Fate
The aged man was slumped in his chair, limbs falling over each side of the threadbare arms ungracefully. A near empty bottle was clutched into one shaking hand, making a repetitive journey to the mouth of the deteriorated man. Another shaky hand glided through greasy hair, black in colour with sizable patches of slate grey.
The man mumbled a curse under his breath as he noticed the little alcohol still within the bottle, alcohol soothed his jittery nerves and provided an escape from reality, for a little while at least.
Sighing, he steps out of his chair, stumbling towards the bleak window on the other side of the room. The room itself was blackened with ash, with little furniture left in it after the thieves had broken into the remains of the once grand opera house. The office was his solace now, a reminder of happier days.
I would rather pay his salary than have this, he thought, laughing hysterically at the irony of his retrospective thought.
Firmin had certainly deteriorated along with the opera house. His haggard appearance had scared of any potential visitors and his maniacal laughter would scare away even the blackest of spirits, perhaps even the elusive O.G. himself.
He found it oddly satisfying that the Phantom's body had never been found, the crowd had assumed him dead and moved on, but he knew better. The man had been running from the law for over twenty years and it would take more than two dozen theatre workers to take him.
André had moved on from the Opera house, using his savings from their scrap metal business to fend away debts and take his position back in the company. He was living comfortably now in Toulouse with his wife and their three children. However, he had not been that lucky, he had gambled his own livelihood on the opera house.
He had first visited the grand building on his ninth birthday, a gift from his Maman. He never did forget the bright colours of the stage, the lush sounds of the orchestra combined with the strong voices of the chorus. He never did forget it, and was drawn towards the Opera Populaire once he found the ad looking for a new manager. He was immensely surprised when he found the position still open and at once set about convincing André to become his partner there.
Sighing, he picked up the length of rope that was slung carelessly over a nail next to the glassless window. His shaking limbs made it hard to climb the chair and tie one end to the rafters, and his jittery hands hindering his progress.
Slowly he tied the other end into a strong noose, one that would pull him from the world he had cornered himself into, one that would take him away from the horrors of the burnt opera house.
Forgive me Maman, he thought as he slipped his head into the noose.
"Goodbye Monsieur Phantom, you win." He whispered as he kicked the chair out from underneath him, ending his life with a sickening snap.
He was still swinging when discovered him a month later.
……………………
Urgh, how morbid am I? He was still swinging because of the wind from the open window in case anyone is wondering.
Lol. I always wondered what happened to the managers and this is my take on it.
I hope you enjoyed (as much as you could, lol) this.
M.P.
