Disclaimer: I do not own the Phantom of the Opera in any way
Yay! 9 reviews! Thanks a bunch to all of you readers who take the time to sit and read and even comment back as I update each chapter.
Oh, and in this chapter, you'll start to see Erik's true colors (especially as a dog) in personality and actions. Yeah, with Raoul coming into the picture and issues with folks like Carlotta, Andre, and Firmin, you'll start to see that he's really not that nice little lapdog he seems to be from the last 5 chapters. Enjoy, and R&R!
2 hours before Hannibal
Carlotta sat jittery in her luxurious armchair as she glanced around her room with suspicion. Was she going mental? Was she losing her mind? All these different thoughts started to come into her mind as she recalled all of the bizarre happenings that occurred today….
Expecting the new managers to come to her dressing room door, pleading and begging for her to return, she idled the spare time away by brushing her hair while looking at her beautiful self in the mirror. Soon, she heard knocking on her door, and smirked as she arose from her seat. She put on a fake sad face, and opened her door. As she was about to speak, she discovered nobody was there. Disappointed, she closed the door. Next, a voice taunted her from every angel. "Carlotta must be taught to act, not her normal way of strutting around the stage." the voice teased as Carlotta became a bit intimidated, but tried to shrug the voice off by pretending she did not hear it.
Again, she started to brush her hair. Then, as she glanced to the right side of the mirror, she saw an almost all black haired (except for a little white around the eye) dog snarling angrily at her. Carlotta turned around to find nothing of the sort behind or surrounding her. To reassure herself, she sighed and continued on to brush her hair. Next, she heard another series of knocks banging on her door. A bit annoyed now, she arose as before to answer it to find once again, nobody was there. Carlotta groaned, and slammed the door shut. Before she walked back to her chair, the voice came back again. "Carlotta must be taught to act, not her normal way of strutting around the stage!" the voice taunted as Carlotta searched the room frantically. "It's nothing!" she assured herself, as she resumed her brushing.
Carlotta reminded herself to remain calm, as she desperately tried to ignore the same dog snarling at her in the mirror. Three more knocks came at the door, causing Carlotta to jump, and almost fall out of her chair. Shaking, she opened the door to find nobody there! "Carlotta must be taught to act, not her normal way of strutting around the stage!" the voice teased, returning to haunt the unstable Carlotta once more.
Carlotta was scared out of her wits. Insanely, she started to scream at the top of her lungs as she sprinted over to her tarnished, wooden desk. Roughly, she threw everything out of it, searching and searching and searching until she found what she was looking for.
Hurrying, she ripped apart the tissue around the item to finally reveal a frighteningly pale porcelain doll the diva had received from her aunt in Spain three years ago for her birthday. Carlotta lifted the doll up with her left hand, and she shielded her face with her other hand and screamed, "I always knew this doll was possessed! Evil spirits, take her! Please, forgive me and don't hurt me!" Suddenly, the prima donna's left hand became so sweaty that she dropped the doll on the floor, shattering it to many little pieces. "Nooo!" Carlotta yelled out, as she turned around to get her puppy. Suddenly, she gasped as she realized her puppy was bright pink!
"Ahhhhhh!" Carlotta screamed as she ran to get somebody for help. A few moments later, Carlotta returned with her maid, Gerturelle, to show the bright pink dog. "Andtherewerevoicesandknocksandvoodoodollsandspirits" Carlotta mumbled crazily to the confused maid, as she pulled angrily at her own red hair. Suddenly, the maid frowned, as she picked up a letter from Carlotta's desk. "I hate to make accusations, Senora, but it was you who dyed your puppy's fur to begin with" the maid replied, as she handed the letter to Carlotta to read. The letter said:
To Carlotta Guidicelli:
Here is the bright pink animal fur dye you requested for your pooch. Best of luck using it!
Sincerely,
Veterinarian Pierre de Smithe'
Then, the maid handed Carlotta a pair of gloves, stained with pink dye, and embroidered with elegant script letters reading: Carlotta Guidicelli. Carlotta couldn't believe this! Had she herself really dyed her pooch pink? "I'm sorry to bother you, Gerturelle. Could you please just bring me my dinner?" Carlotta responded. The maid gave a nod and left the room. "That woman is such a psycho…" Gerturelle muttered under her breath.
