Phantom of the Opera 1. Chapter 1

In Paris, a young boy wanders the streets. He isn't poor, nor unfortunate, but he is not greatly gifted in the household he was born into, either. He is the only man of his household, and his poor mother works so hard to bring his family the food and supplies they use every day. He has a few sisters, some younger, some older; all of them, beautiful people in his eyes. He only wished there was more he could do to help his family.

He tried his best to always be mature, and level-headed. He tried so hard to live up to the name a man gets when they come of age, but it seemed that every day he played this character who lived by his name, he felt more and more empty. Every day, at some time, whenever he could fit it in, he would visit the old playhouse. There hadn't been much activity or interest in the building for quite some time, and every now and then, an elder resident of the town would tell him stories of its former grandiuer. He did not want many people to know, but the lives that the former residents of the old Opera house lived intrigued him greatly.

On rainy days, he would spend his time exploring the corridors and vacant rooms in the vast building, always taking someone with him to help him keep his sense of direction, but when the days were bright and shiny, he would come alone. He had taken a particular liking to a certain room. It was a practice room of sorts; rather small, yet cozy, with a piano along the back wall and a lot of things that the young boy was yet clueless as to their purpose. It was in this room that he had found a primitive sort of flute. It was made of wood, straight and short, with six holes on top and one on the bottom, and an angled hole where the sound would gain a whistling tone quality. It was more of a child's toy than a professional instrument, but whenever he would come, he would play it. He never dared to take it from the room, however, for he was embarassed to have such an interest.

It had been a good day; the young boy had recieved many kind smiles and enlightening praises from those whom he aimed to please, and left early in the afternoon to visit his favorite room in the old playhouse. He had for a while figured out how to play a rather intriguing melody, and labored each day to further it in its length and sound, trying to improve on the day before each time he played. He was particularily pleased with his work today, and felt in the best of spirits, when something strange happened. In the middle of the song, the piano in the back of the room began to play. The boy stopped and stared, dumbfounded for the better part of a minute, and listened. The tune was very similar to what he had been playing, and continued on where he had always left off! The boy dropped the flute in dumbfounded horror, and fumbled at the door, finally opening it, and ran out of the building screaming into the falling night.

He never stopped, and did not look back, until he was safely inside his home. He buried his face in his mother's chest and cried his poor little heart out.

"Little Matthew, what's the matter?" His mother asked, very confused.

"It's the ghost, Momma! The ghost was playing the piano!"


	2. Chapter 2

"It's the ghost, Momma! The ghost was playing the piano!"

"Ghost? Piano? Dear Matthew, where have you been _going_ that's gotten you so riled?" His mother questioned.

In his fear, he told her about where he had been going.

"In the old Opera House, Momma! I... I found something there, and I was playing in one of the rooms. And the piano-- the piano began to play on it's own, Momma! It scared me!" Matthew sobbed his explaination into his mother's bosom, while as he spoke, her face grew pale. She had heard the stories of the Phantom of the Opera, but barely anyone spoke of them anymore. It had, in their time, almost become an old wive's tale that mothers used to keep their children out of dark alleyways and out of trouble.

"Little Matthew, please do not visit the Opera house again," she almost begged the young boy. Secretly she feared for his soul, but did not want to scare him any more than he already was.

"I won't Momma, I won't..." He lied. He knew he would go back, as much as he wished he didn't have to. He had grown rather attached to that child's toy of a flute, and would rather not leave it behind if he could help it.

Young Matthew found himself too afraid of the entrancing building to enter it for nearly a week, but the thought of the little flute he had found remained strong at the edge of his mind. As much as he would have liked to have gone in alone to obtain the item himself, he could not bring himself to do it. In all of his shame and fear, he asked one of his dearest older sisters; Carmelynn, to take him to the old Opera house again.

When the skies were grey and gloomy, and the rain poured down upon the roads of Paris, Carmelynn was often the one who brought young Matthew to the old Opera House. She, herself, loved the place, and often found it a pity that it was no longer used. She was the sort that dreamed of what no longer is, and wished it still were, and so found no shame or fear in bringing her dear brother Matthew along for the pure joy of it. Her joy of the stories she had heard of the old Opera Populaire shadowed any doubt in her brother when he asked her to take him there on a clear, sunny day.

