Disclaimer: Yep, I don't own any of the "Phantom of the Opera" characters. They belong to Gaston Leroux.
Author's Note: I am trying my hand at a bit of writing, as I usually just draw most of the time. So please read and review, telling me what I need to work on. Don't be too harsh please.
Also, this is based off of Joel Schumacher movie version. I wouldn't be able to do much with Gaston Leroux's version (though I strongly suggest you read the book!). :) And also, for the sake of my story, the fire never happened. Everything after the fire did. Sorry if you're angry with this, but if the fire did happen, it would ruin my story…
Also, yes, I know this story sucks.. I'm working on my writing skills.
I apologize for the first chapter being so short. I have plans for the story, but I couldn't put it in the first chapter. The story would move to fast, then.
The Whispers of the Dark
I thought it all to be a myth… Everything: The music, the love, the betrayal- everything. I was a ridiculous fool to think so. Living in the Opera Populair, you hear many rumors and legends. But there was always one… I'm sure you've heard it- Le Fantôme de l'Opéra. The Opera Ghost is said to haunt Box Five in the opera house. He is supposedly the ghost of a long dead opera singer- very talented, too. As naïve as I am, I thought my mother was just toying with my mind. Foolishness blinded me from the truth that her words reeked of.
I smiled as my mother sang upon the stage of the Opera Populair. Oh, she was so beautiful. She had rosy cheeks and skin soft and pale like clouds. Her hair was wavy like the ocean and colored a rich gold. She was one of the most talented sopranos in the opera, as well.
Myself? I was nothing like her. My dark brown hair hung limply over my shoulders, but was wavy, like my mother's. Her green eyes shared no resemblance to my brown eyes.
My crooked, but sweet smile painted my lips as the curtain closed. The crowd began to file out and I ran backstage to greet my mother.
"Oh, Emily, darling!" My mother threw her arms around me.
"You were amazing, mother. Absolutely amazing!" I said. She kissed the top of my head.
"Thank you," she mused. "I hope one day you will be too."
"I don't think so, mother." My cheeks flushed red. "I won't amount to much, really."
"How dare you say that. A talented girl, like yourself…" she trailed off.
I knitted my eyebrows in confusion. "Yes?"
She smiled weakly and chuckled. She shook her head. "Go on."
I nodded and walked away, finding my friend, Jude.
He turned, hearing my greeting. "Hello, Emily!" His pearly-white smile was comforting to me.
"Did you enjoy the performance?" I asked.
"Your mother was amazing! I can tell you'll be just like her."
I laughed. "I don't think so, Jude. I sound like a screech-owl when I sing."
"I doubt that."
"Oh?" I raised my eyebrows, pursing my lips challengingly.
He chuckled. "Don't doubt yourself."
"Too late," I said, shrugging.
He nodded. "Okay, okay. You win…this time. I have to go."
I nodded with a silent sigh.
Soon, after Jude was gone, I walked to my room. It was next to my mothers, and not quite as fancy. There was a bed, a mirror and a bureau.
I sat down upon my bed, a yawn escaping my lips. My lavender dress hid my cold feet. I turned, looking out the stained-glass window in the wall of my room. The moon was rising and it was becoming late. I stared at the beautiful, glowing orb.
"The moon cried tears of crystal light…" I recited, quietly. My mother used to sing her a lullaby with that line.
Without changing, I had soon fallen asleep, the rays of the moon resting upon my face.