Mirrors

A/N: AHHH GUYS THIS IS IT OH MY GOD I'M GOING TO LEAVE THE BIG SPEECH FOR THE END SO YOU GUYS CAN GET RIGHT TO READING. THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH I LOVE YOU GUYS3

ALSO FYI THERE IS A RANDOM LINE BREAK IN THE MIDDLE OF THE STORY FOR NO REASON AND I CAN'T GET RID OF IT I TRIED EVERYTHING SO PLEASE JUST IGNORE IT!

THANK YOU GUYS I'LL SEE YOU IN THE LAST EVER AUTHORS NOTE FOR THIS STORY (SOBS)

Weeks had passed. The reconstruction of the opera house was to begin soon.

There had been policemen and firemen that had spent two full days searching the opera house for any remains, but they found none. They told us that if there had been anyone there, they were burnt to ash.

My visits to the opera house became less frequent as the remaining few maids continued to discourage me from going.

I never told them about my association with the opera ghost, but they didn't need to know that to know that what I was doing was not healthy.

I finally got in contact with my family. They took about a week to reply to my letter, and they said I could come at any time. I told them that I would come soon, but I didn't tell them it was because I was waiting for them to start construction.

I stood in front of the haunting and massive opera house. The once white marble was now tinted black. I took a deep breath and made a decision.

Carefully, I walked up the stone steps that lead to the grand doors that stood weakly with planks of wood nailed to them, warning trespassers to keep out.

I doubted that there would be anyone in there at the time. There were no carriages, no horses, and no people.

I stepped into the building and, immediately, I held my breath.

What was once a shining gold or a pearly white was now a charcoal black. It looked as if it had snowed within the building, as the tops of the statues were dusted with white ash.

I walked further into the opera house and came to the main staircase, now shaded with grey instead of gold and white.

I was in awe of the strange beauty of the opera house after its death, but at the same time I was left with a strange sort of sadness. Everything that I had ever known was gone. Marie was gone, Erik was gone, and now the opera house was gone.

I scolded myself for my thoughts. Yes, Marie was gone, but Erik could still be out in Paris somewhere, and the opera house was being restored. The thought provided minimal comfort.

I meandered through the ruins, letting my mind take me back in time to when the halls shined in the candlelight, and the singers harmonized with each other in different rooms.

I eventually came across the all too familiar ballroom that I used to clean. I let out a small chuckle, imagining having to clean the room now. It would take ages for me to scrub the charcoal from the walls, and to sweep the ash from the floor. The heavy curtains that used to rest on the tall windows had fallen into a pile of ash, causing the grey light of the day to seep through the massive windows.

I began to hum. Not just any tune though. It was the first song I had heard Erik sing. The music of the night.

I stopped for a moment and listened. I could have sworn I had heard a piano echoing my tune, as if I was making my debut in an opera, and the orchestra was becoming my background music.

I chuckled as I continued to hum what little of the tune that I knew as I walked out of the room and down a familiar hallway to a familiar room.

The humming turned into random quiet vocalizations that echoed off the walls and domed ceilings as I attempted to match the original notes of the song. I knew I wasn't a good singer, but it did not matter at that point.