Limelight

Chapter Sixteen: The Cellars

Chapter Sixteen: The Cellars

November 4th, 1910, 5:30pm.

It was two days since I saw the Persian, two days since I saw the Opera Ghost, and two days since I saw the Vicomte. I mostly spent my time wandering around the upper floors of the Opera Populaire; above ground, the Opera House had a total of twelve floors, making it seventeen floors in total. I would often sit upon the highest catwalk and look out of the great skylights which overlooked the bustling city of Paris. But, this evening, the Persian's words reverberated in my head 'do not go to the cellars alone...there are terrible things down there...' what terrible things is he speaking of? What monster could be lurking beneath an Opera House?

These thoughts sparked my curiosity, all day the thought of the cellars plagued my mind; but, there also was the memory of the flaming head. So, that evening I let my more adventurous and curious side take over and I wandered over to the first set of stairs that led downwards; to cellar number one. With a lantern in hand and my other hand running over the stone wall I began the trek towards the mystery of what lurks below the Opera House; the first cellar was used for storage of scenes from different opera's and props, so it wasn't that frightening. It wasn't frightening, until I reached the Jacob's ladder and the unused scene from Faust where Josh was found hanging from his neck; chills went up my spine as I stared at a blood pool that stained the hardwood floor where Josh must have landed. I sighed and continued towards the stairs that led to terrible, cellar number two.

Cellar number two was less welcoming than the former; the air became a bit heavier and the lights were dimmer. Now I saw old posters from past opera's, one of them was for Don Giovanni; but there was something odd about it. The word 'Giovanni' was painted over in red paint, and the word 'Juan' and 'Triumphant' replaced it; my brows furrowed 'I've never heard of anything called Don Juan Triumphant'  thought I. I pulled the old poster free of the wall, rolled it up, and placed it inside my purple cloak; that day I wore a perfect white dress (not the best to go gallivanting into a cellar in) along with the cloak, my hair lay on my bosom. I dimmed my lantern and cautiously walked to the stairs, not wanting another encounter with the flaming head; slowly, silently down to the third cellar I went.

Into the third cellar people rarely came; but they came all the same. I shielded my lantern's light as people called 'door shutters' walked past me (I was hiding behind a prop tombstone); 'door shutters' as people call them are just old men (or women...mostly men) who walk about the Opera House shutting doors, for, drafts are a large problem. As soon as they passed me, I went back to my course, as I walked, alone, down a hallway I heard a sound equivalent to Christy scratching her long, manicured nails on a black board! I hid, dropped the lantern, and covered my ears; hoping to save them from the horrid screeching! In this moment, the end of the hallway lit and I glanced up to see a head...at a man's height, but no body; and the head was flaming!

My breath was caught in my throat as the flaming head came closer to where I was sitting; I knew the head saw me...but what would it do? The screeching became louder and louder as the head approached me, I then started to feel little nicks and bumps from what seemed like teeth; now the flaming head was only a few feet from me...and it spoke. "Do not follow me! I am the Rat Catcher...do not follow me!" He yelled, my mouth gaped as I watched him walk down the darkened hallway and disappear around a corner.

I slowly stood a few moments after the Rat Catcher disappeared and shook off the 'icky' feeling I gained only moments before. I began walking again, but this time I did not pay much attention to where I was walking; in that moment my left foot did not feel ground and I panicked, I fell forwards with a cry and landed on the stairs, on my side. I stood and slowly rubbed my side whispering words of pain as I did so; then I looked down the stairs and I could not see a thing. All I saw was blackness, dark, heavy, blackness; a weak, scrawny, little girl such as I does not belong in such a place filled with fear and uncertainty. But, again, my curiosity prevailed and involuntarily, my legs began to walk down the stone stairs; taking the rest of me with them.

