It had been her love of the story that made Crystal first search out a job as a tour guide in the Charles Garnier Opera House. �The Phantom of the Opera� had taken place in just the perfect setting. The building was stunningly beautiful, and so rich with history that she simply fell in love with it before she had a chance to pick up an application. Even without the story of the Phantom to entrance her, the art and architecture of the building amazed her just as much. For three years, she had loved being part of the history, and adored conveying it to others. Her wild imagination would sometimes get carried away, and as she brought crowds by box five, she�d think she heard a strange sound behind the constantly locked door. It was always kept locked during working hours. Too often, over-zealous fans of the �Phantom� story had gone in there, often being rambunctious or rowdy in manners that usually had them thrown out of the building, and banned from ever returning. But she truly loved her fellow Phantom Phans. Whenever she saw someone eyeing the box as they passed, she would temporarily stop so they�d have the chance to soak in the experience of being so close to the beginning part of a legend. She�d pretend to turn her back, and be oblivious to those who held envelopes feebly hidden in their coats, and let the extreme fanatics leave their private letters to the Opera Ghost. It was all such fun, and such a joy. �Crystal, are you coming to lunch, or not?� She had just closed one of the tours, and as Crystal watched the amazed tourists move towards the front doors, or linger in the lobby to admire the art, she turned to smile at Sophia, an older woman who had been working in the Opera for much longer than she had. The woman with soft brown hair, and piercing green eyes, looked at her invitingly, as her and the other guides picked up their coats from behind the front desk, ready for their hour and a half long lunch period. �I brought mine.� She told them quietly. �I�m going to stay here today, and have some time to myself.� Sophia laughed quietly, shaking her head. �You aren�t going to sing to the old ghosts of the place again, are you?� She asked teasingly. �Really, you have an astounding voice, but I think they�re pretty tired of you by now. Nearly every day for seven months would be enough to drive anyone mad.� Crystal turned away, her cheeks coloring a brilliant crimson. One day, Sophia had come onto the stage as she came back from lunch, walking in on Crystal while she was singing the most climatic part of Faust�s �The Jewel Song�. She sang that song often, at least three times a month, simply because she remembered how it had been the Phantom�s favorite, in Leroux�s novel. She�d been mortified, because Sophia never let her live out that moment. Even having fun in singing the Phantom�s favorite song, on the Phantom�s stage, she never really thought of herself as singing to the Ghost. She preferred to sing alone, rather than with any audience, and so alone during lunch hour seemed the best opportunity. Living out a quiet dream of singing on stage � even without an audience � only made it that much more entertaining. �Mind your own business.� She muttered, walking off, a small key tucked into the wide cuff of her uniform jacket sleeve. The others walked out of the building, locking the doors behind them as usual. Now finally alone, Crystal hurried up a flight of stairs, down a corridor, and stopped at the door to Box Five. She listened carefully outside the door for a long moment, startled at first. She�d thought she had heard something again, like someone murmuring quietly, as though reading a book aloud. But the sound had immediately halted when she stopped outside the door. �Erik?� She asked aloud, chuckling to herself. She knew damn well that no one would answer. Still, it was fun. A long moment passed, and grinning, she slipped the key into the lock, and opened the door. She stepped inward, careful of the three envelopes already waiting to be read by the Opera Ghost from the tours that morning. Crystal was always respectful of her fellow Phans, and had never read a single one of them. Nor had she ever allowed anyone else to read them. But tonight she gave them a second glance as she sunk down into what was known as the Phantom�s chair. Closing her eyes, she kicked off her slip-on shoes, and leaned back in the chair, letting her hands hang limply over the arms to the chair. The silence was throbbing around her, and it was a lovely break from the noise of the unusually large crowds she�d happily received that morning. She had almost begun to doze of, thinking about the things that had occurred in this box, according to legend. ��No emperor ever received so fair a gift. The angels wept tonight.� Her eyes snapped open, and she looked around in confusion. The dialogue was familiar to her, from Gaston Leroux�s book. Yet she did not recognize the voice that said the words, and she saw nothing when she looked about. Quickly standing, she moved out into the hall, then back inside to look the theatre over. No one was there. It had to have been her imagination, she�d decided. Sighing, she ran her fingers through her long, spiraling blonde hair, and sat back down, again closing her eyes. This time, there was nothing to disturb her dozing. Nothing except for her memories of a sweet singing voice from a musical version of The Phantom�s story, �The Music of the Night�, and it was indeed sweet. She let the memory lull her into a deeper doze, and soon she was almost snoring. �Co-ak!