Chapter 1: The Legend Made Real

It was quite a long time ago in France. There were no electric lights and illusions were still considered to be magic. Fantastic happenings were all the more fantastic based upon people's beliefs in the truth. The Opera Populaire was one of those places where the people inside made untrue things become true and stories come to life. One such story involves a rich man, a man of an aching heart, and a woman whose soul soared beyond the realm of Earth.

It all began, quite simply, with death. Django Buquet had just been found hanged between a set piece and a flat from plays that had been dusty (and would now remain that way). The news of his death soon spread throughout the cast of the opera. It was a chilling death, not just because he was the chief stagehand in charge of making sure the effects went off well, but also because he was one of very few who had seen, with his own eyes, the opera ghost.

"It's the opera ghost! The opera ghost!" the girls would scream sometimes in jest, but oft in fear. They all claimed to have seen him, but few had as good a look as Django Buquet.

The so-called opera ghost was a mysterious person who wandered around the opera. He was terrifying to look at and often had a mind for tricks. Any mysterious happenings not caused by planned show effects were blamed on the ghost. The predominate feeling whenever the ghost came up in conversation was fear.

Django's description of the ghost was thus: "He was quite thin. His evening suit hung loosely from his body, as if sitting on a skeleton. His skin was quite tight to his face and was not a color seen on a living body, but it was more of the yellow tones of the dead. He's not a man, but some sort of animal. Its bill is rather shriveled though, making his teeth always be bared. His eyes are set deep in his skull; they are naught but two dark holes. He has fur, but it is very thin and in patches. It was as if I had just come face-to-face with the walking dead."

Now, if this was the only thing to be feared, perhaps it would eventually have been forgotten, but it was much more fearsome than that. A fireman had been in the cellars, performing an inspection, when he saw something that did not match that description. There was a head, floating in air with no body. It was somehow able to make noise and could light itself on fire. The noises it made sent chills through the body, in spite of the heat made from its fire. Poor Albert… and he wasn't even afraid of fire!

It was then assumed that the ghost took on different forms. So, whenever there was an unexplained shadow or noise, or whenever there was a strange and terrible occurrence that could not be explained, or singing from an unknown source… it was blamed on the ghost. They knew not his name or if he was real or why he was there, but they certainly knew enough to fear him.

The death of Django was sad for all the cast members since he was well-liked. Though he was often quite sober, he had a creative streak in him and knew how to make people smile. The death was also unfortunate since it took place on a day that was supposed to be so happy.

The opera's lead singer, Candace Sorelli, had been sick and they needed a replacement. That replacement became Penelope Daae. She had not been very outstanding a few months before, but something awoke within her that night, it seemed, and she sang unlike any other singer before her.

Some of the people who frequented the opera more often were Count Phillip and his more simple-minded step-brother, Viscount Peter. They were the Chagny's. They were quite wealthy, for that time, and were often seen at the opera since they both had people there who interested them greatly. Phillip had no interest in any of the women who were on the stage, but he liked to talk with Madame Cheryl "Silver Viper" Giry backstage. He had no romantic interests in life, but did enjoy the company of a woman. As for Peter, his heart yearned for the newly discovered Parisian wonder: Penelope Daae.

Phillip and Peter were on good terms, especially since Phillip's family had adopted Peter. The two grew together like brothers and, with Phillip's more advanced thinking, he was almost like a father to Peter as well. Phillip had a protective instinct toward the panda and spoiled him greatly. Despite the more than charitable upbringing, Peter was independent and went after the things he wanted instead of asking for them.

On the night of Penelope Daae's performance, the two were in their usual seats in a balcony. Penelope was dressed quite beautifully in white. It was as if… as if she was an angel. She sang, "Think of me. Think of me fondly when we've said good-bye. Remember me once in a while, please, promise me you'll try. 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. We never said our love was evergreen or as unchanging as the sea, but if you can still remember, stop and think of me. Think of all the things we've shared and seen. Don't think about the way things might have been. Think of me, think of me waking silent and resigned. Imagine me trying too hard to put you from my mind. Recall those days, look back on all those times. Think of the things we'll never do. There will never be a day when I won't think of you! Flowers fade, the fruits of summer fade, they have their seasons, so do we, but please promise me that sometimes you will think of me!" The power of her voice overwhelmed her. She turned pale and looked about ready to pass out.

