Stories of the Night (Phantom of the Opera)

Chapter 1: The Silent Girl

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Phantom of the Opera or any of these songs. I only own Kane and a few other side characters. The rest are not mine. Please enjoy this work of fan fiction.

"She never talks to anyone."

"Some say her father tore out her vocal cords and that's why she can't talk."

"I heard that she knew the Phantom and she spies for him."

My heart lurches at this, these stupid girls love to spread rumors don't they. I shake my head continuing stretch out. I don't talk to people because I don't like to.

I prefer to write and those writings are only for my friend. He says that I create to most beautiful stories and that they give him wonderful inspiration for his Operas.

I came to the Opera house not long after it was rebuilt to get away from my family. They didn't like me all that much, forced me to socialize with people of a higher class so that I could marry well. And then there was my father, but I would rather not think about him.

Soon I was dancing. I love to tell stories, weather it be through my body or on paper.

After rehearsal was over I head back to my dorm, just wanting to get away from all the gossiping girls.

I sit down on my bed and pull out my journal from underneath the bed, flipping through to see what my friend thought about my last story.

To my dearest Kane,

Your last story was absolutely wonderful. Your writing has become almost equal to my own.

Your rehearsal today was also beautiful, I do hope that those pesky ballet rats do not bug you to much. I hope to see another story tonight.

Your Dearest Friend,

Erik.

All I know about him is that his name is Erik and he worked here at the Opera house before it had burned and works here now. I'm to shy to ask around to see who he is though.

I pick up my quill and gently dip it into my small bottle of ink. He leaves me ink so that I may write for him and never run out.

I begin to work on my next story, a story about a beautiful girl who was caught in the midst of a terrible war and wanted nothing more than to escape. She met a man who took her in and let her travel with him. She learned many things on their journeys and they soon fell in love.

I find that those are the stories he likes the best, stories about love and happy endings. I write a note to him at the end.

To my dearest Erik,

Thank you very much for the praise of my last story and my performance today.

The other girls do not bother me much, though they do enjoy taunting me about how little I talk. I find their taunting amusing at times, oh the stories they will come up with about me just to get a good laugh from the others.

I hope that you enjoyed my story from today as much as yesterdays. I look forward to your appearance later tonight.

Yours truly,

Kane.

I mark the page in the journal for him and softly close it. I blow out my candle and lay down on my cot. I fall asleep but soon the nightmares come.

I can hear my own screams in my sleep as my father tightens the noose around my neck. I grab and claw trying to get a deep breath but nothing seems to avail.

Suddenly I feel a cool, leather covered hand press against my warm cheek. A soft voice sings,

"Night time sharpens, heightens each sensation

Darkness stirs and wakes imagination

Silently the senses abandon their defenses

Slowly, gently, night unfurls it's splendor

Grasp it, sense it, tremulous and tender

Turn your face away from the garish light of day

Turn your face away from the cold, unfeeling light

And listen to the music of the night."

My eyes open to find the room dark as always and I reach up and take the hand, grasping it in my own as I sniffle, tears still running down my cheeks.

"Come here, my dearest." He whispers as he sits down on my bed next to me, bringing me into his arms. He begins to sing again,

"Floating, falling, sweet intoxication

Touch me, trust me, savor each sensation

Let the dream begin, let your darker side give in

To the harmony which dream alone can write

The power of the music of the night."

I bury my face into his chest as he finishes. "My dearest Erik," I whisper, "Why do you only come at night?"

He gently strokes my hair, "You would fear me in the light of day, even the stories would strike fear into your pure heart."

"You know that stories do not fear me. Was it something that happened in your past?" I ask as I wrap my arms in a hug around his muscular frame.

"It was. I will tell you one day, my dear. I only hope that you will see me the same way." He promises.

"I do not care for what you look like or your past deeds. You are the man you are today." I let go of the hug.

"You must promise me that." He instructs as he brushes a hand against my cheek once more.

"I promise." I whisper honestly to him.

"Thank you my dear." His warm lips press a kiss to my forehead. "I may tell you tomorrow, but I must bid you goodbye until then. Goodnight."

I feel his warmth leave me and I fall asleep again before he has even left the room.