Oh dear readers, this has been such a wonderful journey for me….my writing growing stronger each day. Thank you all for your support, but I still need your reviews! Thank you all. This chapter is quite a stretch for me….please enjoy!
PryingPandora
The game has changed
VII
Listen to them plead with that poor excuse for a singer Carlotta, how DARE they disobey me, and give the lead to her. Her voice was not made to be heard, it was made to be silenced!
His blood boiled and he could barely contain his anger at the ignorant fools that ran HIS Opera house. High above in the rafters he paced, careful not to make a sound and alert any of the crew to his where abouts. Flicking his cape behind his shoulder he fumed, he could almost see red. Suddenly his heart lurched, he could see his beautiful, angelic Christine, and he recoiled. His rage almost prompting him to drop in on those buffoons heads and strangle them all.
His hand had a death grip on the Punjab lasso, aching to be used against those who dared to put his delicate Christine in the shameful clothes of a boy.
HOW DARE THEY!
Shaking with rage he watched as Carlotta took center stage, his graceful Christine far behind, her head down in shame. He could almost feel her humiliation and pain. Clenching his hands into fists he fought the urge to drop from the rafters and show them what it really meant to disobey the Opera Ghost.
Quaking he watched as they set up, the stage hands running around like rats in a maze. As his rage hit its peak he decided….decided….
With a smirk on his face the Phantom skirted about the rafters. Hidden inside his waistcoat pocket was an identical vial to the one La Carlotta uses for her breath spray. He laughed under his breath as he dropped from above onto the stage, unafraid of being caught, as all of the rats were on stage, awaiting the beginning of the show. As he slithered along the shadows he could hear the beginning strains of the aria beginning, and he smiled, an evil look, as he switched the two vials. Oozing into the shadows once more he went to seat himself in box five, but found that wretched Vitacome lounging in it.
Oh how that irked him, his body shaking in rage. How dare they disobey him, not just once, but twice! They shall pay, and not just on La Carlotta's head.
Peering from between the backdrops, he could see his angelic Christine, her face aflame, her smile plastered upon her face. He could feel her humiliation coming off in waves, his ire returning. His jaw set into a hard line, his heart thundering.
La Carlotta shall croak like the toad she is. They will see their folly, and my Christine will not be upstaged again. And they shall pay for their mistakes.
Slipping from his place in the rafters, he escaped to the banisters behind the chandelier. High enough for no one to know where he was, let alone pin point his voice, with audible ire in his voice, he boomed as La Carlotta began to climb the scale.
"Did I not instruct, that box five be kept empty? "
A sea of faces turned from the stage, gasps ringing out from the surprised crowd and the stage staff alike. Confusion erupting, the patrons searching to find him. His face twisted in a smirk, fools.
He could hear La Carlotta, her voice reaching his ears, "Your part is silent, little toad!", his voice low, as to speak to himself.
" It is you who is a toad, Madame."
He could see that ugly La Carlotta fleeing off into the stage left, taking sprays of her throat spray. He laughs to himself, stupid little…..
Forcing himself to turn away, he exited the banisters through the door to the pulley systems that controlled the chandelier. Closing the door behind him, he sauntered out of the room, his face turned up into a knowing smirk.
He could hear La Carlotta croaking, her throat constricting and causing her to squeal and choke. He could hear the strains of laughter from where he was, and he felt a deep sense of satisfaction.
Suddenly a sound caught his attention, it was that sleaze Baquet, he was mere feet from him, on a small landing above the stage.
Had he seen me?
He had to have followed me through the banister door, in search of the elusive Opera Ghost. He had seen how he trailed his gaze over his sweet Christine, could see the drunken lust in his eyes. He was too close for comfort, and needed to be…. Taken care of.
He could hear the music of the ballet below, the dancers flitting across the stage, but high above, the drunk Joseph Baquet was about to have a scare. He smiled, a cruel look, slipping into the shadows behind the poor fool, he waited, watched him sweat, wonder where in the world the Opera Ghost was. He could hear his ragged breathing, the Phantom's heart crying out for the sloth's blood.
Stepping from the shadows he towered over Baquet, as the fat man turned his eyes seemingly bugged out of his head. His mouth wide open he turned and ran from him. The Phantom laughed, relishing the hunt.
Run little fool, no matter where you go, I will always be two steps ahead.
Through the labyrinth of the rafters he chased Baquet, finally meeting up with him upon the center gang way. With a malicious glee he shook the walkway, causing his prey to fall. Leaping like a glorious jungle cat he pounced on Baquet. He fought against the Phantom, taking the lasso from beside his hip the Phantom tied it about the drunkards feet. A swift punch to the face knocked the man out. His own rationality gone, the Phantom reveled in his released rage. With a insane smile he shoved Baquet off the gangway, sending him hurtling toward the stage below.
He could hear the screams of terror, the patrons fleeing from their seats. Their fear only strengthened his glee, he paused only a second longer before dropping Baquet's weight and letting him plummet to the stage. His body bouncing as it struck the stage, the dancers screaming and running for their lives.
Ignorant fools, let them think he is dead. He shall live, however as a scarred and broken man. Maybe this will teach them not to mess with the orders of the Opera Ghost.
Scowling he turned, swirling his cloak about him and disappearing into the shadows, content with the screams of terror and the fleeing patrons.
Watching the stage hands flee from his hidden vantage points he spy's Christine running…running..with whom?
Silently he follows her, noting that her face is pale, her beautiful features stretched tight with worry.
Had he terrified her? Will she run now?
His blood begins to boil once again, she was with that bastard, the Vitacome. Clutching the hem of his cape he followed them, emotions swirling about in his heart. Upon the roof he hid behind a gargoyle, his heart twisting painfully.
What is she doing up here, with HIM?
The Vitacome's voice rang out in the cold of the night,
"There is no phantom of the opera!"
He could see Christine's angelic face, her voice pouring out into the same darkness, his heart involuntarily squeezing,
" Raul! I have been there…..to his world of unending night. To where the daylight dissolves into darkness, darkness" He could see she was clutching a rose, the rose he had loving left her in her dressing room. A token of his apology for her humiliation. His heart felt as if she had torn it out. A strange alien feeling for him, he really does love her, his…Christine.
She continues, ripping at his heart.
"I have seen him, can I ever forget that sight? "
Was she appalled at him? Did she not love him? Damned Fool! How could he have let himself think that such a beauty love a beast like him?
His world crashing down around him, his heart shredded, he called out to her, his voice only her's to hear. The sound pitiful, his voice one of a broken man.
" Christine…Christine"
Suddenly her face was stricken, her features twisted painfully, she knew he was there, that he had heard.
Fighting to contain the sea of emotion roaring inside him he continued to stay, watching her clutch the rose tighter, and turning from the gargoyle which he hid behind to face Raul.
He almost lashed out, striding over the softly falling snow to strangle that damnable boy when he saw him grasp her face between his palms. Clutching his eyes closed, his blood pounding in his head he fled. A single tear cascading down his face.
How could she betray me? Oh Christine…how could you toss my love away? What have you done?