Seal My Fate•Phantom of the Opera Fanfiction

Chapter 4: Angel of Music

Hello my beautiful friends! How are you all doing this fine evening?

Comments are encouraged, votes would be appreciated, and happiness is dead.

Wait. That's not right.

Okay, okay, let's get to it. I don't own The Phantom of the Opera, blah, blah, blah, hope you enjoy the story.

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I quickly tied the corset around my waist, stepped through layers of petticoats, and pulled the dress over my head. Changing in the 19th century was already difficult, doing it quickly before I went back on stage was even harder. Every word I said that wasn't scripted made me nervous. What if that was the one word that would ruin the plot? The movie only covered a small portion of my life, I was left to figure the in-betweens out myself.

Just be yourself, I reminded myself, you did it for ten years and hardly a word changed. You can keep it up. Keep your secret, be yourself, and don't try to change things. It'll all work out.

As I clipped the stars into my hair, I refocused on the matter at hand. I'd been given the prima donna role the day of the show. I had to be fully and completely focused. I took the earrings and put them on, then rushed back to the side of the stage.

The curtains closed for the previous scene just then, and I took my place in the center of the stage for the very last scene of Act III, and of the entire show. The soft firelight from the sides of the stage was overcome by the blinding light that appeared as the curtain opened. I still didn't know how they managed to create light that bright. It was shockingly similar to the stage lights my high school productions used in the 21st century.

Think of me, I sang again, smiling at the audience,

Think of me fondly when we've said goodbye

Remember me

Once in a while, please promise me you'll try

I knew the song so well that I didn't have to think about it. I let my thoughts wander as my voice performed on its own accord. I glanced up at Raoul, who was sitting in Erik's seat, and smiled.

There will never be a day

When I won't think of you!

As the instrumental music played, I remembered the scene of the movie where the Phantom's head was shown for the first time as he noticed Christine singing. Did he notice this time, too? I sure hoped so, for the sake of the plot and because I wanted to please my Angel of Music—my teacher.

Ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah!

Ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah!

Ah-AH-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah

Aaaah, aaaah, aaaah

Aaaaaaa-OOOOOOOOF MEEEEE!!!

The crowd slowly rose to its feet as it applauded, throwing roses at me and showering me with Italian compliments. Smiling, I bent to the ground a few times to bow, secretly anxious for the curtains to close. The moment they did, I was off to the memorial room.

The room was eerily silent compared to the rest of the opera house. The tiles were so cold that they felt like they were wet, even though they were completely dry. An occasional gust of wind would blow my curls away from my face, and my big, bulky dress quickly adjusted to the temperature.

I took a stick and lit a candle in front of a picture of Ramin—Gustave Daaé, I corrected myself, my father. After offering an awkward smile to the man I'd never known, I let my hands fall to my lap and bowed my head to think. Or pray. I didn't really know anymore. I'd been stuck for long enough that I didn't even know which reality was real anymore. Perhaps my life as Emma had been a dream, a manifestation of the loss of my father.