Seal My Fate•Phantom of the Opera Fanfiction

Chapter 19: Monster

Above is a music video comparing Erik's life to the song Monster from Frozen on Broadway (the song that appears in this chapter). Although the comparison itself is my art, I do not own either the song or the Phantom of the Opera.

Yes, yes, I know I said I wouldn't use the disclaimers anymore, but it's just so tempting...

Anywho, happy Saturday, everyone!!

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Meg

Don Juan triumphs once again!

It was our first rehearsal with the rest of the cast, and I'd already been the main dancer for a week. My mother had told me that the composer (Really? The Phantom of the Opera himself?) loved my interpretation, saying it "truly captured the emotion of the piece" and was second only to Christine, who couldn't be Prima Donna and a silent dancer at the same time.

Dancing was my life's work. I took pride in hearing a piece's emotion and using my body to create a visual display of it. I never missed the true intention of a composer, which was sometimes surprising considering I was musically untrained—I could recognize the general shape of a melody on paper, but otherwise I was oblivious—though in some circumstances that seemed to work in my favor.

"Please," shouted one of the stagehands, "cut out the cacophony and rehearse an opera."

"This is the opera," André shouted back.

"Well, it doesn't sound like one."

This was not unlike the other comments I'd heard recently. Personally, I thought the opera was genius. The hunting for emotion that usually played such a crucial role in my rehearsal process was completely unnecessary with this—the entire story was right there! Even when I danced, it required no thought. The music seemed to posses me, tossing me around the stage in the most graceful of motions, only releasing me when it ended. It wasn't my work that made the dances come to life, it was the work of the music itself! I certainly didn't trust the opera ghost, but I could not deny his musical genius.

"Firmin, this is doing nothing for my nerves," André whispered. "The public won't like this, s-surely it isn't too late to... to change our minds?"

"Of course not. Though," Firmin slowed his words as he made a desperate attempt to keep his usually tall and strong demeanor, mumbling out of the corner of his mouth, "it may cost us another stagehand."

"Y-you're not afraid of him, are you?"

"No, no," he responded, quickly gathering himself, "of course not, there is nothing to fear. We shall perform a different opera. Unless, of course, M. Reyer objects?"

"Firmin, what are you doing?"

"André, he's the expert, and he's been here much longer than anyone else. It's only polite to ask. Besides, he never-"

"I do," asserted the humble and usually quiet man, "I do have objections." There was a brief moment of silence as the two managers tried to wrap their minds around the idea that someone disagreed with their judgment.

"All right, then," André shrugged at last, "what are your thoughts?"

"Have you seen the score?"

"Well, we've certainly heard it, don't you think it's a bit much?"

"Not at all!" cried M. Reyer, "it's genius!" He picked up his copy—the original—of the work and flipped passionately through the pages. "Just look at this! The way this is arranged—just the chords alone!—and the-"