It's Just Begun, The Music Of The Night

Chapter One.

Scrawling notes furiously across the page as the notes surrounded her in a whirlpool of emotion always seemed to calm her. Finding the proper note of what it sounded like when played was the problem. She had to rack her brain in order to find the perfect sound and note combination but at other times the notes just flowed.

"Emmy!" A stern familiar voice snapped her out of her concentrated composing.

Her head swiveled to the side to come face to face with the man who raised her and the manager of the opera house, her father. She bit her lip and frowned as she tried to give him the most innocent look she could muster.

"Oui, papa?" Her voiced called like silk in response to his scolding features.

"What are you doing? You should be rehearsing with the ballerinas and chorus girls!" His face was flustered and sweat beaded on his brow.

Immediately she could tell he was hiding something. He never yelled at her and never cared if she made it to a rehearsal. She always made up for everything in the performances, Madame Giry had informed her, her dancing was exquisite. Meanwhile the chorus director didn't even notice how much her voice had changed over time, not just due to puberty and growing.

"Désolé, papa. I was just working on writing a new piece." She explained quickly. "But forgive me, I will go practice now."

Emelia was preparing to walk away when her father grabbed hold of her arm. She frowned and watched as the anger faded from his features when he saw her bright face. His grip loosened and she searched his face to figure out why he was so on edge.

"No, Emelia, I'm sorry. I just...I mean..." He let out a long sigh. "Things have been very stressful lately and honestly I just want at least one performance to be good so..."

When her father didn't finish his thought she sighed and went to go towards the other ballerinas, she usually practiced with them first, but heard a commotion.

La Carlotta had begun yelling, again, this time only God could know what it was that had made the aged Prima Donna yell so loudly. Her yelling was common and everyone knew she planned to retire soon, let's just say she was getting old and had not aged gracefully.

When her and her father walked on the stage to see what the commotion was about he stopped mid-stride forcing her to stop behind him. Carlotta was yelling with her thick Spaniard accent and could barely even be understood. As much as Carlotta annoyed everyone, Emelia couldn't help but think of how much she would miss the drama queen when she retired.

"Signora, what is going on?" Emelia's father had to nearly scream to be heard over Carlotta's yelling.

"No! None of dis supposed sweet talk! I'm done! Zis is my last performance and zen I am done wis you! All you do is sit around and do notsing! Well I am done! For real dis time, you get dis NO MORE!" She yelled and stomped to her dressing room with her troupe following behind.

Emelia watched as her father ran quickly and irritatedly after her. She sighed and went to follow after him, to tell him it wasn't worth it, when suddenly a voice called for her causing her to stop dead in her tracks.

"Emelia, come here." Called the all too familiar accent of Madame Giry, the ballerina's teacher and box keeper.

Emmy froze and looked down at her ballet slippers, they were worn and used, her second pair since she had come to live here. The sixteen year old strawberry blond turned to see Madame Giry standing behind her with her arms folded over her chest. Emelia could see the frustration basically rolling off her in waves.

"Come on, you need to practice like everyone else. You may be talented but you cannot just shirk your duties like this...daily! I will be speaking with your father about this. Understood?" All anger left Madame Giry's voice.