Erik, The Phantom Of The Opera

Chapter 1: The Beginning

>>>>>>Picture Erik

Sometimes I'm not sure if I’m actually alive or if I'm living a dream. Life under the Opera house is not all grand; it's dark, damp and lonely. I do have a friend, but I still feel deep inside there is something missing.

I was abandoned at age six, by my parents who realized my hideous markings wouldn't disappear. As all parents they thought it would go away with time. Time is never in my fortune. I can't blame my parents for dropping me. If I could I would sell my hideous face and buy a new one. Ha! That's a laugh. My best option is to conceal my face with my mask and the shadows.

Hideous enough, a group of Circus Gypsies took me in. They used me, calling me 'The Devil's Child'. People from all over came to look at me. I hated it. Oh God, forgive me! Oh how I hated them all. Laughing at me, smirking at me as if I was a cowering dog knowing its life was over by the much larger, dog.

I try my hardest to forget the past, but it's hard when you're reminded every day just by looking at yourself in the mirror. I wish I could live a normal life. Go for walks in parks? I think that is what their called. I heard they're filled with thin soft blades growing from the ground. Grass? I'm pretty sure that is what Daroga calls it.

Pouring a glass of wine for myself from the wine bar. I glance over my shoulder to see my dearest friend Daroga reading the paper.

"You're awfully quiet this morning Erik. Is something troubling you?"

"Of course not. I was only thinking." I know Daroga means only kindness to me, but sometimes I want to just punch him.

Daroga was the chief of police in Persia before he came to France. The day I met Daroga I was with the Gypsies, we had a show a little ways before central Paris. It was our normal act, sing some tunes, put on a show of our hideousness. Ashamed, I would wear the mask when alone. I would try to go to the show with something covering my face, but someone mostly who was Arka, the ring leader would take it away.

"They wouldn't be getting their money's worth, if you hide it. Devil Child." He would murmurer, walking away.

I'm not sure which day or year, but the season was nice. From what I heard from the others and the gentle breeze on my hand through the barred windows. I was about Twelve, counting from the cold season to the next cold season. That evening show, I noticed a peculiar man who had his eyes sharp on every movement and your face if you looked at him.

That night I was going to do my ventriloquism act. It is anyway better than standing there motionless, just letting them stare.

"Your on!" Bub shouted shoving me passed the curtains into the ring. Chains separated me from the crowd sitting on the steps. With my puppet in hand, in which I made myself. I reached the center sitting in the chair. I could hear faint whispers from the crowd. Covering my face with my hand while the other to the mouth of the puppet.

"What is this?" A woman who wore a clean dark purple dress spoke.

I began to feel my body tremble and the words I had practiced were gone, lost to the oblivion. What's wrong with me? Why won't my words speak?

"I paid for a show! I demand a show!" A man shouted. Others soon joined in with agreement. As he got louder, so did others. My ears began to hurt. I felt the urge to cover my ears. Dropping the puppet and my hand from my face I covered my ears; lowering my head.

"I'm so sorry folks. Up next we will have lady Cherie who is bound to make your heart skip a beat." Arka spoke as if it was a everyday thing. He lifted me from the chair putting me over his shoulder. I didn't dare fight him. He surely would beat me now.

"What on Earth was that out there?! You didn't even let them see your face."

"I'm sorry sir, I wanted to try a new act, but- the words- just didn't want to come out." I stuttered, getting ready for the blow.

"A new act! God! Child!"

"I'm sorry. Really. Truly."

Akra began to walk around the room. He was a skinny man, but strong. His voice like the sound of a storm with light.

"Devil child, god. God must truly hate you." he whispered under his breath.

"Sir?!" Slowly lifting my head I see the voice came from the fortune teller; who behind her was the strange man.

"Yes?"

"This gentleman would like to speak to you."

"Who is he? I don't just talk to anyone who asks for me." Arka, smoothed his shirt. Even though it would do no good.

"I am a man who wants to talk business. A proposition. For one of your employees."

"Oh! Sir, we must speak in my office!" Arka's voice was filled with thrill. I swear his voice went an octave higher. He waved his hand motioning the man to follow him in the way to the office.

At least for right now I was saved.

"Get back to your cell child." The fortune teller snapped. Making me do so.

About twenty minutes later Arka came up to my cell, as we all called it.

"Today is your lucky day boy!" Boy? Did he just call me boy?

"Your leaving."

"Leaving? Did I do something wrong?"

"No, of course not!" Arka, was acting weird. Happy, I guess. He was smiling.

Leaving my cell, Arka by my side. We walked toward the main entrance. In view was the man.

"Boy, this is Gerhard. He will be taking care of you now." What? Remembering my face, I quickly put my hand on my face.

The man, Gerhard, bent down to me. "Hello. You are fine, you are not in trouble."

Gerhard and I got into a carriage. Facing, face to face.

"Here take this." In Gerhard's hand was a mask. I grabbed it gently applying it to my face.

"There. Is that better?" I turn toward the window, seeing my reflection. It was covered, gone from my eyes.

"Yes thank you sir."

"Don't call me sir. Please call me Daroga."

Daroga later told me Gerhard was just a fake name so if Arka wanted to ever find me again he couldn't. Daroga is the manager of the Paris Opera. He told me, he was just starting that year. We live under the Opera.It’s cozy. No one knows were here. Daroga has to get up early though to walk through the main entrance so others wouldn't start to think of the actuality. Daroga raised me as his own.He said he took me, seeing a boy in pain and seeing art. I do believe in that now with his guidance. I can sing correctly, play multiple instruments, I know how to protect myself and I know the mysterious secrets of the trap doors and passageways of the Opera.

UPDATED: November 13, 2016