My Maestro - A Phantom Of The Opera Fanfiction | UNDER RECONSTRUCTION! |

Part 3

Erik

Voices could be heard all over the Opera House, both voices who were singing and speaking. Although, the singing didn't please me at all. It wasn't singing, it was SCREAMING! Horrible, horrible screaming! Like crows! I sighed irritated, put my pen down, and pushed away my notes. My inspiration had gone away.

"It's the Talents, Monsieur.." a voice behind me said.

I turned around, and saw my faithful helper, Clarissa, a faithfull young woman, who had sworn to keep my secret, after she found her way down to my lair. She had begged me not to kill her, saying she would do anything. So, I spared her life, and she now helps me. My little servant.

Her hands were joined in front of her, her back streight and her nose slightly raised in the air.

"Talents? What Talents?" I grunted frustrated. How dared she interrupting me in my work? Though, I couldn't work in this noise.

"Young ladys and men. It's the new managers' idea. To open the Opera Populair-"

"ENOUGH!" I slammed both of my hands at the table. Clarissa stopped talking.

"Another pair of new managers?" I didn't look at her.

"Yes.. You scared the last ones away, remember?"

I sighed. That was right. Through out the years, many had tried to take over my Opera House, but without luck. It was mine, and everything in it was mine too. Including my dear Christine.

Oh Christine..

"But you could just.. Do the job yourself, Monsieur.." Clarissa said, very carefully. I sighed.

"This Opera House needs far more than only one hand. Where would I get workers? Artists? No. I'd rather just.. Stay here.."

"But Monsieur,"

"Clarissa, please. Leave me, I have work to do," I grabbed my pen once again and started to write.

Julie

Jackie and I entered the Opera Populaire, with our instruments and bags. This would be our home the next few years.

The Old Opera House had gotten new managers over the summer, and had decided to give us young talents a chance, to experience what it would feel like, to be real artists. They opened up the entire Opera Populaire, renovating the old rooms, making them livable for us. We would then be staying here for 2 years, if not more.

People were already practicing. We were told to each prepare a piece of music, we would perform for everybody else, including the teachers. Myself, I had been practicing night and day since I got in. As a treat for both me and the others, I had chosen to play Bach.

Jackie and I sat next to each other in the grand theater, enjoying all the others pieces and performances. What we noticed what, that there was not only classical artists, no we had almost everything! A few showed up, playing a hardcore guitar solo, and I must say. They were talented all of them. Others sang wonderfully! Both classical, opera and rhythmical singing as well. I enjoyed every bit of it, and soon it was my turn.

I went on stage with my cello, and sat down in the chair, that was given for me. I got ready and smiled for the teachers.

"Hello Miss," one said, and smiled back at me. "What would you like to play for us?"

"I would like to play Bach's 2nd suite in D minor, both the Courante and the Sarabande," I said. She nodded, showing her my respect of choice.
If you really want to shine as a cellist, you would choose the 1st suite. Everybody knew that. But me; oh no. My favorite was the 2nd. So, therefore, that was the one I was playing.

I placed my bow in the strings, and got my hand ready. I then sighed, closed my eyes, and started to play.

Erik

As I heard a different kind of music from the theater, I stopped. All the others hand been noise to my ears. But this; this was music.

I stopped writing and got up. I then listened.

Bach.

I began to follow the tones floating from above, making my way up from my lair.

The Sarabande.

The further I got up, the music became more and more clear. I entered my box, number 5, and stood behind the curtain. Here I could hear every note, every sound. And what a wonderful sound it was. Whoever was playing, the person was talented.

I had to know.

I slowly removed the curtain, and peeked out. There was a lot of young people sitting in the theater. None of them seemed interested in the wonderful music, that was being played. Fools.
I then turned to the stage.
I young girl was playing. Her blonde hair was gathered up on top of her head, while pieces had fallen down onto her face. Her face; it looked familiar. Her eyes were closed, and eyebrows furred together in concentration. She then took a deep breath, as she played the last note and opened her eyes; oh her eyes.

Christine.