Chapter 3. The tragedy of Joseph Bouquet and an even more tragic heart break.
I tried to warn them, but they wouldn't listen. The occasional sandbag being kicked over the edge of the catwalk hitting that Wrench in the face wasn't enough to scare them. I should have used a bag of sharp rocks instead.
It has been 7 months since that January night when Christine led the opera to success, and she, the best singer in the cast, had been moved, to ballet, which she had little experience in, and the Wrench sang at the operas they had, and all this had caused the place to lose money and refund tickets, and reduce the small pay(witch I recently have had to steal from the safe in the manager's office) just so Christine could be paid.
Christine. Oh that wonderful name. That beautiful woman. I would do anything for her. I would steal the moon from the sky so she could toss it in the air like a ball. I would go to Africa just to get her a lion cub to raise as a house cat if she wanted. I loved her more than I love the music I live by.
I know little about love, only things from fiction, but I know it is love that I feel for Christine. There were so many times I wanted to take her, but I held myself back, so not to hurt her like I was hurt many years ago.
But that is another matter completely.
The night the opera house preformed Macbeth was the night I made sure they knew I was real.
Again the fools didn't save my box, so from my secret entrance I let loose a box of rats, and they sent the group of elderly women out in a panic, causing the entire opera house was soundless.
After a moment the actors on stage were signaled to continue, and so they did.
Carlota sang to the point where it hurt my ears hurt, so I raced to the back stage and when no one was looking my direction; I traded her glass of lemon juice for a special mixture of my own.
As I got to the end, I heard footsteps behind me, so I turned and went up the stairs to the platforms above where the stage hands worked, and the footsteps followed. The poor fool. And no other stage hands were up there.
I stepped to the other side of the catwalk, turned around and saw him. The stage hand Joseph Bouquet. Soon to be late stage hand Joseph Bouquet.
He saw my mask and turned to run, but I went to the other platform and raced to the other end, and then followed the scared fool to the other side.
There he raced to the other stares, but I caught him in a rope and tied it in a special knot I learned during a trip to Punjab. The poor fool was dead.
Then as the signal for the curtain to go up came, I did the job for him, and as Carlota began to sing, her voice croaked, and she put her hand to her head and fell, not dead, but asleep.
I smiled as everyone gasped and ran to her aid, and to make it worst, I dropped the body over the edge and shouted. "The Phantom shall not be ignored!"
As they looked around to find me, I took my secret passage way to the roof to calm myself, but found myself anything but calm.
Christine was there, and there was that fool Raoul with her.
"But Christine there is no angel or phantom of anything of that matter!" The Fool said.
"But Raoul," Christine replied. "I've seen him! I know where he lives and over the years he has taught me to sing! And he's gone mad! Raoul I'm scared!"
The Fool put his hands on her shoulders and said. "Christine, I won't let anyone harm you. I love you."
Christine wiped her tears away and did the unthinkable, she kissed the Fool. Kissed him!
I felt my heart shatter in pieces, I took a rose I was planning on giving her out of my pocket and stared at it, and when they left, I picked the petals off and threw the stem over the edge, hitting some man below.
I fell to my knees and felt my mask, then screamed her name at the top of my lungs. My Christine couldn't love me even if it weren't for the Fool.
No one could ever love poor Eric.