The Phantom of the Opera

The Paris opera house, the jewel of the Persian theatre world was a splendor to behold. It's domed roof flanked by golden sculptures and its alabaster majesty made it a sight to behold. The pride and joy of course was its opera's that were performed by only the most seasoned and well trained performers. The corpse de ballets were also on hand to bring the audience to its knees with their many beauties. Among them two girls, close as sisters. Meg Giry, the daughter of the formidable ballet mistress Madame Giry and young Christine Daae. Christine was the odd one out of the two after losing her father to consumption. You see, Daae had been employed to become the new violinist in the orchestra for the opera. After his passing, Christine, then just a young woman of 18 traveled to Paris so that her father would not go to the grave with a sullied reputation for abandoning a career at the opera house. The managers were disappointed at the loss of a truly magnificent violinist but were intrigued when they found that Christine had a back ground in song and dance. A brief audition with Madam Giry and Mousser Reye, who conducted the orchestra, secured Christine to the company.

After much grieving for her lost father Christine attempted to carry on as best she could. Her thoughts never too far from who she had lost. She found herself waking in the night and wandering around the empty theatre. She loved the ballet dormitories but there was something about the beauty and magic of the theater that made her heart beat fast. The thrill of being a prima donna or even a prima ballerina was a dream. Something Christine longed for so much it hurt. One night she sat on the edge of the stage before the grand opening of Faust and wept a little, she had wanted nothing more than to come to Paris and sing in the opera with her father playing for her the most beautiful music one could hear. Sadly neither of these things would ever be. Softly she began singing the aria from Faust and lost herself in the power of it. She realized how loud she sang and quickly closed her mouth. She hid in the folds of the red velvet curtain hoping no one had heard her. If she was caught out of bed after hours she would be in trouble for certain. After a few minutes no one seemed to have noticed. Christine quickly flew back to her room and crawled under the thick blankets.

Christine had been wrong though. Someone had heard her. Deep in the bowels of the opera he worked tirelessly at writing a master piece. Erik was obsessive with his work and was able to go several days without food or sleep to perfect it. Currently he did not know where to begin. Don Juan triumphant was in its early stages. He had a title and a bare outline but no story, no score and no characters. Fuming at his own incompetence, the so called "phantom of the opera" decided to walk up to the stage to see if he could gain some inspiration. Coming out of one of his many secret passageways he heard a voice. At first he thought he may have misread the time and feared he had come up during rehearsal. Not that he didn't watch the rehearsals but it was usually from a higher venue so as to avoid detection. Seeing how empty the wings were he knew he wasn't mistaken but was intruding on a young woman. She sat forlornly at the edge of the stage in a pale blue nightgown with her dark brown hair in a braid and sadly, sweetly sang the aria from Faust. Faust was an old favorite and he was anticipating its gala night but something about this young girl intrigued him. He had seen her before, though for the life of him he could not remember where. As she raised her head to sing louder and clearer he realized she was the daughter of the brilliant violinist who had been hired a month before but had never shown up. It was a shame too; the man had been one of the best Erik had heard in years. The intricate tunes and music he played were breath taking. In fact next to himself, he had never heard such perfection. Seeing the tear stained face and hearing the sorrow in her song Erik realized why the man, Daae was it? Had never come to take his place. Though the daughter did not seem to have what one would call the ideal voice, Erik could tell that she had the passion and potential to become a great singer. Her high notes meant of course that she was a soprano but with training he felt she could possibly be a coloratura. While he tried to place her range note for note she noticed her own volume and promptly fled behind the curtain. Now thoroughly distracted Erik waited until he saw her slip out of the mass of velvet and hurry back to her dormitory before continuing his walk. He climbed the stairs to the roof of the building. Looking out at the Paris streets on clear nights like this always got him to thinking. Only now instead of Don Juan he was caught up in the little girl. She had that recognizable love of the stage, of the theatre, of the music. Having seen dozens of singers on that stage Erik knew the difference between a thirst for fame and a general love. Still he feels that a girl in that position deserved a chance. Her voice could become something so beautiful it would be blinding. The question now was how to go about it. The current Prima Donna, Andrea Richard, was kind and talented but was too smart to play into his tricks or attempt to help a girl who could be her replacement. He knew Andréa's days were numbered anyway, at 36 she would hardly be able to play the young ingénue parts for long. The mangers were already in negotiations to have a younger singer, Carlotta Guidicelli, brought in from Italy where she made a name for herself four years ago. According to the letters and word of mouth, she was a striking redheaded beauty all of 29 with everything going for her. Perhaps she would be up to the challenge? Erik pondered and decided he would have to do it. He didn't know when or how but he would.

It all began when he left Christine a note saying her father's promise had come true. Her angel would be waiting for her in the empty wig and costume room at midnight. Christine thought it a cruel prank but no one knew of her father's promise. Despite her inner sadness, the solace she had taken in her friends helped ease the pain somewhat. Up until this point Christine felt she had dealt with the loss fairly well but the memory of this "Angel of music" threatened to bring the pain back fresh. That night Christine rose from her bed and made her way to the empty room. In the room sat a single candle and a sheet of music. It was "Pur dicesti, o bocca bella". It was a lovely aria by Antonio Lotti. Lotti? She was a little confused. Lotti was a nickname she once had, was this a coincidence? Suddenly a voice rang out, "Do not be frightened child, it is I your angel of music" for the next three years she would accept her angel without question.