� Her eyes shot open again, only this time the sounds didn�t stop as she sat up. �Co-ak!� Looking around, Crystal desperately sought out the source of the terrible croaking. Yet nothing showed. In the center of the theatre ceiling of the auditorium, the chandelier seemed to jiggle a little; just enough for the crystal to jingle noticeable. The shadows of the theatre shifted as the light moved. The croaking continued for long moments, and although part of Crystal insisted she was dreaming, she was sincerely terrified. �She is singing tonight to bring the chandelier down!� Said a voice by her ear, followed by wicked chuckling. If she was hearing the exact words from the novel, then undoubtedly she was dreaming. If there were any such thing as the Opera Ghost � which there couldn�t be � then certainly his dialogue couldn�t precisely follow the dialogue of a book, which was mostly fiction. With her heart thundering in her ears, she backed out of the box, closing and locking it as swiftly as she could. All noise stopped the moment the bolt of the lock clicked into place. It was only then that Crystal realized she�d left her shoes in the box, by the chair. She had to get them in order to continue giving tours the rest of the afternoon. Yet she was afraid of going back in. She didn�t want the Phantom to be real. Not if he was like that. Maybe he was just playing harmless games if he was real � and she still thought it was all her imagination. No matter what had truly happened in that box, she was not anxious to go back in. Ten minutes of silence passed, and she knew that time was growing short. A single glance at her silver digital watch had informed her that her nap had been longer than she originally thought. Lunch was almost over, and soon the others would be back. She had to get her shoes back before they came and made her look like a real fool. With slightly shaking hands, she unlocked the door, stepped inside, and grabbed her shoes. Nothing happened, and she left to lock the door securely, with nothing else having tried to frighten her. After work, she stood solemly on the outside steps leading into the Opera House, waiting for her boyfriend to pick her up. He was another American, who had come to Paris hoping to take cullinary classes, and return to America to become a world-renown chef. Yet he wasn�t what she would call a dreamer. He simply liked to cook, and he believed in making money. He wasn�t the sort to imagine what it would be like to have his own chain of restaraunts. No, he was more the type that was going to give it his best shot and see where life put him. No dreams for him. Only he wasn�t an asshole, like many other cynical bastards out there who pounced on your dreams and tore them to shreds because their�s didn�t come true. He accepted the dreams of others, and encouraged them. With long sandy hair, dyed with streaks of bleach-blonde in it, and icy blue eyes that defied imagination, he was everything she�d wanted in life. She knew that when he picked her up, she could tell him about her experience in the Opera House without being treated like a complete idiot. Even if he didn�t believe her, she knew he�d be understanding about her fear. The small green car pulled up to the sidewalk, and Craig stepped out of the drivers� side, carrying a yellow rose. Smiling, he moved up to slip an arm about her small waist, and kiss her lightly on the mouth. "Hello, beautiful." He whispered softly, pressing his forehead against hers. Smiling, Crystal slipped her arms about him, and simply watched him for a few seconds. "God, you look tired. Want to go home and watch a movie, instead of going out?" "Out?" she echoed stupidly, blinking in confusion. With a frown, Craig pulled back, and offered her the yellow rose. "You really must be tired. We were going to take in a show tonight. You bought the tickets three months ago." "Oh, shit!" Crystal turned away, smacking her head with the heel of her hand. "Sweeney Todd! Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!" The fine arts department of Craig�s university was putting on the Stephen Sondheim play that semester, and for some reason it had earned a great deal of publicity, and she�d only been able to get tickets because Craig was a student and had pulled strings before tickets went on sale to the public. Why Sweeney Todd would get such intrest in France, she had no idea. It was going to be intresting hearing their interpretation. But she�d entirely forgotten about it. "Crys? You O.K?" Craig took her shoulder lightly. "God, Craig, I�m sorry! I forgot! You wouldn�t believe the day I�ve had!" She turned, and he slipped an arm once more about her waist as he led her to the car, and helped her into the passenger side. "Take me home, quick. I�ve got to shower, and change, and �" "Hey, if you�re too tired." "Too tired?" She sighed. "No, I�m not tired. Really. Besides, I�ve never seen Sweeney Todd live before. I�ll tell you about it after the show, all right? Right now, we�ve got to burn some rubber." "Time to make space tracks." He chuckled, quoting from his favorite Mel Brooks movie. Just as was suggested, he completely peeled out of the side-walk parking spot, and hightailed onto the street. Grabbing the suicide bar in front of her, Crystal gasped sharply, and then turned to glare at him, although it wasn�t seen because of the huge grin she couldn�t keep hidden. "Easy there, Lonestar." She laughed softly, turning to look out the window. |
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