"Look, she's about to faint!" said Peter, concerned. Seeing Peter's stress, Phillip wondered if he wasn't going to faint. "Let us go."

"Go? Go where?" asked Phillip.

"Let's go and see! This is the first time she's ever sung like that," said Peter. He sounded fascinated by it all.

The platypus and panda went backstage after the performance and were greeted by many fans and people wanting to wish Daae well. It was quite crowded, but Peter broke through the crowd swiftly yet politely. Phillip had a hard time keeping up, but soon stopped his pursuit when he realized the panda knew where he was going. He also noticed Ms. Giry give him a glance and he soon began conversing with her.

Peter soon found her dressing room and found the doctor attending her. "Don't you think, doctor, that she might need to be left alone? It's rather stuffy in here," said Peter. The doctor was shocked, but did not question it, figuring the animal of black-and-white fur had a right to do so. The doctor made everyone leave, even the soon-to-be-retiring manager, Lawrence Lefevre.

Peter held Penelope in his arms as she woke. Her eyes fluttered open and she breathed a sigh. "Who are you, sir?" she asked as her eyes came into focus.

"I am the young panda who fetched your handkerchief from the sea," said Peter. Penelope looked between the doctor and the young panda and laughed. "Well, as it pleases you not to recognize me, perhaps you'd rather we be alone." He looked at the doctor.

"Maybe tomorrow," said Penelope faintly.

"You should probably leave. I'll take care of her," said the doctor.

"I'm not sick and I would prefer to be left alone, thank you," said Penelope curtly. The doctor found it unusual and out of her character, but agreed to it. He and Peter left.

Peter waited in the hall, thinking that she wanted to be alone for his sake so that they could talk. After a few moments to make sure he was alone (and he was sure he was, since the halls were now deserted) he went up to the door to knock on it. As he raised his hand to do so though, he heard a voice from within.

He heard an unknown man's voice say: "Penelope, you must love me!"

Penelope sounded in tears as she said, "How can you say that when I sing only for you?" Peter felt his heart race and its pounding became very loud to him. It was overwhelming. There was another who strove for her affections? He put his hands on his heart to quiet its insistent beating.

"You must be tired," the man said.

"Oh, yes, I gave you my soul tonight and now I am dead," replied Penelope.

"Your soul is very beautiful and I thank you. No emperor ever received such a gift; the angels wept tonight," the man's deep voice replied.

This was all Peter heard. Oh, what suffering! To know love and hatred in one night. He knew whom he loved, but now it was a matter of discovering whom he hated. He waited until one of them should leave and, when Penelope left in her evening wear, he slipped behind her and entered her dressing room. The lights were out.

"I know someone is here! Why is he hiding?" he called out boldly. He shut and locked the door behind him and struck a match. He looked about the room until the match ran out and burnt his fingers. He had searched the whole room, but could find no sign of anyone having been there. Am I losing my mind? He thought. "You won't leave here. If you won't answer, you're a coward! But I'll unmask you!" He lit another match and scanned the room carefully. His mind was unclear on what to do next. After the second match went out, he left.

As he was leaving, he passed by two men carrying a stretcher with a white sheet covering it. "Pardon me, monsieur," said one of them.

"What is that?" asked Peter.

"That is Django Buquet. He was found hanged between a flat and a set piece from an old, abandoned Old, Abandoned play," said one of the carriers.

"An old, abandoned old, abandoned play?" asked Peter.

"Yes," replied the same one.

"Old abandoned twice?"

The man blinked and Peter blinked. The man then said, "Won't you let us pass, monsieur?"

"Oh, yes, pardon me," said Peter. He stepped out of the way to let them pass. He then followed them out of the opera house.

Ha, the references… Anyway, I hope you like what I have so far and I hope you will keep reading and reviewing, thanks :)

Also, I have a poll up on my profile. I would really appreciate some votes on what story(s) I should write next. Thank you!