In this moment I heard quick footfall from behind me, I turned and someone placed their hand over my mouth, yanking me back up the stairs as they did so; I quickly lifted the lantern to find that it was the Persian who stopped me! "I told you never to go down alone! There are things down there which are greater than you or I and that are not to be meddled with, unless, they meddle with you! Come, let us return to the surface, it is much safer there" Said the Persian dragging me behind him, I sighed and yanked my arm away from him; he quickly turned and I shook my head.

"Unless you tell me what is down there I am going to see for myself" Said I stubbornly, the Persian sighed and rubbed his face in agitation. "Besides, how did you know I was down here?"

"He told me, Elizabeth, the Trap Door Lover told me; he told me to stop you. That is what I intend to do" The Persian said, gently grasping my hand and pulling me back towards the stairs to the second cellar; again, I freed my arm.

"Lately, I've been thinking" Said I, quickly "Do you know the Opera Ghost?" I asked, the Persian nodded; I smiled. "Are he and the Trap Door Lover friends?" Asked I, holding the lantern by my side; the Persian chuckled.

"You are a very intelligent girl, but no, they are not; for, they are...well... Un dans le meme" (English Translation: One in the same) The Persian gave a small smile as I stood, gobsmacked, before him; I became excited for some reason and out of my cloak I tore the poster of 'Don Juan Triumphant'.

  "Do you know what this is? Is it connected to him?" Asked I, quickly; the Persian smiled and nodded.

"This is his life-long work...it is still not finished" Said the Persian "Come now, let us return to the surface" Said he, as I returned the poster into my cloak; but I stood, motionless, the Persian smiled and chuckled. But before the Persian could speak a 'door shutter' jumped out of nowhere and yelled at us; I gasped and dropped the lantern, immersing us in total darkness. I stumbled backwards and found myself hopelessly falling...down...down until my head and body met the hard, stone staircase.  My head smacked against the staircase as my body was thrown against it, I then bumped and rolled down the stairs with my arms outstretched; groping for anything to stop me. This I did in vain, I bumped and rolled and banged against the staircase until I fell upon the hard, stone floor of the fourth cellar.

I whimpered and groaned in pain as I lay on my stomach, my head swam and my body felt heavy; my face burned of hotness. My hand reached behind my head and softly touched it, feeling something wet I pulled my hand back to my face where I saw nothing! The darkness of the fourth cellar was so dark that I couldn't see my hand that was only inches in front of my nose! My fingers touched my palm and some of the wetness came off of my hand and touched the stone floor; I sighed and with a groan I pushed myself up, onto all fours. Dizziness overcame me which forced me to stay in that position for a while; after my dizziness left I outstretched my right hand, rising it to the level of my eyes.

I crawled upon the floor like this for a while, until I felt a cold, stone wall which I followed until it started to plunge downwards; 'this must be the stairs to the fifth cellar!' I thought. So, sitting on my backside, and putting my legs before me and with my arms at my sides; I lifted myself down to each step I did this for the first step...the second step...the third step...all the way until I hit the last step and my feet touched sand. I now noticed that I was not consumed by darkness any longer, candles were all around, illuminating the fifth cellar; I looked up to find a narrow boat which the Persian called a gondola bobbing about on the darkened lake. I sighed in relief, I made it, I made it to the Opera Ghost's home!

I then turned my attention back to my now-throbbing head; I lifted up my right hand and glanced at the palm, which was covered in dried blood. I looked down at my once white dress, now it was soiled in grime and dirt (along with a lot of blood), oh, what I monster I probably looked like! I sighed and stumbled to my feet, staggering and falling over several times before reaching the gondola; I slowly sat down inside the small boat and gripped the paddle, gently pushing the gondola across the water. Around one-third of the way across I heard mournful music that resonated from a piano...the music turned angry and I heard a man's yell "Damned piano!" I heard, and then I heard a sound equivalent to someone running their fingers over all of the keys of a piano; the voice was of the Opera Ghost.

I then heard a long and frustrated sigh...and then saddened music came from the same piano; now I paddled ever quieter, until the piano music stopped and a wonderful voice filled the air around me...