His Voice as Soft as Thunder

Act 1 - Scene 1: Prologue

1919

The wind was restless, picking up the hat off the top of an aging man's head. He frantically tried to grab it as his company laughed.

"Oh, shut up Charles." the man chuckled as he slapped the young man that stood beside him. "Mother would be furious if we lost father's hat. Even though I'm pretty sure he never actually wore it at all." he said as he examined the fine material.

"He looked ridiculous in it, and your mother wouldn't stop laughing everytime he tried to wear it." an elderly lady giggled as she approached the two men.

"Ah, Aunt Meg you're finally here!" the first man beamed. "And no doubt your friend is the infamous Nadir?" he chuckled as he motioned toward the man next to her.

"Gustave, Charles, this was your father's old friend Nadir." Meg introduced. "Nadir, these are Erik's two boys, Gustave and Charles."

"Pleasure to finally meet you two." the man bowed.

"Pleasure to finally meet you as well." the two men extended their hands, giving Nadir a firm handshake. The beeping of a car horn broke their conversation, as Gustave turned to see a well maintained automobile, the de Changy crest embellished on the door. The young man grew skeptical as he watched a nurse exit the car first, followed by a man in uniform wheeling around an empty wicker wheelchair.

The group watched in silence as the other group helped a frail old man out of the car and into the wheelchair. The old man limped into the chair, and as he sat down and rubbed his leg, Gustave knew exactly who he was.

"I thought he was hanged!" Gustave gritted his teeth.

"Attempted murder stop being a captial crime in 1861." Meg sighed. "Unfortunately our friend hit the jackpot and got a fair sentence of life, and by the looks of it that sentence does not have long left to go." the group watched as he was wheeled into an old, fire damaged building. The wind flapping the tarp banners that hung across the pillars.

'Under Renovation: AUCTION TODAY'

"Do tell me, how exactly did the Opera Populaire burn down?" Charles asked Nadir, gripping his brother's arm in restraint as he tried to go toward the feeble old man.

"An unadulterated rage that you two were lucky never existed when you did." Meg said sternly. "Now hurry up if we want to get what your mother asked for."

The cataract eyes of the crippled man watched as the young men made their way into the theatre, the dust unsettling under every footstep they took. His eyes met those of Gustave, his father's hatred now rested in them like it was his own. He sighed as he looked away in fear and regret, the clap of the auctioneer's gavel making him jump slightly.

"Sold! Your number sir?" the man's raspy voice filled the silence. "Thank you! Lot 665 then ladies and gentlemen, a papier mache music box in the shape of a barrel organ. Attached, the figure of a monkey in persian robes, playing the cymbals. This item discovered in the vaults of the theatre still in working order ladies and gentlemen."

"Showing here!" the assistant called out as he held the music box in the air. It slowly began to play a sombre tune as it rigidly clanged the cymbals together. The boys looked at each other as they heard the music, smiling gently at each other as they prepared to make their bid.

"May I commence at 15 francs?" the auctioneer began. The two men raised their hand. "15 thank you." The nurse raised her hand for the man, earning a vicious glare from Gustave. "20, thank you sir!" and so began the war.

"Madame Giry, 25? Thank you Madame. 25 by bid, do I hear 30?" the old man raised his hand. "30! And 35?" the young man raised his hand. "35! Do I hear 40 from you sir?" the auctioneer looked back at the elderly man, who shrunk in his seat. With a resigned shake of his head the deal was done.

"Selling at 35 francs. 35 once, 35 twice, sold to the young gentlemen over to my right. Your number please." Gustave carefully approached the assistant, taking the small music box his hand began to slightly tremble in fear as he thought of dropping it. His brother glanced over his shoulder, his vision slightly impacted by a rather noticeable height difference between the two.

"A collectors piece indeed. Every detail exactly as she said. Will you still play when all the rest of us are dead?" he whispered gently, soft tears falling forming in the two men's eyes as they looked at the craftsmanship.

"He will be happy to have it back." Charles said softly. "And mother will be happy to hear his music once again." he gently patted his brother's back as they packed away the monkey in a small, decorative box.

"Lot 666, a chandelier in pieces. Some of you may recall the strange affair of the Phantom of the Opera, a mystery never fully explained." Nadir and Meg nudged Charles' arm looking at him with delightful knowledge and an invitation to listen to the story the auctioneer was telling.

"What do you mean?" Charles whispered.

"You wanted to know how it burnt down did you not?" Meg smiled softly

"Yes?"

"Then don't say your father never did anything to protect his children."

"No way." the two men whispered in amazement as they looked around the damaged building.

"We're told ladies and gentlemen, that this was the very chandelier that figures in the famous disaster." The Auctioneer's voice cut in. "Our workshops have repaired it, and wired parts of it to fit the new electric light. Perhaps we can frighten the ghost of so many years ago, with a little... illumination. GENTLEMEN!"