Upon arriving, young Matthew grabbed his sister's hand, and led her rather vigorously to the abandoned room in which he would play. Opening the door slowly, he clutched her hand fearfully, hoping that the piano would not begin to play again, and when it didn't, he broke away from her and rushed in to clutch his little flute.

His sister had not ever been inside this room, as when Matthew and herself were last here, she was too busy examining a rather intriguing pattern in the fading wallpaper to have gone in and explored as Matthew had. She opened the door wider to let in more light, and gazed into the room with awe. The number of decorative metal touches that stood in the corners and hung on the walls that were blanketed by a rather thick layer of dust caught her eye. Matthew had never thought twice about them. Carmelynn's gaze fell on the piano, and she began to walk over to it.

Matthew shot a quick glance to his sister, and then to the piano, and in a fit of fearful excitement, he called out to her in a warning that almost sounded like a raged threat.

"Don't touch the piano!"

Carmelynn broke from her awe, and stared at her little brother in suprise. He had never said a word that was bent in anger towards anyone! He was always an innocent, good-hearted little gentleman.

"Matthew..."

"Don't touch it," he warned once more, a bit softer this time.

"Alright..." She replied akwardly, and together they left the room.

Matthew tried to hide his flute, in hopes that he wouldn't have to tell her about his hobby if he didn't have to. It wasn't that he was afraid she'd be embarassed of him, he just didn't want her to tell everyone about it. Soon enough they would be home, and he could hide it away, safe and sound.

But when they reached the grand doors leading to the outside, they found that it had unpredictably began to pour.

"Great, and I didn't bring my coat..." Carmelynn moaned.

"... Are we stuck here?" Matthew asked his sister, looking up to her, a little bit of fear in his eyes.

"At least until it lightens up. Mother would not appreciate me giving you a cold, dear little Matthew," she offered, as she ushered him away from the doorways. "Come now, out of the cold..."

They sat on the great large stairway in the grand entryway of the Opera house as both of them stared idly at the dusty golden statues, most of them covered heavily with cobwebs that swayed in the ever so slight breeze.

"Carmelynn?"

"Yes, Matthew?"

"I'm bored..."

She stared at her little brother, and couldn't help but smile. She adored the little man, and all his politeness.

"Well, let's take a walk," she offered.

"Where are we going?" Matthew hopped to his feet in excitement.

"Shhh! It's a suprise!" Carmelynn told him as she took his hand and led him deeper into the Opera House. With no second thoughts, he eagerly followed.

The young boy's sister, Carmelynn, led him up the grand staircase, and through a few hallways, but it was not long until they had entered the grand theater room where all of the Opera Populaire's performances were put on. She had taken him here before. Matthew took a front-row seat as his sister took the stage. His feet hardly touched the floor, and he swung them back and forth eagerly.

Carmelynn spun around a few times and posed. "Ta-daa!" She laughed, "What do you think, little Matt?"

They used to play this game all the time! Carmelynn would pretend that she was a performer, and Matthew would be the excited audience member who gave her endless good critiques. He laughed and clapped his hands.

"_'Marvelous! Splendid!'_ How was that, Carmelynn?"

"Perfect, little Matt!"

Carmelynn continued the charade, and even sang a few notes of their favorite songs while on the stage. Their voices and laughter echoed and resounded through the vast room, and Matthew's praises to his sister grew more extravagant and excited as she went on. Their game was cut short, however, when Carmelynn suddenly stopped and looked around.

"... Carmelynn...?" Matthew questioned, "Carmelynn, why did you stop?"

She looked around her, a little bit spooked. "It's nothing, Matthew, just the rain," she lied. But she continued, beginning a little dance number that she had made up on her own time, but before Matthew could begin his delightful praise once again, she dropped back down to her heels and bent her knees as if she were suddenly going to break out into a run.

"Carmelynn...?" Matthew asked, becoming a little bit frightened.

"What was that?" Carmelynn said, spooked.

"What was _what_, Carmelynn?" Matthew asked, concerned. He hopped out of his seat and walked up to the edge of the stage to be closer to his sister.

"You didn't hear it? It was a voice, someone was singing! A woman's voice, I heard it, but it was not my own!" Carmelynn padded over to the edge of the stage and knelt down by Matthew, who craved her presence and strength.

