His Voice as Soft as Thunder

Act 1 - Scene 4: Angel of Music

Meg gently pushed herself through the crowded party that was taking place in the hallways backstage in search of _________ who never returned with the man she left with.

"Sorelli, have you seen _________?" Meg asked a ballerina who was attending to another chorus girl who was hyperventilating in a more secluded section of the hallways.

"Jammes and I tried talking to her when she was with the Persian, but she seemed like she was off in fairy-land." Sorelli said as the small Jammes wept.

"What's wrong Jammes?" Meg asked as she helped Sorrelli comfort her.

"I saw him! He was there, his face of death... just like Bouquet said..." The two girls looked at each other, unamused at the girl's hysterics. Meg gave Jammes a small pat on the back before leaving the two alone to their antics.

"Good luck finding her." Sorelli called out to Meg as Jammes sobbed in her arms.

_________ sat silently by the lit candle in the dark, neglected chapel. The soft lapping of an underground lake echoed throughout the small room as the silhouette of the water projected across the walls through a glass-stained window. She stared at the colourful mural of Jesus Christ as she rubbed her collarbone as though she was playing with a necklace.

Her skin felt tight and her eyes weary as she felt the weight difference of the tear stained tracks and the makeup that remained untouched.

"Brava, brava, bravissima." A mysterious voice whispered down her spine. _________ looked around, the edge of a coat only just visible from the corner of the room.

"Can it be?" she whispered as she gently shifted herself to face the corner. "Are you my Angel of Music?" the young woman smiled a blissfully ignorant smile as she leant toward him in an attempt to stand up. She watched as the shadow moved slowly, the candlelight reflecting on a leather glove, a hand clearly inside of it.

_________ reached out to touch the hand.

"_________, _________?" Meg's voice called out sweetly, making the hand retreat back into the shadow. _________ called out softly for the figure could come back, but a soft wind from a cape being flipped sent the same smell of fine cologne that she had come to associate with the disembodied voice whom she would sing with late at night and far from the resigned ballerinas who she loved with.

The warm, gentle embrace of Meg made her draw her hand back into her lap.

"Where in the world have you been hiding? Really you were perfect! I only wish I knew your secret, who is your great tutor?" _________ looked over to her friend, a large, toothy smile.

"Meg, when your Mother brought me here to live I would always come down here alone to light a candle for my father. Every time I would hear a voice from above and in my dreams. A voice that knows what it's like to be alone. It was soft and angelic, and I realised he was always there. You see, when my father lay dying he told me I would be protected by an Angel... and Angel of Music."

Meg looked at her with troubled disappointment.

"_________, you don't... really believe the spirit of your father is coaching you right?" _________ gave a small laugh at her friend's question.

"No. Not necessarily. But rather a man who holds the same spirit as my father and sings like an Angel." The young woman stood up, her dress sweeping the floor as she looked back at that dark corner. "Father once spoke of an Angel, I used to dream he'd appear. Now as I sing I can sense him, and I know he's here!" She made her way to the corner, Meg following uneasily.

There on a small hook hung a man's cloak, the fine cologne putting _________'s heart in a frantic pace, and Meg's nose in a scrunched up state. The young woman took the cape and held it to her chest.

"Here in this room he calls me softly, somewhere inside, hiding! Somehow I know he's always with me. He, the unseen genius!"

"I watched your face from the shadows, distant through all the applause. I hear your voice in the darkness, yet the words aren't yours!"

The girls left the chapel, walking hand in hand as they made their way back to the dressing room. Sorelli caught up with them, taking _________'s other hand as her friend shared a troubled look with her.

"Angel of music, guide and guardian. Grant to me your glory!"

"Who is this Angel?" Sorelli asked quietly. "This,"

"Angel of Music, hide no longer. Come to me, strange Angel!" _________ stopped as she looked over to Sorelli, her eyes wide with fear. "He's with me even now."

"Your hands are cold,"

"All around me."

"Your face _________," Meg guided her chin to face her. "It's white!"

"It frightens me."

"Don't be frightened...." The two girls found Madame Giry waiting just at the entrance to the foyer of the Populaire where the chatter of a large crowd of people was heard.

"We found her." Sorelli smiled as she handed _________'s hand to Madame Giry. Giry gave a soft smile as she took the lost woman under her wing, hiding her the best she could from the crowd which screamed her name. One woman tiredly pushed her way to the front, her breath leaving her from the effort.

"Miss _______!" she quietly called out as she held a small book. The young woman looked around to find a mature woman smiling at her. Her thick curly hair barely stayed in the style she had, and her outfit made her seem lucky to have a ticket in. Before she could speak to the woman, Madame Giry shooed the crowd away before pushing themselves in the botanically filled dressing room.

"Oh my goodness..." she whispered as the sickly sweet scent of the roses bombarded her. Giry chuckled as she gave _________ a motherly hug.

"You did very well my child. I am so proud of you, and so is he." she placed her tender hand on the soprano's cheek before heading toward a small table holding an iced bucked of champagne and a single red rose, a black silk ribbon tied to its stem. _________ looked at Madame Giry with a questioning look. The woman gave her a nod of permission as she gave the rose to her.

"Oh, before I forget," Giry produced a small velvet box from her coat pocket. "Here, this is from my son. Do you remember Erik? He helped you when you scraped your knee running around the theatre." Giry chuckled.

"Oh, Erik! Was he here tonight?" the young woman asked in hope.

"Unfortunately the seats sold out before he knew you were singing. He bought you this to apologize and congratulate you." _________ took the box delicately. She played with the soft velvet before opening it up to find a small ruby necklace. She gasped in delight as she looked to Madame Giry for assistance as she took the chain out of the box.

"It suits you." Giry smiled, pressing a kiss to her forehead as they looked at each other in the large mirror. "I have to go now. You best get ready for bed, you've had a big day." The two women gave each other a small peck on the cheek.

"Love you Mamma Giry." _________ smiled.

"Love you too my dear." Giry returned the smile before walking out of the room, closing the door behind her.

All too quickly, _________ was left alone again. She smiled to herself as she played with the necklace delicately. A sense of melancholy washed over her as she imagined her mother by her side, smiling her comforting smile as she brushed her hair.

"You look so beautiful, so very beautiful. With his soul, and my voice." She let more tears flow as she heard her parent's singing echoe in her mind.

"You two were beautiful, so very beautiful. May your souls be at peace." _________ whispered to herself before sitting at the small vanity. She played with the rose some more before the door opened and a young man stood in the opening.