The Phantom of the Opera

2.2K 59 2
                                    

That old crone has been in this opera house for far too long. Her horrible singing, her many daily tantrums, and the way she treats everyone in the Opera Populaire is enough to make one go insane. For the past three years Erik has had to deal with Carlotta and her racket, and now enough is enough. It was time for her to step off of her platform, leave the Opera House for good, and have someone else take her place. Someone better.

Someone like Christine. The perfect Miss Christine Daae. The girl who could do no wrong, who sings like an angel.

His angel.

Erik's plan was already unraveling in his head as he stalked above the stage in the rafters, hidden in the darkness like a shadow. Silent as night, the stage crew passed by him without a second glance. Once the coast was clear, Erik stepped out for a moment and gazed down onto the stage. Carlotta was having another one of her fits, the new managers frozen by her sudden and dramatic outburst.

Erik smiled. Now was his chance! With the diva in such a drastic state, one slip up and she'd be out of this Opera House for good. And he knew exactly what to do.

Slipping back into the shadows and sneaking down to the 3rd level, Erik made his way towards the large beam that was perfectly placed right above her head. He knew that the space would be empty, for Joseph Buquet, who's usual post was by the beam, was rarely ever at his station. Usually drunk and off to spy on girls, the space was left empty for Erik to observe and cause a disaster every once in a while.

Just as he was about to come out of the darkness to make his move he stopped in his tracks. Standing in front of him was a woman. Erik tilted his head, puzzled. The only women that he had ever seen up in the rafters were the ballet rats that had dared to climb even to the first level. But this woman was no ballet rat, judging by her clothes and physique. She wore a light blue dress with white frill around the edges, not a costume or a ballerina uniform. She was no chorus girl for the fact that she was not practicing with the others. She stood, leaning against the ledge as she stared down onto the stage, relaxed. As if she was meant to be up here.

Erik shook his head. Now was not the time to wonder about this random girl. Now was the time to find a way to get rid of her, so he can then get rid of Carlotta. Then he can look around and find out why she was up in the rafters in the first place. Act first, questions later.

Looking around, Erik spotted a spare candelabra near him. He reached out and took it from it's spot, blowing out the flame as he stared at the girl. Slowly he inched towards her, the candelabra held aloft in his hands. As he reached her, she stiffened and stood up straight. Not wasting another moment, Erik swung. The candelabra hit her head with a loud THUNK! The woman cried out softly, and fell to the floor in a heap.

Erik huffed and placed placed the candle aside. Looking over the edge, he gazed down as Carlotta started to prepare herself for the aria. Just as he was about to reach over and untie the two cleats holding the beam up he heard a yelp. Erik looked down at the girl, noticing that she was still awake. Slowly Erik knelt down to her, the woman's eyes staring wide at him. He slowly tilted his head at her. Her eyes were a striking sapphire blue that gazed back into his emerald ones in awe. Or possibly horror.

Erik slowly reached out to her, cupping her chin in his hand. She did not flinch, only stared at him in almost... recognition.

Erik shook those thought away and expertly thrust his pointer finger into a pressure point under her jaw. Her whole body seized and her eyes rolled into her head, and with that she was out like a light, her body collapsing onto the floor. Hopefully, when she wakes up, she'll think of this moment as just a dream.

Without another moment to loose Erik stood, gazing down onto the stage. Carlotta had begun singing already. Everyone was calm and quiet as they listened to her. Erik, on the other hand, cringed at her song, her voice sounding like nails on a chalkboard.

Of Masks And RosesWhere stories live. Discover now