Now, Carlotta was quietly finishing her supper of chocolate and bread. Finally, she finished, and walked outside of her room with a few coins. She saw another maid, and gestured for her to come over. "I want you to watch the performance of Hannibal tonight, and report back to me immediately, got that?" she commanded, as the maid sheepishly agreed. Now that her work was finished, she strolled very slowly down the hallway to her dressing room.
Meanwhile, the audience of the night was starting to arrive in their fancy, elaborate carriages. As they climbed up the grand, marble Paris Opera staircase, which let to the velvety, gold influenced auditorium of course, the crowd gossiped rapidly back and forth to one another. "The new managers and patron will be attending tonight, I heard the patron is richer than the previous one!" one woman said. "I heard that La Carlotta refused to perform tonight!" another whispered. The dukes greeted the countesses, all dressed in gowns of extreme finery, and filled with the suspense of this night. Suddenly, the lights dimmed, as the audience gasped with delight. Hannibal was about to begin.
2 minutes before "Think of Me", Christine's solo scene of Hannibal
Christine felt so gorgeous in her glowing, glittery costume. The costume designers had used an older, plainer gown from another opera years ago to create this dress. It seemed to be perfect, fitting her every curve. Nervously, Christine swallowed the lump in her throat, for the orchestrations were hinting the arrival of her scene in a matter of seconds. Then, a stagehand gave her the cue to go onto the stage, and Christine started to walk, as Meg gave her a thumb up and Madame Giry mouthing, "You can do it"
She stood in the center of the stage, awaiting the red, velvety curtain to open. In a matter of a few moments, she was revealed to the audience. If you listened carefully, you could her the soft, soft whispers. Who is this new singer? Was she the new prima donna of the Paris Opera?
The beginning of aria had announced its arrival, as the gently flowing piano introduction played through the auditorium.
"Well, here it is, Angel" she whispered under her breath, as she breathed in preparation for the first note of the song.
Think of me, Think of me fondly
When we've said good-bye
Imagine me, once in a while
Please promise me you'll try
The audience started to smile in amazement. They had never heard such a pure, angelic voice in all of their lifetime. They anticipated something great from this new voice, as they stared at the stage with wide eyes.
When you find, that once again you long
To take your heart back and be free
If you ever find, a moment
Spare a though for me
Christine smiled wider, as the audience became even more dazzled by her performance. Oh, how she hoped her angel was proud of her!
Meanwhile, Erik listened intently from his underground lair in a perfect spot right under the orchestra. His angel was doing so well, for she would definitely become the prima donna after this performance that her father, and he himself had always believed she had the potential for. As Christine sung more, he could tell she was putting more and more emotion into her performance, which made her sing even closer to how an angel from heaven would. Needing and wanting more, he straightened up and put his ear close to the ceiling.
We never said, our love was evergreen
Or as unchanging as the sea
But if you can still remember
Stop and Think of Me
Christine felt so many presences as she sang more into the aria. She felt the present of the audience, listening to her voice with surprisingly fascinating expressions. She felt the presence of her Angel, watching over her from the heavens. Finally, she felt the presence of her father, in her memory, saying to her right before his death, "You will triumph with you voice for the whole world!"
This made her start to cry, putting more and more emotion into the song.
Erik saw she was crying as she sang, by the way the stage was vibrating softly. "The angel sees, the angel knows," he said to himself. Suddenly, he started to smirk, remembering how he tormented that Carlotta woman. With a little ventriloquism and illusions, he made that woman think see was crazy (which reassured him that she would not return before the performance to take the lead again). Although, it was pretty funny watching her stomp and yell about some nonsense with a doll she had. Perhaps, she secretly was a little insane, out of the spotlight.
Think of all the things we've shared and seem Don't think about the way things might have been Think of me, think of me wakingSilent and resigned,
Imagine me, trying to hard to put you from my mind
Raoul De Chagny stared astonished and amazed that this beautiful prima donna was nonetheless than his best childhood friend, Christine Daae. Oh, what happy days they had together, playing on the shores of Trestraou! Of course, he could never forget the one-day he rescued her little scarf from the sea.
