had wanted to wait until her beloved opera house regained its' company before seeing her again.
He reached the grave and sat down by it and prayed, "Christine, if you still lurk with the angels, sing for them...sing for me." He looked at the picture on the tomb stone. She was still so young when she went. Their daughter...only a small child; too small to understand the cause of the death.
He looked at the dates: 1854-1885. Very young to have died. He swept his hand over the large gravestone. It was the only thing he could have remembered her by. The memories and the marker. He set the rose with his old trade mark, a black ribbon, along side the grave. It carried her wedding ring along with his.
"Never forget..." It was their daughter. She must have wanted to remember. She calmly walked the grave and sat where her father sat. She noticed the small momento and picked it up. She remembered finding them all over whenever she finished a recital at the house; Erik taught Athena how to play all the instruments, including her voice. She turned out to be mezzo soprano. She sang like an angel and played beautifully as well.
" Father used to speak of the angel he once was, mother. Please tell me about him...when I reach you." She turned away and left, brushing a tear away from her cheek. Erik returned to his postition at the tombstone and talked once more"I will see you shortly, my angel. Very shortly."
Fin