"Carmelynn, this isn't the time for games..." Matthew said to her. He spoke, trying to sound unafraid, but it came out shaky, and showed the true fear he was beginning to feel.

Carmelynn looked young Matthew in the eyes just as a large rumble of thunder made its way through the long empty corridors of the old Opera house.

"Yes, yes..." She agreed, shakily. "Matthew, we must go," she stated, hopping down from the stage, and taking him by the hand once more.

"Carmelynn!" Matthew called out as she led him away.

She led him out of the auditorium, through the hallways, into the grand entryway, and down the steps to the great doorways to the outside.

"Still pouring," she stated, pale and shaking.

"_Carmelynn!_" Matthew called out, frightened. He looked up at her, ready to cry, and she looked down at him in horror. "Carmelynn... I don't wanna stay here anymore..."

She nodded as if still half in a daze, and hugged him to her. "Neither do I, Matthew, neither do I..."

They stared into the heavy rain that happened upon the afternoon, and wondered what to do next.


	3. Chapter 3

Little Matthew held himself close to his sister, and watched as each moment they were stuck here seemed to drive her more and more insane. It wasn't long before she began to speak to herself in hushed whispers, most of which made no sense to Matthew, as they had no structure, and just seemed to be words strung together in whatever order they came.

"Better out in the cold, than in here!" Carmelynn finally exclaimed in her fear.

"Carmelynn, no!" Matthew begged. He grabbed the sleeve of her day dress and tried to keep her from going out in the rain. As he did so, his little flute slipped out of his vest and fell to the floor. It made a slight clunking "ping" as it hit the floor. In fear that it was broken, Matthew quickly clutched it to his chest, and began to look it over.

Carmelynn stared at her little brother in suprise.

"Matthew, where did you get that?" She inquired of him.

He looked down out of shame. His hobby was revealed, and in a rather guiltful way.

"Did you steal it?" Carmelynn prodded.

"No! I wouldn't steal anything!" Matthew begged her mercy, "I found it here in the Opera house..."

There was silence for a moment, as neither Matthew nor Carmelynn knew how to defend their thoughts, or how to speak them.

"I never took it from the Opera house, Carmelynn, I promise! I... I've been coming here to play on it, but I've never taken it! I promise, Carmelynn, I promise!"

"I believe you, Matthew," Carmelynn comforted after a pause.

They sat once more in silence, but the longer they sat, the more frightened they became at every little noise.

"I will play to help you keep your mind off of the ghost, Carmelynn," he said to his sister, really meaning to mask his own fear of the ghost as well.

He raised the little toy of a flute to his mouth, and began to play.

The poor little boy shook from head to toe as he began his song. He was so afraid of the ghost, and had intended to play to keep it off of his mind; but most of all, he was afraid that by playing, he would _call_ the ghost. He had not heard what his brave sister Carmelynn had heard in the auditorium, but he knew it was the ghost, and he was not at all pleased at what it was doing to her.

His mind was not with his song as he played. Matthew thought only about the strange events, and getting home safely before Carmelynn gets any more frightened, but Carmelynn was listening to his song very intently. She wondered how long he had hidden this talent from everyone, for his playing was not at all similar to that of an amateur. He had practiced, and she could tell.

The improvised song went on for some time in silence. No interruptions, no strange happenings, no ghosts. Matthew began to calm, and stopped worrying about everything that could happen, and became more interested in what he was playing. The tune changed, and grew more passionate, and after a few bars, they heard a hushed voice.

"_Kyrie eleison..._" It sang quietly, and sobbed.

"What was that?" Carmelynn snapped.

Matthew closed his eyes tightly and concentrated on continuing the song, wishing for there to be no ghosts.

The voice continued to sing.

"_Christe eleison..._" as it continued to sob some more.

"Matthew, did you hear it?" Carmelynn asked, eager to know she wasn't going crazy. Matthew nodded as he played.

"It sounds so sad!" Carmelynn sympathized. Matthew nodded, and lowered his flute to his lap.

"But why, Matthew, why is he so sad?"

"I don't know..." Matthew replied, thinking to himself. "Carmelynn, there's something that isn't right."

"What is it, Matthew?"

"Well, before, in the auditorium... The voice you said you heard was a _woman's_ voice, but this one belonged to a _man_..."

