Hello my fellow fan fiction readers,

I had completely forgotten to include an intro in my first chapter, which for that I heavily apologize. This is a modern day twist of the original storyline. The chapters alternate perspective between Erik and Cassarah.

You may notice not ALL of the characters come into play – and some may have been renamed for the sake of the story. I do not own these characters and the credit goes to they who originally created them. I do however; own the original character Cassarah as well as her life story.

I truly hope you enjoy this story as much as I have enjoyed writing it. Any criticism or praise is welcomed so please feel free to drop a note or two.

Thank you for your interest,

Jenny Dear

And- without further ado –

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Chapter 2

Erik- You Fool.

I saw her there, quietly standing and listening to the careful instructions of the choir director. Her face was pristine, the color of the rising moon on a warm summer eve. Her hair flowed down past her shoulders to rest lazily below her chest. She walked with an air of grace not seen in this generation as if she was transported from the days of propriety. My eyes were transfixed by the soft movement of her steps to the front of the stage. She cast her eyes down as if ashamed of herself. How I longed to lift her face from the floor, how my hands trembled at the thought of her hair entwined between my fingers.

The director beckoned her to stand tall and begin the aria of the first act, a slow melody made to entice the audience to attention. There was a moment of hesitation before she opened her mouth and eased the first few notes out into the empty theater. My hands gripped the lapels of my vest, the sound so pure it could make the devil himself fall to the floor and reach for the heavens. She was the shining light in my realm of utter darkness. I watched, silently and unseen high in the crevices of the theater ceiling. For the last four years I've watched this woman transform from a shy choir singer, to a leading lady of song. Her instructors were well advised by me in private. I wanted to give her the world and yet I was too afraid to show myself to her. I've shunned myself from the outside, hiding myself away in the dark. I was a monster in every aspect of the word, the boogeyman of music.

As the song continued, her body began to sway with the tremendous power of the melody unleashing in the concert hall. I began to sway in my solitude, dreaming of being able to sing with her. As the music climaxed, she flung her hands up to the ceiling and for a fleeting moment, I thought she was gesturing to me. I stood up, my heart beating out of my chest and leaned forward to reach towards her. The rafter groaned at the weight of my body, sending an audible crack emanating throughout the theater. The music stopped and the choir below began to shriek and buzz.

"Please! Everyone calm down. It was probably just a worker." He said, trying to regroup his company away from the disruption. "Excuse me! Excuse-"

"It's the infamous opera ghost." One of the pupils had exclaimed.

"I don't want to be here anymore! Can we move somewhere else?" Another one said.

A few of them gathered their things and made for the left stage exit. "Where do you think you're going? Rehearsal isn't finished!" The director hastily exclaimed to the company once more.

It was no use. More began to follow the others, too spooked to even listen to the director. Kristina wrung her hands tightly together and stalked toward her maestro. Her eyes were glued to the floor, a worried expression painted on her face.

"Monsieur, may I have a word?" She asked quietly. I clung to ever word she spoke like a junky to his chosen drug.

The instructor ran a hand through his thinning hair. Irritation was plainly written across his face at the sudden interruption of his rehearsal. "Yes - of course, Kristina."

"Maybe I shouldn't be the lead for this production. It's as if every time I try to sing, something happens to stop me. Maybe it's an omen?" My heart skipped a beat.

He chuckled. "Don't be so silly. You are the perfect fit for the role. With a little more practice, if God willing, you'll be ready my dear. Come back here tomorrow after rehearsal and we will go over your songs more in depth. Go home for now...as it seems rehearsals are over." He gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

She smiled and made her way to the exit. I jumped up and climbed down a hidden stairwell to the first floor hallways. Bearing a left, I followed a long corridor, listening intently for her to come down. After a brief moment of silence, she was there. I heard her softly humming to herself the beautiful melody from the production rehearsal. I smiled, and followed her adjacently through the walls. My fingers trailed across the cement divots, wishing I could just reach through as if I were the actual ghost people believed I was.

She stopped for a moment to say goodnight to a fellow choir member, wrapped her jacket tighter around her slender frame and exited out the south side door. I had to see her once more before I travelled back down to my dungeon for the night.

Slipping through a hidden archway, I opened a stone door that lead out to the back of the opera house, and cloaked under the umbrella of night, I set off to silently follow behind my obsession. She walked alone, clutching her arms tight around her chest, as if to ward off evil spirits. I stalked between the shadows, avoiding the moonlight as if the mere touch would burn me. Wrapped up in my own deep thoughts, my foot hit a stone and sent it skidding across the street. Kristina stopped instantly, and timidly looked behind her. I slid in between an alleyway just in time to miss her searching gaze. That was too close!

'Erik, you fool!'

