¤ The Phantom Of The Opera Imagines ¤

Trance

I awoke abruptly, shooting up in bed, confused and dazed. Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I glanced around my room.
Being roused from bed was rare for me, my friends at the Opéra populaire said that I could sleep through a war... (which, sadly, was only a slight exaggeration.) But why tonight? Why tonight of all nights would I awaken from sleep...
And then I heard it, a voix, a voice. Floating up through my floorboards and into my ears, sweet and melodic, haunting words that seemed to fall one after the other, dancing in the air.
A part of my mind told me to stay in my room, to snuggle up in my sheets and sleep until dawn, but the other wanted more.
More, more la musique, more music.
I stumbled out of bed after almost tripping on the sheets, my night dress flowing behind me as I quietly stepped out into the hallway of the sleeping Opera House. The voice had me in a trance, I wanted that voice. So I followed its haunting trail.
It led me through dark hallways and past stained glass windows, the light casting a ghastly glow on my porcelain skin as I wandered the halls that night.
I felt like a ghost, a spirit wandering aimlessly towards nothing. Though, I was wandering towards something. Soon I was wading through water, and the voice seemed to reach across the water and pull me, piece by piece, towards my destination. And as the song got louder, I felt lighter. The song was mournful, though I took great joy in hearing it. It gave me hope.
No one would listen
No one but her
Heard as the outcast hears
Shamed into solitude
Shunned by the multitude
I learned to listen
In the dark, heart heard music
I longed to teach the world
Rise up and reach the world
No one woul-

"I shall listen, fantôme. " I said from my place behind him, resting my hand on his shoulder.