A New Opera Ghost

Chapter 1

Everyone had been expecting it. La Carlotta was a demanding little thing, and when she stormed out in tears, everyone knew that her decision was final. Even if it wasn't, it was a good riddance. She cost the Opera Populaire millions of dollars with all of her ludicrous demands, she spread rumors about the other performers in the company, and she treated the composers and set workers like garbage. She deserved to go, but no one had the heart to fire her due to her blessed singing voice. However, now that she had quit, the manager could finally hire a new, beneficial singer for the opera.

The manager paced the stage back and forth in a nervous tizzy, making it quite difficult for the dancers to rehearse the ballad of Samson and Delilah. The composer, who had been impatiently watching the manager's erratic behavior, lowered his baton in defeat and sighed. "Dancers, musicians, take five." The dancers heeded his words and scattered in different directions to travel backstage, the musicians slowly lowering their instruments to chat amongst each other. The composer walked over to the stressed manager, one eyebrow raised in concern. "Is everything alright, Monsieur Durand?" Durand turned to face the composer and sighed. "Oh, Monsieur Laurent, I have such news to tell. I'm just not quite sure how to tell my son."

The composer looked at him sympathetically. "Why don't you tell me this momentous news so that we may figure out a way to tell dear old Chrisotpher." Durand sighed, a bit embarrassed by the roleplay, but to appease the emotions of his rather sensitive son, it was a sacrifice he would have to make. "Very well. Laurent, I am leaving the opera house. I will no longer be the manager or be affiliated with the opera house, effective immediately." Laurent was taken aback by this statement, as it showed on his face and his wide eyes. "Monsieur Durand, are you sure this is wise? Is this truly what you desire?" Durand nodded. "I am of retiring age, my good friend. I need to slow down and live out the rest of my days in peace." He shook his head, blowing a breath out of his mouth. "Being responsible for an entire opera house is quite tiresome." Laurent nodded sagely, as he was nearing his elderly years as well. Durand smiled. "But fear not, for I will be entrusting the opera house to my son, Christopher." This made Laurent smile from ear to ear. "Ah yes, your son is a trustworthy young man." He grimaced. "Albeit his head being a little in the clouds. But the boy has passion." He crossed his arms. "But why would you be so concerned as to telling him this great news? I'm sure he will be overjoyed at the prospect of owning this opera house he holds so dear."

Durand sighed. "You know my son, Laurent. He's trustworthy and capable, but he's also sensitive and sentimental. I don't know how well he will handle the pressure of being a manager." Durand looked around the enormous building, draped with expensive, velvet curtains. The seats were adorned with bright, red velvet, and the balconies for the boxes had the most exquisite drapes flowing to each side. He smiled as he took in the fresh air of the performing spirit, remembering when he had purchased this opera house as a young man. Laurent smiled as he let his friend reminisce. "I'm sure your son will be up to the challenge. He will be thrilled to take up the position his father once served." Durand smiled. "I hope he will."

Without warning, the doors to the opera house burst open, revealing a young man with bright eyes. The man started running to the stage, towards Durand and Laurent. "Father!" The man cried, running up to Durand. He flew up the stairs and tackled Durand in a massive hug. Durand chuckled dryly, trying to save his strength, for his son was crushing him like a python. "Hello, son!" He greeted him, joyously. Christopher released his father and beamed a bright smile, his pearly whites shining under the fluorescent light. "I came to watch rehearsal. I am so looking forward to the performance of Samson and Delilah." He stopped speaking when he noticed the pensive look on his father's face. He frowned. "Is there something the matter?" Durand stood closer to his son. "Son, I have something to tell you." Durand looked at Laurent. "Please pardon us, Monsieur Laurent." Laurent nodded and traveled back to his podium. He pretended not to eavesdrop, searching through is music, but it was clear to both father and son that they were being listened to.