The Untold Story of the Phantom of the Opera

Prima Donna

I shook my head, sat down while wrinkled as a not understood. “Monsieur’s, I don’t think this is the most perfectly timed moment, and I need some air.”

“It’s not possible mademoiselle Daaé. The press has surrounded the entire Opera, if you need to get out, might climb out the window and jump to the neighbour rooftop.” As for crazy ideas, I’d never heard anything quite like Monsieur Firmin’s. “Christine, try to understand as new managers we need to understand what’s happening here in the Opera. Last night you disappeared and returned this morning, I’m correct?” Somehow I had thought of the idea of lying, but as everybody in the Opera new I’d gone for a time of hours it wasn’t a good idea. So, I nodded. “Was it the Phantom whom kidnapped you?”

“He did no such thing Monsieur.” Both managers looked at each other. “The Phantom of this Opera is a violent man. A man with no face, I believe you have heard the legend? Oh. Well, they say his skin is as yellow parchment which doesn’t cover a nose; instead he has a black hole in his face and with him he always carries he’s magical lasso. You must prudent and watch your tongue. If the Phantom hear talk about him and he doesn’t like it you must keep your hands at the level of your eyes. Silence is wise Monsieur.”  The managers looked at me with fear in their grey eyes. “No, he didn’t kidnap me. I followed the Angel of Music’s voice – you see I had to meet him. After three months of tutoring my voice, I had to see the face of the man who’s inspired my voice to make these miracles.” I said that and made them swallow it.

“Christine,” this time it was André who spoke, “could you please tell me, why the Phantom writes to us and commands –“ he found an envelope from his pocket, ”—us to make a new production of Il Muto, with you as the prima donna?”

“I’m very flattered, but I don’t know, maybe he liked my voice – from his seat in box 5?” the two managers looked at each other and again at me. The murmured something I didn’t hear. “Monsieur’s if you please would let me go; I need to get out to get some air – which isn’t from this dormitory. Monsieur!” they looked up, looked confused and terrified. “What is it?”

“You said from box 5? No one sat in that box, except the Vicomte de Chagny.”

Raoul was in that box? Then what about him?

“Christine, are you telling us that the Phantom of the Opera is Vicomte de Chagny?” André asked.

“No!” I nearly shouted. “Raoul is an old friend of mine, we grew up together, and later that evening he came into my dressing room and we talked and then he went off to get a cabbie.”

“He entered your dressing room and after a while he left? And you’re completely certain he isn’t the Phantom?”

“YES! I know the man, as I said we grew up together, but he is not the Phantom of the Opera, and certainly not the Angel of Music.”

The two managers thought it through a couple of times, and then realized it wouldn’t matter asking me, because I couldn’t tattle about him. Which made me think of, what was his name?

“Christine, where did you disappear to?” André asked. I might just tell.

“He took me to his home. But I don’t know where that is, I’m sorry Monsieur, but I can’t help you anymore.”

“Christine?! CHRISTINE, ARE YOU UP THERE? I’m coming up!” the two managers and I jumped from our seats when we heard Raoul’s voice trampling and screaming on the stairs. “Move aside! Christine?! Oh thank God you’re alive!” I looked at Raoul with very big eyes, of course I’m alright. Why does everyone even care so much about I was with him for a couple of hours?!