Chapter 1. Madam Giry of box five.
The new manager was a smock. His name was Michael Fray. He was forty-four and spent all his time grooming his English mustache and counting his money. He had no concern for opera at all, and instead just let his wife Carlota run the place while he became rich.
Carlota was a brown haired strait out bitch. All she cared about was being the star. She planned to have the opera season in spring and fall, and for her to be the star in all the shows. The worst part was she couldn't sing.
And when I told them about the opera ghost, they lathed at every word
"A private box out of the house's salary and four-hundred francs for a thing that doesn't even exist in real life?" Mr. Fray said to me. "Ridiculous! Why did they do such a thing? It's a good thing I came along when I did, being advanced in the ways of money and all."
"But sir if we don't all sorts of horrid things happen!" I said. "Last time the opera didn't follow the phantom's commands, a singer and a stage hand were found dead in the front row!"
"And when was this?"
"About ten years ago."
"Well that is enough insurance to me that it won't happen again."
"But, sir, ever since then we have followed the phantom's orders."
"Just leave and go back to work."
As he spoke those last words, there was a scream, and we ran to the stage and saw Carlota in a rage, and about two feet in front of her, swaying back and forward slightly, a sandbag.
"Those useless stage hands nearly killed me!"
"Sorry mam!" The stage hand, Joseph, said. "I looked away and it must have not been secure!"
"We are not done with this!" Mr. Fray said, then turned to his wife and said. "Are you alight my angel?"
"No I am not!" She shouted. "Until that man is gone, I will no longer sing, and this place will go to ruins!"
Mr. Fray was about to speak, but she just turned and left without another word.
"Oh dear. Now who's going sing the lead part?"
"Christine could." I said. "She's been taking lessons."
He turned to Christine who had been standing by the curtain ropes and said. "From who?"
"Um, I don't know his name." She said.
"Sing."
"Now?"
"Yes now!"
She took a deep breath and began to a song from Madame Butterfly and I almost wept.
"You've got the part." Mr. Fray said as she finished.
A month later, the show was about to start and the fool had sold box five to someone. A man, his wife and his brother. They were in there only thirty-two minutes and they ran out to continue an argument.
I walked into the box and said. "Eric, what did you do?"
"Why didn't they save my box?" the voice, said, though I could not see him.
"The manager don't believe in ghost, now Eric what did you do?"
"Ask the brother and the wife what they did, I just pointed it out. Now as for the new managers, it's been a month and he still doesn't believe? What a pity his life must come to a tragic end."
I just sighed, knowing that unless the managers believed in ghost all of a sudden, there was no way to stop this, and I sat down in a chair and took a sip from the drink the man had left behind.