Chapter 2! The last contest goes for this chapter as well. Winner and correct answer will be announced next week with the next upload.
"Nowhere to be found. The guard are out looking as well," said a voice outside the room I was in. What room was I in? It had dark wood floors and stone brick walls, not the tile floors and brick walls of the school. "Well she only went backstage, maybe she wandered into the catwalks," replied a younger sounding voice. Both had accents sounding Parisian. I thought to myself that the rooms style also looks Parisian. So did the dress that I was now wearing. It was white with lace, something worn in early Paris as a semi-formal dress. There was an ornate window that looked at the still rising moon. At the most it had been 2 hrs since the chandelier fell. And the rafters. And my dignity. The door creaked open to show two people, a young girl and a women in her mid-thirties or forties. The girl looked around sixteen, my age. The older women came in with a glass of water.
"Oh, are you alright? We found you backstage," she fussed. The girl introduced herself as Meghan Giry, the women Antoinette Giry. "But everyone calls me Mme. Giry," she followed.
"My name is, um," my name is too Italian so I quickly came up with something else."Vienne Denise," I blurted out, realizing after that Vienne Denise was a famous French artist, but they didn't seem to notice. "Now, have you seen a girl with brown eyes and brown curly hair?" asked Madame Giry.
"No, I haven't been around here before. What city is this?" I asked, starting to sit up more.
"Paris. Did a carriage drop you off in the wrong place?" responded and then asked Meg. "Um, yes. I'm from, uhh, Southern France," I managed out. Geography wasn't something I did well.
I heard the voices of two men and a girl with a heavy Italian accent pass the door.
"But I haven't got my costume for act 3, because someone not finish it! And I 'ATE MY 'AT." Screamed the girl.
"But seniora," pleaded the voices. The Giry's sighs could be heard from the next room. Madame Giry explained, "Seniora Carlotta Guidicelli, our leading soprano is a little, demanding," she said before exiting. Meg quickly explained how the house just got new managers as well. She followed her mother, and I followed her. Through the doorway was a stone hallway, and then an area with no organization at all. Props were placed on various stairs and empty bottles of beer, some shattered, were everywhere. We dodged pieces of broken glass to get to a large theatre. Around 19th century France this theatre would be considered highly sophisticated and would bring in a large profit. It was so glorious compared to the obvious mess backstage.
"The Opera Garnier," announced Meg. The best in all of the opera houses, at least, in the 19th century," she finished, proud of where she worked. 19th century, that was the 1800s! It would explain many things, like the names, style, and the fact that they didn't know who Vienne Denise was. She became popular around 1881. However, it created about a hundred more questions. One, how. Two, why. Three, WTF? Then the classic 'Butterfly theory' questions. If I knew the future, and the outcome of this, wait, I didn't know the outcome of this. We had studied France, but at the weekend before the dance we had stopped before learning about the 'Disaster of Paris', and the infamous Opera Garnier. I'm pretty sure that was where I was. I mean, Meg just told me.
"If managers command," sighed Carlotta. "Monsieur Reyer!" She shouted at the orchestra director. He flipped forward in his booklet, "My diva commands". Meg handed me two pieces of cotton and put the other two in her ears. I followed her actions as Carlotta started singing.
"Think of me, Think of me fondly, When we've said goodbye," she enunciated. Through the 'earphones' I could slightly hear how she was 'a bit', pitchy. Apparently someone else agreed. After the third verse a backdrop came toppling onto Carlotta. Meg screamed and Carlotta smacked her hands against the floor yelling UP UP UP. Meg whispered to me, "He's here, the Phantom of the Opera". After what just happened, I assumed the Phantom was a myth that wasn't so much a myth as a terrorist. The former manager demanded the 'chief of the flies' to come.
"He's responsible for this." Buquet came out, pleading innocence.
"This time I'm really leaving!" Carlotta yelled back. The managers left Buquet and followed her backstage, "These things do happen".
"Si, these things do 'appen. Well until you stoppa these things from happening, these things do NOT happen," she accused, "ADIAMO!" And she left. Madame Giry came back in as everyone was worrying about if Carlotta was coming back.
"I have a message sir, from the Opera Ghost," she said, waving a letter.
"Oh god in heaven you're all obsessed," sighed one of the managers.
"He merely welcomes you to his opera house," she continued
"HIS opera house," the other manager, the taller one with Elvis hair, said.
"He would like you to know that Box five is to be kept empty for his use, and reminds you that his salary is due,"
"His salary?!"
"Monsieur Lefevre gave him 20,000 francs a month. Perhaps you could afford more, with the Vicomte de Changy as your patron," she finished, walking back onstage. At the mention of the Vicomte everyone grew exited.
"I had hoped to make that announcement myself when the Vicomte was to join us for the gala, but it seems we will have to cancel, as we have lost our star," the taller manager said.
"A full house Andre, we shall have to refund a full house!" Ah, so the shorter one with white hair was Andre. Madame Giry looked hopeful for one second before realizing something.
"Chri-" Apparently the missing girl was a possible replacement for La Carlotta. Meg turned to me,
"Do you know anybody?" I shook my head. Everyone left to the dormitories. Meg showed me a bed next to hers. I got some clothes and decided to go with the others to ballet practice. During warm-ups I hummed the tune of the aria. Madame Giry seemed to notice me, but I assumed that it was because I was new and could keep up. After class, and three hours before the gala, she called me aside.
"You did well in practice today," she said,"but I also took notice of your humming, do you sing?"
"A bit, the aria is very nice and Hannibal is one of my favorites," I replied.
"Andre and Firmin still haven't called of the gala, would you show me the aria?" She said this with hope. I was unsure. I had not performed in ages, and when I do I get minimal response. Madame Giry seemed to see my upcoming no, and begged,
"Not finalizing anything, just do two verses." I sighed and nodded. The aria, Think of Me, was simple. More sighing, and I began.
