Oneshots, ideas and rejects.

Phantom of The Opera

Calliope Euterpe

Paris' streets were busy as always. The wonderful autumn leafs fell around me like snowflakes, every single one different from the one before it.
The biting breeze reminded me a little of the Madame Giry, she was smooth, and every move she made was choreographed to a certain natural perfection, but she was also harsh and unforgiving if you didn't do what she told you to.

I marvelled at the beauty of the Opera Populaire. The impressive building stood proudly, it's marble columns and architecture demanding you take second glances as you passed it in the 9th arrondissement.

I had suffered an injury three years earlier. A crushed ankle. As a ballet dancer an injury like that was a certain death sentence to your career, no matter how good you were, that ankle would never be the same.
It would ache every time I dared just thinking about putting on my pointe shoes, but I did it every now and then anyway when the stage wasn't used for practicing some ridiculous play.
I kept myself busy by watching different operas and theatre plays all over Europe, I even got to help choreographing ballet pieces sometimes. I loved to travel, though I always returned to the Opera Populaire.

Calliope Euterpe. My names are both names from the Greek muses. Calliope is the leader of the other muses, the muse of epic poetry and song, and Euterpe is the muse of music.
Surprisingly enough most of my friends and coworkers just call me Clio, a clever abbreviation of Calliope since Clio is yet another one of the nine muses.

"Ms. Euterpe! They are practising for an opera called Hannibal on the stage at the moment, but I am sure you are welcome to watch. Madame Giry always seem to enjoy your visits immensely!" I smile at the old stagehand Joseph as he opens the door to the theatre's auditorium for me.

"Thank you Mr. Buquet." He had worked as a stage hand for as long as I could remember, which was a little over ten years.

"Oh my, —Calliope! You're back! How was London my dear?"

"Madame Giry! It was lovely, so many new things, a whole city to explore, and their opera was amazing! Such a beautiful building." I had been gone for a whole month this time. Usually I kept it to two weeks, but this time I'd stayed a little longer to help out with a ballet they were performing for her majesty the queen.
"We missed you. A lot has changed in the last month, two new owners, Richard Firmin and Gilles André. I believe Lefèvre is showing them around as we speak." Madame Giry says as she leads me onto the scene.

"Girls! This is Calliope, some of you may know her, some of you may not. For those of you who do not, Calliope is the best leading soprano the Opera Populaire has ever had, she was also exceptionally good at ballet." I felt blood rush to and heat up my cheeks as Madame Giry praised me.
"Thank you Madame."

"Oh. Calliope is back." Upon hearing my name spoken with such distaste and strangely enough at the same time respect I turn around with a huge smile on my face.
"Carlotta! Beautiful as ever! Hearing my name fall from your lips is like a long lost love finally returning home." Carlotta rolls her eyes and smile at my sarcasm.

"It is good to have you back, I must admit I've missed your unladylike behaviour and mischievousness." She says quietly for only us to hear as we greet each other with a short kiss to the other's cheek.
Carlotta and I had against all odds formed some sort of mutual respect through the years of working together and I had come to consider her as a friend.. —or at least an acquaintance of sorts.

I moved to the side of the stage as everyone began practising Hannibal again.

"Calliope! At last the angel of music has returned to us, the Opera Populaire's muse of all muses." I turned surprised at the sound of the familiar voice.