The Perfect Solution
An Alternate Universe – Phantom of the Opera Story
Nyasia A. Maire
© 2007
DISCLAIMER: I do not hold the rights nor did I create any characters found in The Phantom of the Opera or Phantom, nor have I received monetary compensation for writing this story.
The Sick Rose
O Rose, thou art sick!
The invisible worm
that flies in the night,
in the howling storm.
Has found out thy bed
of crimson joy
and his dark secret love
does thy life destroy.
William Blake
Chapter Four – Her Life as a Ghost
"Meg is performing right now, so I can disappear for a short time without anyone noticing or caring where I go. I can have my moment of solitude. Blessed Jesus, thank you!"
The girl quickly made her way through the backstage passages and then turned down one of the darker corridors. The dusty floor and the cobwebs hanging from the ceiling told the tale better than words that the room at the end of this hall was one not regularly frequented by the inhabitants of the opera house. However, this room was the one place Christine felt somewhat at peace. For, if her father chose not to send the Angel of Music to her, here at least there were angels painted on the walls and a reliquary that provided her a place to light a candle and offer to God her prayers for her poor, dearly departed Papa.
♥ ♫ ♥ ♫ ♥
It was here in the unused chapel, Christine first discovered the secret passageways that ran throughout the opera house.
The day began much as any other, she awoke, dressed and went to the kitchen where she ate her breakfast. She reported to Madame and she had no errands, so she reported to Monsieur Reyer, but he had nothing for her to do either. It was still too early to report to the kitchen and not late enough to report to the stables, so she found herself drifting in the direction of the chapel, as she was oft times want to do. She lit a candle, knelt on the rough stone floor and bowed her head in silent prayer. All too soon, the tears began to trickle down her cheeks dripping from her chin and onto the floor. From time to time, she kept an eye on the candle she lit so she would know how long she had been there. Her eyes roamed about the room at last settling on the solemn figure of the angel. She had begun her prayers in earnest then and was beginning to become lost in her memories of her Papa when the sound of hushed voices intruded upon her consciousness. She heard a male and a female voice speaking to one another and they seemed to be drawing near to her sanctuary. A feeling of panic spread through the girl's body and she wildly looked about the room. Other than the arched entryway of the chapel, the reliquary, the candles, the painted angels, the stained glass angel and a black, metal grate were the only visible choices of possible escape. As the voices seemed almost upon her, she had no time to ponder her options. She hurried to the grate and pulled. She could not make it budge, so she turned to the stained glass window. For reasons still unknown to her to this day, Christine ran her fingertips along the edge of the frame and felt a small switch. She flipped the switch and the window began to swing in, away from her. She caught it, opened it enough for her to step through and then pushed it closed behind her.
And that, as they say, was that.
Over the years, she became extremely adept at discovering the hidden mechanisms, which controlled the various portals leading into and out of her secret world. The passages helped her complete her errands quicker and at the same time hid her from the ballet rats and their unceasing teasing. She knew that the passages led downwards as well, but never did she have time to explore nor did she particularly care to go downwards for she knew that the cellars were vast. She saw no benefit in extending her knowledge there, until she became bored with the passages above.
♥ ♫ ♥ ♫ ♥
On this night, as Christine lit her customary candle and knelt to the rough floor to pray, a flash of light caught her attention. Her eyes drawn to the stained glass angel and the sight, which met her gaze, caused her to gasp. Whether it was a trick of the light or an actual vision, her familiar angel's face appeared strange and alien to her eyes. The left side of the angel's face was just as it had always been, stern and beautiful. However, the right side of the face now appeared deformed. Its eye socket sunken, its nose slightly flattened, the angel had no eyebrow and the skin of its cheek and forehead was lumpy. She blinked in surprise and then rubbed her eyes, but when she returned her eyes to the angel, she saw her old, familiar friend once more. However, the angelic visage brought her no comfort and she stood, quickly backing her way out of the room. As soon as she was certain her feet had left the room, she began to run away from the chapel. Her feet had not carried her more than a few yards when her mind ordered them to halt.
"What in the world is wrong with me? For years, I have prayed that father's angel would appear to me. Now, tonight, I receive a sign and I run away? No, I think not! Papa, please do not take back the angel! Papa! Angel! I am coming!"
She turned and ran back to the chapel. Hesitating only the slightest of moments to gather her courage, she brought her eyes to gaze upon the angel. Her breath caught in her throat, for now the sight, which met her brought tears of joy to her eyes.
"Papa!" She breathed.
The visage of the stained glass angel before her was once again transformed into that of a being both beautiful and terrible. Half of darkness, half of light, but all beautifully and angelically divine. An angel that was hers and hers alone. Before her was the face of her Angel of Music. Or, was it? Something about the face seemed too human to be that of an angel, too sensual. She studied the fullness of the lips, the slight cleft of the chin, the burning orbs of deep, emerald green.
"No. Here is the face of a man. A man that the Angel of Music chose to guide me back onto the path of sweet music."