Carmelynn blinked at her little brother. "But that would mean..."

"_Two_ ghosts..." Matthew moaned, finishing his sister's sentence. He had been making such a fuss over _one_ ghost, and now there were _two_.

But why hadn't he heard the woman's voice in the auditorium? Both of them heard the man, so why hadn't they both heard the woman? It hadn't been much, but Matthew wanted nothing more than to be rid of voices and ghosts and sudden storms in the afternoon.

Matthew listened to the drops falling on the street outside. Everything was thoroughly drenched, and the rain was finally letting up.

"Carmelynn... Carmelynn!" Matthew had to tug on her sleeve to break her from her thoughts. "Carmelynn, the rain is finally going away!"

"Finally..." She replied, looking back into the vast entryway.

"Carmelynn, let's go home..." Matthew almost had to beg.

"Yes. Yes, let's go home," Carmelynn agreed.

Matthew, the little gentleman that he was brought up to be, removed his coat and handed it to his dear sister to d over herself so as not to become soaked.

Carmelynn, conditioned to take care of Matthew, was about to argue.

"Matthew!--"

"Carmelynn... Take it, I'll be fine," he assured her. And so they left into the falling night. The distant thunder rumbled behind them as the storm continued to wane and pass. The drops of rain pattered on the streets around them and on the roof of the old Opera Populaire; the sound echoing through the cavernous rooms and empty hallways. As the storm died, so did the sound in the old building, and it fell to silence once more.

All had been quiet for a number of years. Matthew and Carmelynn did not return to the old opera house after that day with the unexplainable storm, and they both made a point not to speak of it. They lived this way for many years, trying to forget, but they never could.


	4. Chapter 4

Matthew, still bent on playing his flute, was forced to find somewhere else to practice. Though he wished to still keep his dear hobby a secret from the world, finding another secretive rehearsal room proved to be a very difficult task. He was discovered one day, and had won himself a number of scrpes and bruises in embarassment, but his escape worked just the opposite as what he had planned. The man who discovered him helped him home, and introduced himself to his family (as well as telling them all about Matthew's amazing talent). When all was said and done, Matthew had managed to gain a new mentor.

His name was Messieur Stephen Napier, and he concerned himself with the art (especially that of music) of the day, and was suprised to learn that Matthew had kept his flute a secret for so long. Messieur Napier addressed that issue, and easily established that young Matthew must have had a wonderful ear. He would be pleased to provide Matthew with further tutoring.

Matthew's mother was at first very suprised, but very pleased, nonetheless, that Matthew had found himself such a fine man for a mentor. It was a great ease on his mother's mind to know he was taken care of, for she was beginning to grow old, and could not work as she once could. It was becoming harder for her to provide for his two younger sisters alone, much less Matthew (who was quickly growing into his teen-aged years).

Messieur Napier provided Matthew with a new flute which had better tuning and a steadier tone. Matthew, for musical purposes, was happy to accept the gift, but he never discarded his old flute, despite its apparent age. He was re-taught his scales and arpeggios, and was further conditioned in form and technique. It was hard work at the pace they had set, but Matthew worked as hard as he was pressed, and still manaaged to smile. Soon, he was learning various solos; sonatas, cantabiles, popular tunes, as well as classics of the day. Matthew took them all in stride, and even managed to memorize a few!

When Matthew could afford the time between his studies, he made a point to put his musicianship to good use. The songs he memorized (as well as tunes he was known to improvise) he would play on a street corner, or near the camp of travelling troupes to earn spare change. Most everything he made, he sent back to his family, for everything Matthew needed was provided for him by Messieur Napier.

On the eve of Matthew's seventeenth birthday, he recieved a notification of his sister Carmelynn's birth to a little baby boy, which he was thrilled to learn had been named after him. Matthew shared the news of his nephew's birth with his mentor, and they shared a drink in celebration, and a toast to blessings of fortune and good health. In such good spirits, Matthew eagerly shared stories of his and Carmelynn's escapades to Messieur Napier, including (with only slight hesitation) the tale of the ghosts of the Opera Populaire.

"Ghosts?..." Messieur Napier mused, a bit skeptically.

