Mask of Red Death (A Phantom of the Opera Phan Fic)

The Old Opera House ~ Chapter 1

Paris Opera House, 1950

It was a bitterly cold evening in early December. Not the type of weather one would be caught browsing the streets of Paris in.

A young girl in a long black coat walked briskly through the snow covered side walks. The street lights illuminating little to none of the way. The cold wind bit through her small frame, chilling her to the bone. Her teeth began to chatter, and she tucked her arms in her pockets.

She took a right hand turn down a wide street. In front of her lie the once grand Opera Populaire. It was breathtaking. The ancient architecture was still lovely, besides the fact of the remodeling from the fire. The girl's heart began to pound faster. It was just like her great grandmother had told her about.

She walked up the marble steps, careful not to make to much noise. The lion head door nobs, looked at her with a mocking grin. As if they knew something she didn't. She gently pushed the door open, and popped her head through. It was silent; just the way she had planned it. She took a few steps inside; making sure her tennis shoes didn't squeak. It was so lovely, but her mind was set on a different goal.

She carefully climbed the spiral-like stair chase, and walked toward one of the back doors that lead to the box seats. She tip toed through the carpeted hallway; counting the rooms as she passed. Her heart raced as she counted the box numbers. "Eight, seven, six...five!" She whispered.

Box five, the Phantom's box. Her great grandmother had told her story after story of the wondrous Phantom of the Opera. She had desired from a very young age to see this mysterious phantom for herself. Something about him gave her a thrill of excitement. Ever since her family moved to Paris from Rome when she was eight, she had waited for the perfect opportunity to visit the opera house.

Her heart was beating rapidly as she reached for the curtain. Her fragile hand pulled back the soft, silky clothe

"Hello?" She called softly.

No one answered.

"Is there anyone here?" She asked slightly louder.

Nothing.

She sighed and turned around, nearly bumping into a figure clad in all black. She gasped and tried to dart around it.

The large figure grabbed her arm tightly. "Who are you?" The shadow demanded.

"I-I'm..um...are y-you the p-phantom?" She fumbled for words.

"Ignorant child! How dare you enter my domain! Who are you?" The shadow boomed.

"My name is Angeline...Angeline Giry." She squeaked.

"Giry? W-what is your grandmother's name?" The figure seemed hesitant.

Angeline looked closely at her captor. His face was covered by a hat, and his entire person was draped in a long black cloak. He had on leather gloves, that held coldly to Angeline's arm.

"My grandmother's name is Meg. Why do you ask?"

The figure hesitated. He let go of Angeline's arm and started to walk toward the door.

"Wait!" Angeline ran after him. "You never told me your name!"

The figure stopped, and Angeline nearly bumped into his back.

"Child, I do not have a name. It has been long dead; ever since this opera house died." The figure said, remorse filling his voice.

"But the opera house isn't dead." Angeline said.

The figure scoffed. "Not dead? Are you daft? There is not a soul in the place; how is it not dead?"

Angeline frowned. "But you are here. Doesn't that count?"

"My child, I have no soul."

Angeline glared at the figure. "Why do you hide your face?" She reached to remove his hat.

The figure jerked away. "Do not touch that! Have your parents taught you nothing?"

Angeline lowered her head. "My parents died in a car accident when I was ten."

"Oh, forgive me. I-I had no idea." The figure looked around. "Who is your guardian, my dear."

"I live with my grandmother, but she is ill so I take care of myself." Angeline murmured.

"I see. How old are you know?" The figure asked.

"I am eighteen." Angeline replied.

"E-eighteen?" The figure stuttered. "Just like Christine..." He murmured under his breath.

"Pardon?" Angeline asked.

"Do you sing?" The shadow changed the subject.

Angeline was caught off guard. "Um...well I was given lessons, but I was not very good."

"Sing for me." The shadow said.

"Excuse me?" Angeline was confused.

"Sing for me!" The voice boomed through the empty opera house.

"Oh...y-yes sir?" Angeline replied. She stood up straight and lifted her chin, like her instructor had taught her.

"Say you love me every waking moment 

Turn my head with talk of summertime 

Say you need me with you, now and always 

Promise me that all you say is true 

That's all I ask of you..."

Angeline sang softly; letting her fragile voice float loftily about. She was about to sing the second line when the figure interrupted her.

"That is enough." He said plainly. He turned to walk away.

Angeline relaxed a little. "I-I'm sorry. It wasn't very good was it?"

The figure stopped cold. "No...it was lovely...I..." He trailed off.

Angeline reached her hand toward his. She took the gloved hand and held it gently.

The figure looked at it. He did not move or jerk it away.

"I'm sorry...about um...well you know." Angeline said softly. She saw a small tear run down the side of the figures face. Curiosity struck again at what this man looked like. Her other hand reached for his hat once more.

The figure turned slightly, making it nearly impossible for Angeline's shorter arms to reach his hat. "Come, we should get you home." The figure murmured.

Angeline narrowed her brow. "But...okay." She accepted fate. She would not be able to see the true side of this figure tonight.

The figure took her out the back way of the opera house, and down one of the narrower streets that lead toward down town.

"You must go on from here. I don't dare go any farther." The figure let go of Angeline's hand.

Angeline then realized she had been holding his hand for nearly four blocks. She blushed a little and thanked the man. She began to walk away, when she realized she had not gotten his name."Hey you never told me your..." She turned but the man was gone.

She sighed and walked another twelve cold blocks to her small home. Angeline was happy to see her grandmother was still fast asleep. "She didn't notice." Angeline smiled and kissed her on the forehead.

She quickly stripped of her jeans, old t-shirt and tennis shoes and got into some pajamas. They were warm and the warmth of the blankets and bed made her fall into a deep sleep. The Phantom played tricks in her dreams; she would have to see him again.