"Think of me, think of me fondly when we've said goodbye. Remember me, once in awhile. Please promise me you'll try," the first verses were scratchy and shy, most likely from being out of practice. I straightened my posture and tried to continue.
"When you find that once again you long to take your heart back and be free, if you ever find a moment, spare a thought for me." Everything after that was blurry, but I was given costumes and a script to look over, as I knew the part already. The play went beautifully, and by act three I was in a white dress with hair clips in my long black hair.
"Think of all the things we've shared and seen. Don't think about the way things might have been."
"Flowers fade, the fruit of summer fade, they have their seasons, so do we. But please promise me that sometime you will think...
Ahhhhh Ahhhhhah ahhhhhhhhhhahhhh
Ahhhh of me!" I threw down the white sequined scarf and bowed to some imaginary entity. As I looked up the crowd was on their feet applauding and throwing flowers.
POV Change!;)
After dropping the backdrop and the letter I left, trusting that Madame Giry would explain to the junk dealers how things worked here. Tonight Christine would take the place of Carlotta in Hannibal and receive massive praise. In the next opera she would replace the whining brat and be the Prima Donna. Why did they insist on her performance anyways? But my plan was laid out. As the hours passed and the gala came I noticed a man of high status in my private box, most likely the new patron. I would have to watch from the rafters. I didn't want to ruin Christine's debut. When the curtain opened on the first scene, where Hannibal saved the cities from Rome. Elisa would take the head in her grand entrance and sing 'Hannibal Comes'. She would fall for the war hero, but get separated as he headed for his wedding. The opera ended with Think of Me. As the curtain rose to the battle Piangi, the male Carlotta, lifted his sword to cut off the head of the Roman general. But Christine didn't enter to take the trophy. Instead a girl with long, wavy, black hair and blue eyes came to take the trophy along with Christine's glory. Furious, I went backstage to find where Christine was, instead of onstage. I found Madame Giry, thankfully alone, and demanded an answer.
"Where is Christine?!" She looked at me with an apologetic look on her face as she said,
"Miss Daae is missing. The guard are out looking for her, but she completely disappeared last night. Instead we found Vienne, who is taking her place right now," she left, as did I. Some ballerinas were coming in to change. 'So Vienne is responsible,' I thought to myself. She would be staying in Christine's room, which held the mirror to the underground maze. I stormed down and paced for a while, thinking how to deal with this. As I reached the crack in the ceiling where I could listen to performances, I could hear Think of Me. The end of the song ended in a flourish, and for a moment I could have sworn it was Christine's sweet voice, but this was different. It had a backbone, strong projection, and emotion in contrast to Christine's delicacy. It was refreshing. Maybe I could show her around. I had everything prepared. With a bit of toughness in her it would be harder, but I believed I would manage. Music presented correctly could do anything. I quickly head down into the labyrinth to make some adjustments.
POV Change
As I took my seat in Box Five, the only open box tonight, I looked out at what I was supporting. The Opera Garnier was refined and extravagant. After seeing backstage I had questioned my investment, but this house pulled together when needed. I did not like how the managers let Carlotta trample them, even though they were new. I'm sure they will also pull together when needed. As the curtain came open on the scene the house grew silent. I heard that Carlotta left, and someone was replacing her. This all happened after I had left, so I wasn't aware. As suspected, a girl with black hair came out. She was much better than Carlotta, as she was trained properly. Her voice hit every not correctly and matched the roughness of Piangi.
The opera was beautiful, a great choice by the previous manager. The last song was a favorite for many. I shifted in my seat as the aria came up. The new girl was beautiful, so very beautiful. I decided to pay her a visit afterwards.
POV Change
After the performance Madame Giry led me to my new dressing room.
"I would assume that you are staying."
"It seems so," I replied. The room was currently filled with flowers, most likely from admirers. Madame Giry closed the door to people asking to see me.
"No!" She yelled out at the fanboys. Heh, even Paris has fanboys. She turned around and swiftly picked up a rose tied with a black ribbon. The motions looked natural, but the surprise on her face was clear.
"What's wrong?" I asked.
"H-He would give these to Christine, but, it's just that he knows she isn't here," she stammered. I saw how the rose was old, placed before the show. It had been pushed aside, and in the perfect place for a 'well done' gift, was another rose, blue and glued to a letter with wax. Neither of us had noticed it before. I picked it up and ripped off the blue rose. Inside was a simple piece of paper and a key, but the key was stabbing through the letter, probably dropped in accidentally. Madame Giry left to let me read the letter.
Mon Ange,
Mirror. 12 o'clock tonight. I have some things to discuss with you.
~ Angel of Music
The short letter gave me chills. A grandfather clock in the corner indicated that it was 11:30. I had been here for a whole day. At this point I would assume I was dreaming, but this felt real. Too real for what was going on. A ghost haunting an opera house, the way time moved, and how I was in 2002 a day ago. Alone with my thoughts of escape, I didn't notice the door open. A man with shoulder length brown hair and a crest embroidered on his jacket came in with more flowers.
"Excuse me, I am the new patron, Raoul de Changy. I would like to congratulate you on your debut tonight. At a gala, no less.
"I would like to invite you to a late-night dinner to discuss further performances," he said quickly, as if he was worried. I looked over at the clock, which read 11:45.
"I am sorry, but I have..." I couldn't come up with a viable excuse for not being free at midnight.
"Nonsense, it will just be for a bit, and I will then return you to the dormitories," he persisted.
"I will go get my carriage, and you must change." He exited and closed the door behind him. I was probably imagining it, but I thought I heard the door lock.