She knew not why or where the thought originated, but it brought her greater comfort than the idea of an angel visiting her. An angel that would leave her once its duty to her was done.
"A man who allows me to once again hear the music of life, the music of my soul. Oh! Thank you, Papa. Thank you, Angel."
She gazed long and hard at the image of the man, his face committed permanently into her memory.
"It would not do to see him and not recognize him. Not after waiting all this time. No, it would not do at all."
She thought wryly.
Smiling for the first time in years, she turned and left the chapel to return to the world of the living in the opera house. The young woman began to hum softly then the humming became words. Her voice, rough at first, quickly grew beautiful and strong as she lifted her song of thanks to the heavens.
"Angel of Music, you have promised,
a man to come walk beside me.
Angel of Music, long I've wandered,
lost and alone in darkness.
Now you have shown me the path,
which I am bound to take.
Please Angel, do not deceive me,
for my heart will break.
Angel of Music, guide and guardian,
grant to me your glory.
Angel, I promise to keep watch,
I will not shun your promise.
Please Angel, send him to me soon,
too long I've wandered alone.
Please Angel, do not forget me,
or my soul will die."
As she drew nearer to the inhabited places of the opera house, her singing ceased and the humming resumed. As soon as she saw one of the stagehands, even her humming ceased. Yet, her brown eyes were no longer dull and lifeless, but brilliant and radiated life. The young woman walked tall and proud, no longer the creeping, timid Opera Ghost. She returned to the bench where Meg and she always met and sat. She leaned her back against the wall and closed her eyes. A small smile curled her lips. After a moment, she began to hum again. Her feet, which did not quite touch the floor, began to swing in time to her song. Oblivious of the swarming mass of humanity, which rushed about her, she examined the face of the man behind her closed lids and her smile grew. One of the stagehands paused as he saw the young woman on the bench.
"Excuse me, Mademoiselle? Are you supposed to be here?"
He gently began. The sound of her laughter cut off his words and she replied.
"Joseph, gentle Joseph! Do you not recognize me? It is I, Christine Daae! You and I have known each other for years. Your kind wife has even given me her old dresses. Surely, Joseph, you must recognize me!"
He stepped back from the radiant form who sat laughing before him. He stammered an apology and almost ran from her presence.
"Indeed, she is Christine Daae, but she is possessed. Whether it be by heaven or hell, I know not, but surely, this girl is possessed. God save her! God save us all!"
The Master of the Flies climbed back up to his rigs and gazed down upon the still laughing girl in wonder and more than just a little fear.
"Please, Lord, do not let what little of her mind is left be gone. The Managers will confine her. Please, Lord?"
With a shake of his head, he returned to his post and tried to put the sight and sound of the strange girl from his mind. He told no one of his strange encounter with Christine Daae. Unfortunately, others who saw her that night were not as kind. All too soon, word began to spread of Christine's strange, happy demeanor. As word made its way to the ballet dormitories, the young ballerinas began to plot new torments for the strange girl.
At last, Christine realized the ballet was over and she opened her eyes to look for Meg. She brushed a lock of her long, brown curls from her face and leaned forward as she searched for the slender, blonde ballerina. Her gaze alighted upon the form of her friend and she called to her.
"Meg! Over here! I am over here!"
The petite girl had a towel thrown over her shoulder and carried a bouquet of lilies and daffodils in the crook of one arm. She walked as if she were still performing a scene from the ballet as she still wore her pointe shoes. She walked arm-in-arm with Raoul, her eyes only left his face long enough to acknowledge Christine's greeting. The two made their way to the bench and Christine looked at the couple before her. For the first time, she saw the love they had for one another and she felt a deep happiness for them. She bounced to her feet as they approached.
"Meg! Raoul! Hello! How was the ballet? Is Meg not the best dancer of them all?"
She threw her arms around Meg and hugged her tightly. Then releasing the stunned girl, she turned to Raoul and gave him a quick hug as well. The couple stood staring at the normally reticent girl with mouths agaped. Then a voice from behind the couple spoke and Christine froze. The rich, baritone voice caressed her ears and sent delightful shivers up and down her spine.
"So, Raoul. Is this your little Lotte?"
The voice paused, waited for a response and confused at his companions sudden silence, inquired.
"Raoul? Are you well? Meg? Is something wrong?"
The man's face appeared over Raoul's shoulder and Christine looked into the face of the man promised by her angel.
The world fell away as the man and the woman stared intently at one another, a strange sense of recognition flashed between them and then they smiled at one another.
As the brilliance of the man's green eyes threatened to drown her in their familiar beauty, Christine succumbed to their pull and found herself spinning away into a world of emerald darkness.
And then, for a time, she knew no more.
Author's Note: The lyrics to "Angel of Music" (except for the line "Angel of Music, guide and guardian grant to me your glory") are my own creation or re-working of the original. The music, of course, is not.
Please read and review … you must, please! I've become addicted to your reviews! --ny