A/N: Sorry to say, this is probably the end of my frequent updates for a while. School is starting and AP classes are horrible when it comes to studying.... But, I shall continue to do my best in updating! At least once a week if I can manage it :) Please enjoy this!
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When Florence was finally sitting in her large bed, after trekking through the various tunnels hidden within the Opera Populaire, she found herself not tired whatsoever. In fact, she was wide awake. Florence sighed. She would not be able to sleep- she knew that was certain. Florence had slept late into what she supposed was the day, only having awoken maybe six hours ago.
Getting up from her bed, Florence paced the room. It was something she had picked up over the years, watching her father- he tended to pace a lot... Florence, thinking to herself, knew her father wouldn't be coming back to her for the next few hours. He never did when he was visiting with Meg.
"What to do?" Florence breathed, nibbling on her lip. Her pacing stopped as a smile broke over her face. She knew exactly what she wanted to do. Walking to the desk on which her masks were displayed, she picked up on black as night, before slinging on a matching cloak and dashing silently to one of the many hidden doorways. She was headed to the stables- a place she hadn't been in quite a while. She knew, technically, she wasn't suppose in the stables without her father- he had told her that the first time he had taken her there when she was ten years old- but she was drawn to the animals. And so she found it in times when both her father and Meg were occupied, she would do her best to find her way down to the stables.
The passage to the stable house never took Florence long to get to, especially when she ran. The piece of wall made no noise as it was pushed from its tight placement. Florence heard some of the horses stir as she lifted the hood to cover her hair. She pushed the secret doorway just so it was unnoticeable- she needed to be able to get back in the one way opening. Florence's callused bare feet padded lightly on soft hay underfoot, making no sound as Florence looked upon the horses, ensuring their conditions were well. As she thought, the carriage horses were probably the most fed and cared for, but the personal riding horses were still nicely maintained.
Florence stopped outside one of the riding horses' stalls, that of a plain tan gelding she had come to call Beau. He was her favorite, being the most social of the selection of fine horses. She stood on her toes, reaching over the door, and gently pulled his coarse tail.
"Oh, Beau," she sang in a soft whisper. The horse let out a low nicker, swishing its tail as he turned to face Florence. "Oh my Beau," Florence giggled softly as the horse nuzzled her cheek, "We must stay quiet, you silly creature! No one is allowed to know I'm here..." Florence swore she saw the horse roll its eyes at her reminder, and then.. she felt as if another pair of eyes was digging into her back.
Though she could not see him in the dark, he could see her in the brilliant beams of moonlight that sometimes sank through the windows of the stable. He was sitting up in the lofts, where his father and the rest of the coachmen and workers stayed. Wondering if he should confront the girl slinking in the darkness the young man slid under the railing that kept one from falling from the loft. As the young man pushed himself off the edge of the loft, landing almost silently in a heap of hay, he decided it's probably be best if he at least approached the strange girl, even if not to confront her.
Florence heard him before he even made his presence known. The gentle crunch of hay was all that was needed to remind her she was not in the right place and make her body go rigid. She did not move, though, in hopes perhaps she blended into the darkness.
"May I ask what you are doing here?" the young man's deep voice whispered. Florence took in a shaky breath before looking to the young man. He was around her age, maybe a few years her senior, and lanky with light features. "What's a pretty girl doing out this late? Are you lost?" the young man continued questioning in a low tone. The girl truly was lovely, though most of her features were hidden. Still he could make out a few things; porcelain-like skin, a petite stature, pale pink lips, and unbelievably dark eyes devoured his thoughts as he examined Florence.
"No," Florence answered softly, "I.. I live in the Opera Populaire." The boy looked over the girl's face once more, half veiled by the shadowy mask. He had met most of the ballerinas in the Opera Populaire- in fact, he had laid with a few of them- but he didn't seem to place any of the features to the rather plain ballerinas.
"I've never seen you before," the young man informed Florence, who bit her lip, "Are you sure you live here?"
"Yes," Florence nodded, nervously, "I have lived here all my life, actually." The young man arced an eyebrow, unbelievingly. The girl was at least eighteen- his own age- and the Opera Populaire had only been reconstructed maybe twelve years before.
"What's your name?" the young man asked, smirking at Florence.
"What's yours?" she countered quickly, taking a step away from the young man.
"Olivier. Olivier Hutchman," the young man answered, before inquiring, "And your name, Mademoiselle?"
Florence opened her mouth, about to tell Olivier her name- only the first name- when a low voice said it for her, over and over.
"Florence.... Florence..." She paled immensely, her already light skin becoming stark white.
"I must go," she breathed, and then ran past Olivier back the way she came. Caught off guard, he only spun to watch the girl disappear into the darkness.
"Wait!" he suddenly called after her, probably waking up some of the others in the loft, "Wait! Mademoiselle! You are going the wrong way!" Olivier came to the end of the stables to find... nothing. The girl had disappeared.
Olivier rubbed the back of his neck as he walked back to the front of the stable where the latter to the loft was. Of course, as soon as he was in view of the people lined at the loft's edge, he felt something light strike his head. Still wincing, Olivier turned to see some of the younger workers and coachmen looking down at himself.
"What is wrong with you, boy?" the oldest coachman- twenty two- hissed, "If you had woken your father he would have worn your hide!"
"What are you doing out of bed, Olivier?" the youngest worker- thirteen, an orphan- asked in a whisper.
"There was a girl down here," Olivier replied to both of the speakers, "Down here, by the old riding horses. She was cloaked with a mask and... She disappeared just now."
The eldest coachman and a couple others snorted at the tale, while all the rest of the group of around ten gasped.
"Did you see the Phantom of the Opera?" one asked, wide eyed.
"He said it was a girl, stupid," another mumbled, "Besides, the Phantom of the Opera died many years ago." Olivier smiled at their absurd mutterings of the Phantom of the Opera. It was defiantly not an old, disheveled man Olivier had seen.
"What do you think she was Olivier?" questioned the youngest. Olivier pulled himself from thoughts of the mystery girl and looked to the loft of wondering faces.
"I don't know really," Olivier chuckled softly, "An angel, perhaps? A ghost, maybe. Yes, that girl was the new Opera Ghost, boys." The boys all began girlish gossip, and Olivier drifted back to thoughts of her- the little Opera Ghost.
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(BEING REWRITTEN) An Opera Ghost- A Phantom of the Opera Fan Fiction
Fanfiction((Currently, I am rewriting this story to fit my current writing style, given this was written when I was in high school and I am in college now. There are a lot of changes, but I am leaving the original because I still like looking back on it. You...
