literature

The Phantomess of the Opera 04

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Chapter 4: Songs and Meaning.



Should I have stayed to watch the rest of the events unfold? I suppose so. Though I hadn’t meant to, it turns out the passageway I had taken lead up into Erik’s opera box- the wall I leaned against had swiveled around as a kind of door, nearly throwing me into the four seats within. I stifled a yelp. After a brief shake of my head, I crawled on all fours as to not be seen, then stood, hiding behind the curtain draped off to the side. I peered out carefully.
The cast was still scared, as was expected, but I saw the ballet mistress- Madame Giry, I remembered, I had almost run into her a few times- keep the noise down, and read Erik’s note aloud. As she got to the part about Box Five being left empty, her cane swung up to point at it, and I removed my gaze from their line of vision before people saw me. I could only hear the rest.
“A full house, and we must refund it-!”
“Calm down, I’m sure there must be an understudy…”
“La Carlotta doesn’t have an understudy!”
I suppose I admired Carlotta’s dedication to her art; to not have an understudy must mean that she would always perform, regardless her condition. Amidst the commotion, Madame Giry spoke again.
“Christine Daaé could sing it, sirs.”
Christine? I believed I saw some scribbles Erik had made about a woman named Christine. Could this be her? I squatted down this time, peering my gaze over the rail of the box. It really was a good view of the stage, so I could see why Erik had taken a liking to it. Thanks to the view, I could see the woman in question- she was petite, dressed in the ballet chorus costume, with curly brown hair that cascaded down her back. Her face, though ridden with an expression of nervousness, seemed gentle. In my eyes, she looked like a nice woman.
With some encouragement, she opened her mouth to sing, and my eyes widened.
It was beautiful.
There was something about the style though, the way she carried her voice, her technique. It was something I had only come to know in a short time. Though she sang in her own way, with her own voice, she sung just like Erik. She must be his student for those mysterious ‘voice lessons’ he kept running off to, then.
As she concluded the aria, she was met with plenty of applause. I even gave my own small claps for her, though they were hidden amongst the clamour onstage. The managers had spoken; Christine Daaé would replace Carlotta in the leading role tonight.
That was the last thing I heard before I descended back below.

I had half expected to hear the organ pounding again, but as I returned to the lair, I heard nothing. I didn’t even see Erik anywhere… but that doesn’t mean he wasn’t there. He is a ‘ghost’, after all. Hiding and appearing to not be in a place at a given time was his specialty.
As I approached the lair, however, I could smell his scent, but it was stale- he hadn’t been here for a while. My mind suddenly questioned where he had gone, until I remembered Christine. He must have wanted to listen to her. He set that up for her. I shook my head. Unfathomable, the ideas of that man. I could only wonder what goes on in his head on a day to day basis.
I sat upon the bench in front of the organ, crossing my right leg over my left. My posture straightened, and I dare not lay my back against the organ itself (as such would be mistreatment of the instrument). My gaze stared at the tiniest of waves lapping on the surface of the lagoon,  then up again to the passageway in which it opened up to. Despite having only been down here for not long at all, and especially the opera house above in which it could not compare to, I thought the caverns and passageways down here were beautiful in their own ways. It was an all natural beauty, whereas the opera house was man-made. Hard to compare, and yet, people often preferred the man-made beauty over natural beauty.
A quick grating of a passage door attracted my attention, and my head turned to the source, seeing Erik emerge from it. My head tilted to the right.
“Someone was busy.” A sigh as he pushed the door back into the place it was hidden in on the wall.
“So you noticed.”
“I’m sure more than just myself noticed,” I replied, a faint smile on my face, “you attracted a lot of attention.”
A pause, his emerald eyes meeting my own, “... I suppose I did.”
His fedora and cape were removed, being laid upon a coatrack off to the side. As my friend passed me, I asked then, “What is she to you?”
He froze. “That shouldn’t concern you.”
“Erik,” I said warningly, “she must mean something to you if she managed to sing like you.”
He spun around, “How did you…”
“As I said, you attracted a lot of attention, my own included. I may have not been around long, but I can tell your vocal style when you sing. She may have her own style, that is true, but there is an imprint of yours on it.” I pressed. Erik stood there for another moment, staring at me, until he finally sat next to me on the bench- how there was room for both of us, I wasn’t quite sure.
“This is per the same condition I had with telling you my true name,” said he, gaze stern, “I don’t want you telling the world about this.” I nodded, hair bouncing as I did so… I was quite curious about this Christine woman. “Alright. It wasn’t anything special, but… I met her a few years ago. She was very little. Her father had died before she had came to the opera house. Back then, she was training to be a ballerina. My friendship with her consisted upon a well-lived lie, one that is still in use to this day.” My eyebrow rose in question.
“What lie?”
“She thinks I’m her… Angel of Music,” despite the fact of the name paling in comparison to the title of the Phantom of the Opera, he said it gently, “she said when her father died, he would send the Angel of Music to watch over her. And so, that’s what I did. I gave her vocal lessons, guarded her, and somewhere along the lines…”
“... You fell in love with her,” I finished.
“Mm,” Erik’s gaze fell off into the distance, towards the entrance of the cavern, “I don’t know how it happened… it just did.”
“Love works like that, I suppose,” my own small hand rested upon his shoulder, and he turned his eyes back towards me.
“It does… but I don’t think she feels the same way as I do about her. Despite that, I…” a breath, “I want to take her down here.”
Now it was my turn to be shocked, removing the hand from his shoulder. “You… what?”
“I want to show her how I feel,” he went on, “bring her down here, maybe introduce her to you. Show her that I am more of a man than an angel.”
I had often seen scribbles of Erik’s musings around the lair. Most involved his inner thoughts, regardless of when they had been thought and written down. He thought of himself as a demon. He hated himself. But there must be something special about this Christine Daaé if she could manage to make him forget that.
“I know what you’re thinking,” he spoke, and I jumped, “the thought is as plain as day on your face. I know I am unworthy of her. She probably could never love me. But bringing her down here… that would still give me something to look back upon fondly, I suppose.”
It amazed me that he could read me so well. “I suppose as well. I’m quite looking forward to meeting her as well.”
A small smile, a rarity for him, appeared on his face, “... Indeed.”
Wow, an update! :wow: That sure took a while. I feel rusty with writing as Erik, bluh. Hopefully that changes.

Hope you all enjoy!
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