"The Player Piano, Messieur Napier, and the voice my dear sister heard, and the man who cried in the rain..." Matthew paused to remember how she sympathized with the unfortunate soul who sobbed for forgiveness.

"You should be more careful of what you say, Matthew, someone may think you are mad!"

"They were real, Messieur Napier!" With a grin, and a light laugh, he made an offer to his mentor, "I could introduce you, if you'd like."

"Dear Matthew, consider yourself fortunate that I enjoy ghost stories!" Messieur Napier laughed, as they toasted to happiness.

A few days later, Matthew and his mentor went to visit the abandoned Opera House. It was as dusty and quiet as usual, and it almost made Matthew feel bad that he hadn't visited it in so long.

"Messieur Napier, the Opera Populaire," Matthew introduced.

"Impressive," Messieur Napier mused, "It's a shame it's not used anymore. I wonder why?"

"Of anyone, I'm sure my dear sister Carmelynn would know! She loved this place like no one else could," Matthew laughed. "I have heard some of the stories, personally, in my childhood, but I can't remember them anymore..."

There was a moment of silence before either of them spoke.

"How about a tour, Matthew?"

"Certainly, Messieur!"

Matthew led him around the Opera house, telling him the stories of the ghosts. First, of course, of the voice they heard singing in the entryway, next, of the one on the stage which Matthew had not heard, and finally, of the player piano.

He told the whole story, about when he first found the room, and had found his little flute in it. He told about how he used to practice there every day, and finally, how one day, the piano played along on its own! He paused to stare at the dusty, web-covered piano. The sight of it made Matthew very sad, as if he had neglected an old friend, despite that it had scared him half-to-death as a child. Finally, he related to his mentor how the event involving this lonely piano had led to him being found.

Messieur Napier laughed. "Then, indeed, it was fortunate that you were scared."

Matthew nodded, though he was still enveloped by his thoughts.

"Matthew, do you remember the tune?" Messieur Napier asked, "Perhaps it will play again?"

"Unfortunately, I can't say I do..." Matthew replied, "It was improvised, you see. A childish game..."

Nonetheless, he raised the flute to his mouth, and began to play a few songs, stopping here and there to recognize and piece together a new melody from parts of ones he knew. However, the piano did not play. After about half an hour of this, Matthew lowered his flute, and shook his head.

"I can't seem to remember, Messieur."

"'Tis a shame..." Messieur Napier sighed, "I had hoped to see one of these ghosts you spoke of."

"Perhaps, if we could bring Carmelynn with us sometime?" Matthew thought aloud.

"It's worth a try, my friend," his mentor chimed, and began to laugh again, as they left the room. "Though, while we're here, it might prove entertaining to hold our lessons on the stage, hm?"

"Indeed!" Matthew replied brightly, as he led Messieur Napier to the stage once more.

The two men walked down the isle of the auditorium, every sound magnified tenfold by the great cavernous room. Matthew once again observed the bright colors about the room, now dampened by the thick layers of dust. He remembered when his sister used to bring him here, and they would play simple childish games on the stage; pretending they were performers or adoring fans.

"My dear Carmelynn used to dance on this stage..." Matthew told his mentor, smiling at the old days of his youth.

"It looks as if it hasn't seen the limelight in ages..." Messieur Napier observed as he took a seat in the audience.

"Go on, Matthew. To the stage with you!" He laughed whole-heartedly. Matthew did what he was told.

"Now, this should be a new experience for you... If you would start with a simple scale. B-flat Concert, if you would..."

The simplest scale. Every day, the repetition. '_Always good for the ears,_' was Messieur Napier's justification. Matthew did not complain, however, but simply played it, but just as he had begun to play, he suddenly stopped. The resonance of such a place was indeed new to him, and he felt such a jump in his soul when he could hear the echo of his flute off of the arched ceiling and terraced walls. He was filled with a whole new love and respect for this house which drove such a fear into him as a child.

Messieur Napier laughed deeply at his student's reaction. "Go on, go on, take it all in."

Indeed he did; he breathed deep, and played the scale, closing his eyes to listen for the center of the sound, and to hear how it reacted to the vastness of the auditorium.

"Amazing..." was all he could say, when he was finished.

"Now, for a little fun... Young Matthew, if you would play your favorite Aria for me?"

"Surely!"


End file.

Phantom of the Opera, Supernatural