Disclaimer: The Phantom of the Opera was originally written by Gaston Leroux or something like that, and I in no way shape, fashion, or form own his characters or the captivating music created by the man who did such a splendid job on Cats The musical…you get the picture.
Thank you kindly for the reviews! I promise to update a chapter every three days if I get a review every day or two! Even if the review is insulting my fruitcake or something! Love ya!
The Phantom of the Opera II
Part V
The Phantom paced around his majestic music room, his satin cape flying behind his angrily. It had been almost two years since he had ventured to the surface. When he finally did, it was only to replenish is dwindling stock of food and wine. He hadn't anticipated any new occupants in his home. The fire and the rumors should have seen to that.
Now that he was aware of his new "manager" and the new inhabitants, any noise they made traveled the length of the five stories below to daunt him and provoke him to listen behind the walls. Some of his best passageways had been blocked up, but most were still there, as well as a few new ones he could use.
He stopped pacing for a moment and threw himself onto his wooden bench. The lingering trace of that Ballet rat Meg still lingered in his home, and with her scent came the painful memories of Christine. Christine…oh how I hope you never return to this. Curse you…damn you…
He slammed his fist on the old organ that he had recently moved back to his Music room. A chilling angry note pored into the room, and he let it wipe his mind blank before he gently removed his calloused hand.
After a while, he threw a warmer cloak on and turned to leave. He planned on seeing the rehearsal for his Opera. AT one time it would have angered him past bilief, for he wished no one but the select few to know of his existence, but now it amused him. The whole thing amused him. He had nothing to keep him in check, for he feared no one seeking him out.
If everyone wished to beilve he was dead, then they could be unpleasantly surprised when he returned. He lsot Christine, his peace, his way of life. The least they could give him as his quiet. "If that damnable Persian would remove himself from my business, then I could extract my revenge more immediately," He muttered.
As he moved into a tunnel leading to the stage, he took a moments pleasure in thinking a forbidden thought about Christine. It had been so long since he had felt sorrow about her departure. Now, he felt cruel rage, and when he did let her innocent face enter his mind, he wished nothing but pain and torture on her. I do indeed hope you never return here, Christine. For it surly will bring you misery and oh so much pain… He laughed, and disappeared into the darkness.