It was hot, sunny summer day, and the Vicomte, none less that Raoul, made his governess take a long walk. He was on a vacation to visit his aunt, and found himself drawn to a sweet, brown, curly haired little girl who sang each morning on the beach with her violinist father. Over the past two weeks, the two children became close playmates, meeting each other everyday to beg from house to house looking for a story, or something else of the sort.
On this particular day though, the two decided to take a stroll along the shore. Suddenly, an unexpectant breeze blew over, capturing Christine's red scarf and releasing it into the sea. Christine gave out a cry, but released it was too late to retrieve it. Disappointed, for that scarf was her favorite of them all, she signed and said, "Oh well" Soon though, she realized Raoul was not besides her, but running as fast as he could into the sea to retrieve her scarf. In a few moments, Raoul returned, soaked to the bone with the scarf in his small hands. Laughing, unlike the governess who was quite upset, the delighted, happy little girl gave him a sweet kiss on the cheek, and thanked him for rescuing her scarf.
"Little Lotte, you have grown up to be such an angel!" the young fellow thought to himself, absorbed in his trance of Christine.
Recall those daysLook back on all those times
Think of the things we'll never do
There will never be a day when
I won't think of you
Overcome by her presence and performance, Raoul De Chagny awkwardly applauded too early, causing some people to look up at him strangely. To calm down, he went outside of his box to get some fresh air in the entrance. Was this really Christine? It seemed so long ago that they were just innocent little children. She may not remember him, but he remembered her.
Erik gave a silent curse to that new patron, Christine's childhood "sweetheart", Raoul De Chagny. That boy was so quirky and goofy, what could she possibly see in that lad? He looked also like he had an infatuation with… interesting clothing, seeing before the performance that he had come in with a green, ruffled necktie. Erik had to show Christine his home, his world beneath the opera where night prevailed all day long. His angel…
Outside the opera, a large, fancy carriage stood in front of the outside entrance. Inside, was nonetheless than the spoiled, conceited lead soprano of the opera, Carlotta Guidicelli, along with the lead tenor, Piangi. "I'm not going to let a few ridiculous chorus boys scare me so much as to not leave my room!" she had exclaimed to Piangi before, as they went inside and rode around to the front. "Although we must be back soon, for I have somebody I am expecting after the performance" she reminded him, referring to the spy she sent to nosy about at tonight's Hannibal performance. Little did the diva know, that a new prima donna was stunning the crowd inside, the audience not caring where Carlotta was or when she was returning, if ever.
Flowers fade, the fruits of summer fadeThey have their seasons, so do we
But please promise that sometimes
You will think…
"This is for you,father!" she thought, as she poured her heart into the final cadenza. Finally, at the end, she sang the best final note she could for all everyone, alive and deceased to hear.
Of me!The song finished with a mighty end, and suddenly the audience went wild. Some people were sobbing; heart struck by her every note. Others were filled with glee, applauding as loud as they could, until their hands were bright red. Christine turned to the right of the stage to see Meg and the other ballerinas excitedly and happily applauding her, with bright grins on their faces. Even the stagehands were yelling from the rafters, "Brava! Brava!" A wide grin spread across Christine's face.
Meanwhile, Carlotta stopped talking outside to listen. She heard something from inside the Opera House… it was applause! Shocked that the performance was such a success without her, she fainted onto the unfortunate Piangi's chest.
Erik was very, very proud of Christine. What a triumph she had on the stage! Quickly, so he could remain unseen by any suspicious people, he dashed through the dark, silent rafters, wet and damp from the occasionally overflowing lake. Taking a final look around, he unslid the mirror, and stepped into Christine's dressing room. On her desk, he left her a single red rose; carefully tied with a thick, black ribbon. "A present from the angel" was what he called it.
"Brava, Brava, Bravisima!" he recited smoothly, causing the new singer, or should we say prima donna, to look up to the ceiling of her father's chapel as she prayed, hearing her angel's voice from many rooms away.
Everyone rejoiced, for there was a new Margarita in Paris now.
Whew! I think this was my longest chapter ever, lol! Please, please review!