Wishing That You Would Be Here

Chapter 12- The Opera House

*Erik*

As I crept down the damp and abandoned halls of the catacombs, I was thinking about what I should do down here. The first thing I should do is find some sort of a shelter. Luckily, with the help of the fairly loudmouthed lady, Madame Giry, I knew what was surrounding me. I remembered the cave with a lake that she was talking about. I only knew it was at the very bottom of the catacombs and that I had quite the way to go there.

Luckily, it wasn't that far and I arrived at the lake with a small wooden boat tied to a pole on it's bank. I got into the boat and paddled to the far end of the lake looking on the walls covered with big fabric curtains. A the other end I found a small cove with a few big objects with covers on them only a few steps from the water. I left the boat on the shore of the lake. Under the covers were a few pieces of furniture, such as a sofa and a small table with a chair. Underneath the biggest cover was a beautiful organ which was still, to my surprise, working. I softly touched the ivory keys, filling the cove with a beautiful melody.

I then found the storage room on the highest floor of the catacombs. Not only was food kept in there, but near it, I found a storage of the various props and costumes that weren't used at the moment. It took me a few hours to get all I wanted from the storage to my cove, but it was worth it.

After my exhausting trip up and down the catacombs I lied down exhausted and took a bite from an apple that I smuggled into my pocket a few hours ago. It was a bit beaten-up, as I was constantly falling onto my butt while moving the heavy furniture down the damp and slippery cellars.

I was now lying down on a comfortable sofa with numerous pillows and the empty cave was now filled with persian rugs, drapes covering the somewhat greenish stone bricks, golden candle holders with candle wax already dripping down them and numerous instruments like a black piano, a violin that I put onto a small table made out of cherry wood and a mandoline that I leaned against one of the candle holders. It looked like a real home for me.

I felt happy in this little tavern by the lake, alone, being able to do what I would want to do. I enjoyed my new home, but there was an another world above me and it was waiting for me to explore it. Before I entered the above world of the Opera Populaire, I went to the storage room once more, to find something for me to wear, because I didn't want to run around the majestic Opera house in those dirty rags from the gypsy camp. I knew no one would see me, but I would feel bad about myself. I found a convenient shirt and trousers which suprisingely fit my tall and skelatal figure. I found a pair of shoes and a black hooded cloak to hide my deformity from the outside world.

As I stepped out of the dark catacombs, I heard music. It was like nothing I have ever heard. I walked in the shadows of the opera and got to a place above the stage from where I could watch every move of the ballet dancers, the actors and even some of the people in the orchestra pit. I watched the rehersals and this awfully out of tune woman, who all the people addressed as the prima donna. I raised, pondering the reason why  whoever was in charge of this opera to make this screeching Italian woman the star of the show. I decided to ignore her screeches for a while and focused my mind on the ballet girls.

The most talkative lady in the world, the lady that saved me about a day or two ago, Madame Giry was telling something to the ballet girls and they really were not listening to her. "Meg, show how you would do that move!" She instructed a tiny girl about the age of seventeen.

The girl had straight blonde hair, green eyes and was a bit chubby for a ballet dancer. Of course she wasn't listening and did something wrong in the dance move.

"Meg Giry, even if you're my daughter, it doesn't excuse you to not listen to what you have to do. Listen better next time."

The ashamed daughter sat back down onto the ground and sighed. "So, who else would show me what we just talked about? What if you would show it, Christine."

A slightly taller girl than Meg stepped to Madame Giry. She had brown hair that went down her shoulders in bouncy curls and her chocolate eyes were looking at the ballet instructor with both respect and slight fear. I knew those big brown expressive eyes.

The girl which was now beautifully dancing on the stage below me was my beloved Christine, which I thought had vanished forever. A slight tear of joy dripped down my deformed cheek. She was back. I once again had a reason to live. Altough she didn't know of me yet, but soon she would.