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marshvThis is an old retelling of Gaston Leroux’s Le Fantôme de l'Opéra that I planned to publish at some point. I’ve since lost interest in it.
Title: Under Veils
Rating: G
Words: 589
Fandom: The Phantom of Opera
Pairing: None
Paris, 1870
There had been rumors of the phantom of the opera's existence for quite some time. Many years, according to the company's veterans. Years which harkened back at least a decade and possibly more. But in those years there were only hushed whispers, never possessing the sustenance to spread far in a theater of such a size.
Vast and open, it spread several acres and multiple floors with a dozen stages of different sizes and uses, all gilded and decorated in intricate molding and elaborate painting. It was an invariable maze: the hallways twisted into dark passages and hundreds of doors were kept perpetually locked, some having been closed off longer than a century. The attic above the ceiling was filled to the roof with treasures forever forgotten, the entrances to it long rotted and the wood lacking upkeep, the maintenance gone to more important things. Secret doors hid behind panels in the walls and housed morbid secrets, while some even led to the basement that went down deeper and deeper until it opened upon an underground lake that sat in a cavern larger than the theater: a mystery in itself.
Of course back then the phantom was nothing more than a cheap tale. He was the set pieces that went missing every so often, the sounds of old wood creaking up above, and the unpleasant but forgettable feeling of being watched. They were the only rumors spoken of, simply because there was not any more to say.
The phantom was something of a joke, not a true threat or source of fear to the dancers and actors who lived there. He existed as a game of dare for them to entertain themselves with. They ran down hallways at night and chortled with one another, startling each other with playful shouts and frightened gasps that turned to laughter when a ghastly shaped shadow turned out to be a coat on a hat stand.
He was ignored largely during that time, except for the Messieurs Poligny and Debienne, the managers of the opera house, and more strangely Madame Giry, the ballet instructor. It was assumed the managers regarded every happening as fact in order to protect their interests – just in the rare case one of these reports turned out to be true, and even barring that, they never treated any of it as mere coincidence. No one gave their behavior a second thought.
As for Madam Giry, her reasons were not quite so clear. In fact her stern warnings against the phantom stirred malaise and caused the dancers' to lose their footing as they became distracted by the severity in her voice. It was as if she had herself experienced terror at his hand. When prompted for a reason to her superstitions, she would only look away, lips forming a tight line and eyes boring holes into nothing while she stared.
It was not until the arrival of Christine Daae, a then recently orphaned Swedish girl, that the phantom became much more active. Things went missing at an alarming rate, important things. Quiet shuffling behind walls and loud thumping woke up the opera inhabitants at night, though it was quickly attributed to rats and then brushed aside. After several weeks the thumping ceased and the items were replaced. The shuffling continued however much more softly than before, and it became background noise that was ignored. However, a heavy weight of paranoia still hung in the air, and the tales of the phantom soon spread throughout the theater's walls.
Title: Under Veils
Rating: G
Words: 589
Fandom: The Phantom of Opera
Pairing: None
Paris, 1870
There had been rumors of the phantom of the opera's existence for quite some time. Many years, according to the company's veterans. Years which harkened back at least a decade and possibly more. But in those years there were only hushed whispers, never possessing the sustenance to spread far in a theater of such a size.
Vast and open, it spread several acres and multiple floors with a dozen stages of different sizes and uses, all gilded and decorated in intricate molding and elaborate painting. It was an invariable maze: the hallways twisted into dark passages and hundreds of doors were kept perpetually locked, some having been closed off longer than a century. The attic above the ceiling was filled to the roof with treasures forever forgotten, the entrances to it long rotted and the wood lacking upkeep, the maintenance gone to more important things. Secret doors hid behind panels in the walls and housed morbid secrets, while some even led to the basement that went down deeper and deeper until it opened upon an underground lake that sat in a cavern larger than the theater: a mystery in itself.
Of course back then the phantom was nothing more than a cheap tale. He was the set pieces that went missing every so often, the sounds of old wood creaking up above, and the unpleasant but forgettable feeling of being watched. They were the only rumors spoken of, simply because there was not any more to say.
The phantom was something of a joke, not a true threat or source of fear to the dancers and actors who lived there. He existed as a game of dare for them to entertain themselves with. They ran down hallways at night and chortled with one another, startling each other with playful shouts and frightened gasps that turned to laughter when a ghastly shaped shadow turned out to be a coat on a hat stand.
He was ignored largely during that time, except for the Messieurs Poligny and Debienne, the managers of the opera house, and more strangely Madame Giry, the ballet instructor. It was assumed the managers regarded every happening as fact in order to protect their interests – just in the rare case one of these reports turned out to be true, and even barring that, they never treated any of it as mere coincidence. No one gave their behavior a second thought.
As for Madam Giry, her reasons were not quite so clear. In fact her stern warnings against the phantom stirred malaise and caused the dancers' to lose their footing as they became distracted by the severity in her voice. It was as if she had herself experienced terror at his hand. When prompted for a reason to her superstitions, she would only look away, lips forming a tight line and eyes boring holes into nothing while she stared.
It was not until the arrival of Christine Daae, a then recently orphaned Swedish girl, that the phantom became much more active. Things went missing at an alarming rate, important things. Quiet shuffling behind walls and loud thumping woke up the opera inhabitants at night, though it was quickly attributed to rats and then brushed aside. After several weeks the thumping ceased and the items were replaced. The shuffling continued however much more softly than before, and it became background noise that was ignored. However, a heavy weight of paranoia still hung in the air, and the tales of the phantom soon spread throughout the theater's walls.
