The Man Clad in Black (Phantom of the Opera)

A Stormy Night in Paris - Chapter 1

Thick storm clouds rolled over the Parisian sky. A brief flicker of lighting erupted into the clouds, and the explosion was followed by a low groan of thunder. That rumbling sound made you sigh.

On only your first evening in France, you were going to be stuck inside of the Opera Populaire for the night.

You were sitting at the top steps right outside of the entrance. While the rain patted against the stone roads so close to the Opera Populaire, it only left you pondering what you would be able to do in your free time. After all, it wasn't like you would be left without anything - this was an opera house.

A sudden gust of wind blew a sheet of rain your way and pulled you from out of your thought. You flinched and got to your feet, and you quickly took a look around to see if anyone had spotted you.

You caught the sight of a young girl and (who seemed to be) her mother. They shared the same golden hair and periwinkle eyes. The little girl's jaw hung agape while the end of a lollipop hung out, and the mother was clearly unamused. It seemed like a late-night trip to the candy store had brought them to a crazy woman.

As a way to try and salvage what little respect they might have had left for you, you sent the both of them a self-conscious smile and wave, although the woman was quick to turn her daughter around and briskly walk the other way.

So much for that plan.

Hiking up your skirts, you turned around to walk inside— though, after taking less than half a step forward, you found yourself stumbling and tripping over a tiny little section of your petticoat, and you were quick to fail at regaining your balance before tumbling down the entire staircase. While the fall wasn't fatal... it still hurt horribly. It was enough to get you to let out a string of curses as you fell.

You couldn't have have reached the bottom any sooner— since... when you had, you were scratched up, bruised, and sitting there with only one shoe. The other had flung into the street. Though a blur of raindrops, you watched as it floated away in the Parisian street, which had been flooded to the point of a river running through the cobblestone.

Just a few seconds out, and you were soaked to the skin. Your dress weighed twice as much as you did. While you could have run through the street like a lunatic, hopping to catch up to your shoe, you would rather not do that— and instead, perhaps, just go inside, blink the rainwater from your eyes, and get changed out of those forsaken clothes...

And either way, you were going to hate this.

°°°

It didn't matter if you were sopping wet and hopping around with only one shoe— it didn't seem like anyone was around anyway.

It was late. Many of the shops lining the streets had closed, and those that remained open lit the streets with a hazy, orange glow. The few shops that were still open flickered with the lingering candlelight. The only reason you had come in the first place was to visit your father. Due to the fact that he was a part-time janitor with a pay that could barely buy himself dinner, you knew that he would probably ask you to stay and help— and you were more than willing to.

Why were you in there, anyway? Your father didn't live inside of the opera house. In fact, while he wasn't working on cleaning up after the actors and audience, he practically lived in the bar. Not that he was a drunk or an alcoholic— he was sixteen years sober, actually— but when he wasn't tidying up the opera house, he was tending the bar nearby.

It wasn't like you would be able to find him in here. After all. The only reason the doors were still open was because there was because he had gone home early, and the managers had forgotten to lock up behind themselves (thank goodness).