Once I was certain she started walking again, I began my quest to follow her through the empty streets of Paris. There wasn't a soul in sight, except for a passing car, or a stranger walking their little pets. She turned down a street and I rushed forward to keep up with her. No one noticed the man in a mask, wearing a long black trench coat slipping through the alleyways and neighborhoods of the city. It didn't matter to me either way; I just wanted more time with my lovely protégé. She brought so much joy to the desolate isolation of my world.

She climbed the steps to her apartment and slipped through the front door without a second glance. The tree outside the apartment complex stood large and sturdy. I climbed the limbs of the foliage with ease until I was level with her floor. My Kristina- so pure and innocent. She deserved to live a life of wealth and fame. Not sleep in squalor like the rest of this town. Suddenly, a bright, menacing light shone through one of the apartment windows. It was her, in nothing but a towel.

Her hair was wrapped up into a tousled bun, tendrils freely falling away and swaying in her fluid movements. Her elegant fingers twisted the knobs on the tub as the water gushed out of the faucet. Turning to face my direction, she let go of the towel. My fingers dug into the tree branch as I watched the towel fall and crumble to her feet. She was utterly naked in front of me and even though the shame of my prying eyes flooded my cheeks, I couldn't bear to look away. Her body was like that of a sculpted masterpiece. Her collar bones were like sensual preludes to the dip between the valleys of her bosom. Her waist was cinched but curved out wide at the rise of her hips. Blood surged to my loins as I lowered my gaze to the most private of body parts. I knew I was spying in on a very private moment, and shamed tickled my stomach. The wind began to pick up, caressing my flushed skin.

"Erik, you fool, you disgusting deviant. Is this what you have been forced to?'

My head finally hung low in disgrace. When I had the courage to look back up, Kristina had already lowered herself into the bath. Her delicate head rested against the porcelain as the loose strands of hair dangled far down, almost touching the bathroom floor. Then, she began to sing a melody I had never heard before. It was like an angel had begun to sing, and I adjusted my weight on the tree branch to have a better listen. She began her crescendo as my heart followed suit, her song lifting my soul above into the heavens. Unable to control it, I began to softly sing back to her. Startled, she shot forward causing the water to slosh over onto the floor. After a few moments of silence, she relaxed back into the water.

"Kristina..." I whispered into the cool night air. Her eyes shot open, and panic overtook her beautiful expression.

Without warning she climbed out of the tub, grabbed her towel and raced out of the bathroom. My heart sunk deep into my chest. I had frightened her. My careless exclamation to her had scuttled her away from me once more. The longing in my heart vibrated through my entire core. Melting down against the tree trunk, I sat and thought hard about the idea beginning to form in my head.

She was a young, naive, gullible woman who was in need of someone to guide her. She needed a leader, a supporter, a ghost, or lover to pull her out of this depression. Perhaps that could be me? Maybe I could be her God of Music, Angel of song? I could make her voice golden and her soul set free.

'Erik, you pathetic fool...look at you. You are nothing but a ghoul... The devil incarnate. What would she ever want with you...?"

Anger welled up in my chest and caused my stomach to tighten. The voice in my head was right. I was nothing but a pathetic ghoul, cursed to walk the streets of Paris alone and in the dark. It had been months since I'd seen the sun and felt the heat of its rays on my face. Casting a fleeting glance back to the dark bathroom window, I resigned to my reality and began to climb the tree back down to the ground.

When I returned to my home below the opera house, I felt uneasy. The feeling from before rose beneath my insides, pushing until I felt ready to explode. I was sick of this life, this complete isolation. For 20 years I had lived this facade of a life and it was beginning to wear thin. My mind began to dawdle on everything I had longed for in the past two decades and nothing could compare to the crushing feelings of love I had for a woman who didn't even knew I existed. What was the point of even trying to pretend I could outlive this torturous sentence here, a hundred feet below ground? I was nothing more than a sewer rat, hiding away from the common people of life outside.

The sorrow was so overwhelming I had to choke back the tears that threatened at every breath. Craving for the release, I collapsed at the grand piano next to my bed. My fingers poised themselves over the keys and mindlessly began to play an unknown melody. The song started out slow, the rhythm of the music casting me away. My thoughts drifted to Kristina; the sound of her voice, the shape of her mouth and the curve of her naked hips. My hands moved faster and more feverishly as the feelings of hate and rage boiled over until I slammed my hands down on the ivory. I grabbed the cat shaped bobble on top of the mantle and threw it across the room, its existence ending in a crash of a dozen, little pieces. I strewed my musical scores and grabbed my completed works off the music stand next to the piano. I went towards the small wood burning furnace in the sitting room. Throwing them into the metal tomb, I lit them with the flame of a lingering candle.

I sunk to my knees and began to cry uncontrollably. My life was doomed to this prison away from the entire world and the beauty from above. The tears slid heavily between my mask and the tormented and disfigured skin that lay hidden beneath. This face that a mother could hardly look at, that everyone else reviled with their cruel, biting words.

"She will never love you...she shies away from every contact you have with her. Why even give yourself the hope? Put you out of this misery...stop the pain."

