ACK! I'm so sorry, I missed the disclaimer last chapter! Don't kill me! Disclaimer: I own none of this! Only the plot and Monsieur Ane belong to me!

I began to wonder: What if I made my presence known? I had now lived for seven years in the catacombs of the theater, yet no one except Monique knew that I existed. I knew that the Opera House was being run poorly, because I knew opera. I had now written several dozen operas, and I could tell from decreasing sales that the place was suffering from bad management. I had to do something! An idea came to mind. Oh yes, a wonderful, devious idea! I began to write, not my usual music, but a letter.

To Monsieur Ane, the manager of the Opera Populaire,

I bid you welcome back from your vacation. You will be disappointed to learn that the Opera Populaire is doing very poorly under your instruction. This is why I will be taking over the management of the theater. You will always leave box five empty for me, so that I can see the progress of my Opera House. For the work I am doing, I shall require a salary of a round twenty thousand francs a month. If these commands are not met, a disaster beyond your imagination will occur

Your obedient servant,

O.G.

Yes, that would do. I saw no reason to use my real name. O.G. would stand for Opera Ghost. Sinister enough. I wondered briefly if I should wait for Monique to come and then ask her to give them the note, but no, who knew when Monique would come again? There where dozens of passages to different rooms in the theater. I knew them all, seeing as I had built most of them. I glanced at my clock; it read 12:07 AM. I knew everyone should be asleep, and thus risked sneaking through a passageway to slide the note under a door. I paused, and then grinned. I coincidentally had a skull seal and red wax. Why not use that as my mark? I marked the note, and went to place the note into the box reserved for the managers alone.

Monique came down the next afternoon, after the practice. I had been composing, and had no idea how it had gone. Judging by her face, I assumed that the note had been read. Her face was firmly set to appear angry, but I knew that she was trying not to laugh.

"Erik!" she snapped, managing to sound stern all the same. "What do you call this?"

I looked at her, my face a mask of innocence. "What do I call what, Mummy?" I asked her in an innocent, never did anything wrong little boy voice. She knew full well that I knew what she was talking about. "What have I done wrong?"

"Explain- this- letter!" she gasped, surrendering to whoops of mirth.

"Oh, that," I said, hanging my head mockingly. "Well you see, I get very, very bored down here, and I think Monsieur Ane is a jackass, and I can run the theater better than he can so…" I looked up cheerfully, "… I am going to run the theater!"

"Funny. Oh well, it was a laugh. You should have seen Monsieur Ane's face. 'An Opera Ghost? Preposterous! I shall run my theater as usual! No prank will offset me!' It was hilarious!"

"Funny? I'm dead serious Monique," I told her. "Well, he has decided not to take me seriously. What havoc should I wreck on him?"

"Erik no!" Monique gasped, shocked. "Erik, this is all a very good joke, but punishing Monsieur Ane?"

"Why not? Let me see…" my voice trailed off.

"Erik-" she broke off, not meeting my eyes.

"What?" I asked.

"You wouldn't kill again would you? I mean, you did before…" her voice died out and she looked at me pleadingly.

"That was different. He deserved it," I said tightly. "This is going to be minor. Trust me. Oh I know exactly what to do!" I started to laugh. It was hilarious.

"Oh, I have to go!" gasped Monique. "I'll see you later. That trouble had better be minor, or else…"

"Yes mummy," I said meekly.

Practice the next day. I grinned evilly as I snuck over to the stage overhang. The cast was working on an opera that was reasonably directed, but it would have to be interrupted for dramatic purposes. "So. I hear you decided to ignore my commands!" I boomed through a tube that amplified my voice.

Everyone stared up in shock. "Ah-ah- keep going, keep going!" blustered Monsieur Ane.

"Ah, but should they? Is this particular opera run the way it should be? Or is it in need of instruction?"I called through the tube, struggling to control my laughter.

By now Monique was the only one who wasn't staring around in petrified terror. "Very well. This opera is satisfactory. I give you one last chance to reconsider following my commands. Remember, the Phantom of the Opera is always watching, and he always wins…" It was hysterical. People were staring around in fear, their mouths hanging open. I laughed at last, making it maniacal to add to the effect. If they thought I was insane, it would give me a better image. I retreated back to my cavern. "This should be interesting," I whispered.