Hopeful Soul: A Phantom Story

Chapter One.

Hey, everybody!

Before beginning with the story, I would like to thank those who read my other writings. I enjoy reading your comments - they make me laugh. Secondly, this story is one that I hope will be somewhat lengthy. I want to entertain you guys as much as possible. If there is something you want to discover in this book, or a 'mystery' you want to be solved, please let me know :-)

Anyways, enjoy the story!

bold italics= point of view
italics= the past
underlined italics= a dream
underlined bold= book/opera title

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ERIK:

I took advantage of the empty, wooden catwalks that hung high above the stage, stalking around with my lithe feline Ayesha. The ballet girls were headed for their dormitories - all but one. Madame Giry, my assistant in most cases, stayed beside a young brunette who came out of the small chapel below the dormitories in such a depressing state. Seeing the child cry brought something out of me. I felt my heart tear inside and knew something about her must be special. She seemed so sweet and I wonder what could make such an innocent flower weep like that.

Ayesha brushed her soft, black cheek against the leg of my midnight black trousers, a soft purr vibrating from her throat. I nodded down at her and she turned her body, creeping towards her tunnel down to the house on the lake. I saw Madame Giry glance up at the catwalk and knew at that instant that she was the young girl Giry was talking about. Christine, I believe her name was. I might say that even though she was barely into her sixteenth year that she was exquisitely beautiful.

From the catwalk, I slithered down a steel pole. The floorboards squeaked shut as I fell to the cellars. The air was damp and cool, but I was accustomed to the tough area. I touched my wrist, picking up each rigid detail of the bones of my hand as I went in the direction of the chapel. At this level of the cellars - the third floor below the opera - the poor and homeless lived at the very end near the train stations. If ever they were spotted, a gendarme might shoot them. But since I was 'lucky' enough to live in the fifth cellar, I could avoid the ruthless French guards.

I pushed aside the large brick that blocked my view into the chapel, which I was able to see into with the aid of a single-sided glass I had created. Christine sulked down the stairs with Madame Giry, who held her close as soon as they were alone - or so they thought, "Will you be alright, dear?"

Madame asked this in the sweetest tone possible. Suddenly, I recalled a conversation I heard between the girl and another male voice. He promised her an angel, "Hopefully. May I have time alone?"

Her voice was something I could listen to any day. The soft, high tone of it left a warm feeling in my chest. Madame nodded and glanced to the orange flame of the furnace before leaving her alone.

Christine became irritably quiet as Madame left. She grazed the small table that was set in front of the glass and I looked down at her small, white hands, ghosting the cool glass with my fingertips. It was almost as if she felt my presence as her doe-like eyes gazed up at the glass. She too set her hands on the glass, almost as if she saw me. Christine turned her head upward and sighed out, "Father? Are you with me?"

That one whisper explained a lot to me. The poor girl was orphaned, much like I had been - only differently so. If only there was a way to let her know it was alright, "I thought not."