Standing aimlessly, I strolled over to the bookshelves and opened a wooden case with brass fixtures adorned on it. Inside laid a gleaming six shooter. It teased and sneered at me as if to call my bluff. I took out the metal weapon and threw the weight of my decision between my hands. What was even the argument? What was my purpose for living?

I trudged back to my bedroom and caressed my piano and my violin once more before placing the barrel of the 44-40 against my temple. The metal was cool and almost refreshing. I choked out a few more sobs as my finger began to pull back on the trigger.

All of a sudden an alarm set more than two centuries ago sounded off in the foyer. Clenching the gun tightly in my hand, I hesitated for a few more seconds. Curiosity got the best of me and I let the gun sullenly fall down to the Persian rug below.

'Who dares to enter MY halls and MY corridors? They will learn to leave me alone.' I growled.

As I walked out of the bedroom to grab my coat and hat, I looked back once more to the pistol lying pristinely on the ground. 'One day we shall meet again my violent friend, and you will be the end of this sorrow and desolation. Believe you me.'

I opened the door to the underground apartment and stalked off toward the upper labyrinths of the opera bowels. It had been years since anyone had dared to brave the black halls of my domain. There had been so many rumors of my existence that it caused for a natural repellent. Still, every once in a while someone would test their bravery only to be met with my sinister presence. It was curious to me that people still tried.

On the contrary, there was exhilaration to it. I climbed through hallway after hallway, following the now silent alarm to the west wing where an old trapdoor was unveiled when the last renovation was almost complete. Right before me, I could see two figures slowly creeping forward, their breaths rushing out in short bursts of excitement. The vague scent of honeysuckles and sweat permeated the air and tickled the tip of my nose. I held my ground and waited. A young man, hesitant in his steps trailed another, smaller frame. Their hands were wound together in a gripping vice. So, they came to get a glimpse of the opera ghost, the monster that dwelled beneath them. I let my footing become louder before them and at once they halted their advance.

"Did you hear something?" The man quivered.

"No. Are you getting scared!? This was your challenge, if you back out now, you forfeit." She boldly told him.

"I'm-" he said. I made another step forward, just shy of a few steps from the girl attempting to pull her accomplice along. "Wait..."

"Go back..." I whispered in a ghostly voice.

They both froze in fear. The man broke from the girls grasp and slowly began to back up.

"Alex..." Her voice only wavered for a moment but her body stood still in fright. I could almost hear her pulse climbing with every passing moment. "Do you..."

"Cass, it's the ghost!" He yelled, turning on his heel and dashing back toward the way they both came.

I took another step forward, just shy of the light aimed sloppily at the ground. The hand which held the flashlight shook violently and she caught sight of me. At this point, I could make out her features. She couldn't have been more than 27 years of age and very beautiful. Her facial features were plain on their own, but her eyes and her full lips were very attractive. Her hair was long, falling down below her shoulders, only resting right above her chest. It was as wavy as a storm stricken sea, wild and flowing. I could see the fear frozen in her eyes and yet there was something else there. Amusement? Curiosity even?

"It's a ghost...turn back the way you had come. This is not your domain." I ethereally said to the woman staring at me.

"Hardly." She whispered. Her eyes searched mine, fascination born with every passing second. Before I could say another word, she twirled around and ran back up to the world above.

A breath came rushing out into the empty darkness. I didn't even realize I was holding my breath. She didn't scream, or cry? She must have seen me! I turned around quickly and marched back down the sloped corridor. There was something about that woman I could not comprehend. She didn't flee, but merely listened to my command. This didn't make any sense.

I returned back to the underground apartment and paced. I paced from one room to the next in deep meditation at the sudden spike of interaction. The episode with Kristina was pure lunacy on my part, but the encounter with this woman was terrifying. And I didn't frighten easily. She had seen me...what was I to do? Find her and kill her? Hide out for weeks until things died down? What if she became curious again and ventured down here once more? Well, if it came to that I'd just have to strangle the little vixen.

Collapsing in the armchair in front of the wood burning furnace, I cradled my head in my palm. What a peculiar night this turned out to be. First, the moment with Kristina and now this encounter with a curious little ballet rat. I will have to make sure her curiosity is staved for good. I will have to intrude on her and cause her to keep silent. She was a brave one, I could tell by the way her eyes challenged me. Just how brave she was, we would most certainly find out.

Exhaustion swept over me as I watched the flames eat and consume the remaining pages of my manuscripts. I had managed to wander the days away with just a few short intervals of restless slumber. My eyes softly began to flutter and I gave way to the heaviness of sleep.

I could still imagine Kristina's naked form clearly in my mind's eye. Her allure was nothing I had ever experienced before and the way her innocence personified itself through her music. She made me feel alive; she cast light on all the darkness on my soul until there was nothing left but beauty. I must devise some form of plan to bring her to me. She was my way out of this hell. She was my saving grace.