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#WEP #October2023 - My #flashfiction, THE GHOST OF OPERA GARNIER

Hello all!

It's time for October's WEP challenge, based on the Phantom of the Opera. For this #flashfiction, I have retold the classic story in fairytale form, using third person omniscient, not the 'person' I usually write in, but I felt it suited this story.

Hopefully, my retelling of the classic suits the October thrill fest.

The Ghost of Opéra Garnier

Opera Garnier showing its underground caverns
Credit

Onceupon a time, in the beautiful heart of Paris, beneath the majestic OpéraGarnier, lay a world hidden from prying eyes. From the pinnacles of itsrooftops to its underground caverns and lake, it was a realm of whispers and shadows.Here passion and despair intertwined like dark strands of haunting melodies.

This wasthe home of the Phantom of the Opera who had lived in a labyrinthine lair beneath the theater for as long as anyone could remember. Shrouded in mystery andillusion, his soul bore the weight of a thousand unspoken sorrows.

The Phantom had been alegend in the Parisian opera house for decades. He was a genius - acomposer, master of disguise, violin virtuoso. His compositions, resemblingfragments of a tortured soul, echoed through the corridors and enchanted everysoul who heard them.

But the Phantom's truegenius lay in his artistry of concealment. In the decades he had inhabited thecavernous spaces, he had never been seen by a single soul, his presence onlyknown through the haunting letters and cryptic instructions he was wont to write.

He was hideouslydisfigured according to the rumor spread by members of the Belle Epoque societywho floated through the opera house halls in search of the next exquisiterendition of their favorite operas.

But if no one had seenhim, how did the rumor begin?

There was but one who knew him.

Her name was Christine Daaé, abeautiful, talented young soprano, the Phantom’s obsession. She was entrancedby her mysterious benefactor, believing him to be the Angel of Music her fatherhad promised would watch over her when she embarked on her new career. Hervoice had drawn the Phantom like a moth to a flame. He tutored her in secret,taking her from chorus girl to star of the opera in a few short months.

One evening, as Christineprepared to perform her signature role as Marguerite in "Faust," a fragrantred rose lay on her dressing room table, accompanied by a note in eleganthandwriting.

"My dearest Christine,

Tonight, the world shall hear your voice as never before.Tonight, you shall be the embodiment of perfection. Do not forget, my love,that you are mine, and I am yours. Let none come between us. Every note yousing, every breath you take, is a symphony of our shared passion.

Yours eternally, The Phantom"

Christine's heartbeat tripledin speed. She knew the Phantom watched her every move, guiding her togreatness.

“I will honor you with aperfect performance, my Phantom,” she whispered, laying the red rose in the centerof her dressing table.

She sang from the bottom of her heart;the audience hung on to her every note. The Phantom whirled around her, apresence guiding her to perfection.

Performance over, theapplause was one almighty roar. Over and over she was called back to the stageto bask in the adoration of the crowd until she stood knee deep in red roses.

But the only red rose shecared about waited in her dressing room.

She rushed from the stage assoon as the curtain fell for the final encore, her heart pounding with thethrill of the night.

As she entered thedressing room, the Phantom stood before her, a shadow cloaked in darkness. Herehe was, the man who haunted her dreams and shaped her destiny.

"Christine." Hisvoice a mix of longing and desperation.

She approached him, handoutstretched, curiosity overcoming her fear. "You were there," shewhispered, "with me on stage. I felt your presence. Are you indeed a ghostas they say?"

"Yes, I cannot denyit." His voice trembled. "My ghostly form allows me to always be withyou, my dear Christine. Your talent is a mystical gift from me, a reflection ofour love."

Christine reached out andtouched the glittering silver mask. "Why do you hide your real self?"

He hesitated, then removedhis mask. “If you reject me, I will leave his building, and you, forever.”

“I will never reject you,my Angel.”

The sight that met hereyes was beautiful and tragic. His skin pallid, his features distorted by acruel twist of fate. But his eyes, pools of deep emotion, overflowed with ayearning that reached into Christine's soul.

"You see, my love, Iam a monster as they claim," he murmured. “Unexplained deaths are laid atmy door. They declare I am a master of secrecy and horror.”

Tears welled inChristine's eyes. She gazed into his face. Placed a hand on his caped shoulder."Never call yourself a monster," she said. "You are a genius, amaestro of music, a man with a heart that loves deeply."

Tears ran down the Phantom’sravaged face. “I expected rejection, but your words fill me with a glimmer ofhope.” He touched her cheek, his gloved hand trembling. "Christine, I haveloved you from the moment I heard your voice. Will you ever be able to love aman as grotesque as I?"

Christine pressed his handto her heart. "I already do, my Angel. I love you for the music you havegiven me, for the passion you have awakened in my soul as no other has done."

The Phantom could notbelieve his ears. For so many years, he had hidden in the shadows, a ghost, believinghimself unworthy of love, and now, Christine offered him her heart. He kissedher hand, trailed kisses up her arm, his lips cold, yet gentle against herskin.

Their love was a forbiddenone that defied convention. But it was a love that transcended the boundariesof the world above and the world below.

“My Phantom, together wewill face the challenges that lay ahead.”

“Yes, Christine, our love isa melody that will endure for all eternity.”

And their bittersweetmelody echoed through the hallowed halls of the Opera Garnier for all time, atestament to the power of love and music.