Phantom of the Opera Chocolate Eyes

A voice broke the thoughts of a mere shadow, who was usually swallowing the dark depths of the opera house, not bothering to let the candles flicker, flame bouncing in the air. Three years had passed since the awful fire, a night filled with deception, heartbreak, and tears. A broken heart usually doesn't heal, unless it was never broken. He rushed to see who it was, he had gone through the path so many time it was like a second nature. He could hear voices. "Yes, new ownersof le Opera Populaire. We are to clean up for their arrival. A woman, man, and I think they may have said daughter?"

"With your memory it's probably a son." After the two idiotes started with their endless, retarded word fights Erik rolled his eyes and flew down the hall back to his cavern.

Flipping by the candle without a single glance he sat down, thinking in the darkness that overcame him. "Who dare invade my opera house? I must see them at once, see if they are fit to run le Opera Populaire!"

--

The next day he waited, consumed in his thoughts. Every time he thought of culture, art, or anything resembling a point, it always drifted back to Christine. He didn't love her anymore, and figured out he had never. He still hurt, though. Even if you think you are in love, it has to be some strong passion and belief drawn into it. She was cruel, deceptive, but angelic.

He fought back the tears as he rushed down the path, resuming to the stage from Box Five. _Sooner or later, they will come to this spot, _he thought with a sneer. They would come, and they wouldn't know they would be judged by every movement, sound, and word they had. He leaned forward on the railing as he heard footsteps. Coming down to the stage he saw a flip of blonde hair. _Meg Giry, sweet girl, _he thought.

But he looked again, and saw it wasn't Meg. She had dark blonde wavy hair that fell to a little below her shoulders like a waterfall. Her body was curvy and slender. She turned towards the Box Five, seemingly looking at him. Erik grinned, he knew she couldn't.

The girl at the stage was named Faith Amour. Her family had bought the opera house, and she couldn't have been more excited. One thought was on her mind as she raced down to the stage. _Shall the Opera Ghost show himself? _she thought. Then she laughed at herself. _The man is not ghost, ghosts are based on ignorance. If he's even real than he's just a soft-moving man. _

Faith laughed at herself, and turned as she heard her mother come in. She had curly blonde hair with penetrating blue eyes. "My dear, do you like the stage?"

"Yes! When shall I perform?" Her mother, Deau, laughed.

"Sometimes you seem like a little girl, you're nineteen!" Faith rolled her eyes, the first time Erik noticed her eyes. They were a deep chocolate, concentrated but beautiful. Erik rolled his eyes at her immaturity.

"We just bought a famous opera house, am I supposed to walk to my room and read?" Deau shook her head with a smile.

"I suppose you're right, but I don't want you in here alone."

"And Vicomtess Chagny's room is much better!" Deau rolled her eyes and walked out. Faith gazed around at the stage, a glow on her face. She could imagine her singing and them clapping. It flashed before her eyes, and she smiled.

She turned towards the empty seats, visualized herself in a black corset, and sang. Her voice raised and she could imagine their astonished gasps.

Erik looked at her surprisingly. Her voice had a magnificent tone, but she was like an organ, she needed fine tuning. "I shan't have another Carlotta in my opera house," he hissed to himself, recalling the ear-splitting voice of the former Prima Madonna.

Faith walked into her room, rather tired. She turned a corner, but someone was waiting for her. A light-blonde-haired was sitting on her bed. She had a smile on her face. "Madame may I help you?"

"I am Madame Giry's daughter, Meg Giry."

"Oh, please excuse me. I didn't know."

"It's fine," she said, standing up.

"Why are you here?" Faith finally asked.

"I wanted to let you know that the Opera Ghost is real. My mother made me promise not to tell anyone, but you shall be living in this room."

"Ghosts don't exist, he must be a simple man," Faith said, glancing at the full-length mirror cautiously.

"I suppose you're right. Oh well, you should rest up. You are to be the only soprano because the ballet rats can't sing at all." She smiled. "I know I may have frightened you, just showing up like this. I am dreadfully sorry, but I thought...maybe we could become friends? It's terrible being in a place where you know no one."

"Yes, of course!" Faith said, smiling. Meg returned the favor, then walked out of her room. Sighing, Faith sat down on her bed. Her eyes wandered over the room, and finally rested on the full-length mirror. "I'm not easily frightened, messuir."

On the other side, Erik smirked and turned down the corridor.

Faith changed out of her gown into a black, silky nightgown that ended right abover her knees with a lacey pattern. She unbound her hair and laid down in the bed, pulling the soft white sheets up to her chin. Her chocolate eyes gazed around the room, her only secret pondering her mind before she drifted into a deep sleep.


End file.

Phantom of the Opera, Drama, Romance