The Music of the Night by Amanda Ashley

The Music of
the Night
     
    Amanda
Ashley
     
     
    Christie Matthews couldn’t believe
it, she was actually inside the Paris Opera House. It was everything she had
ever imagined, and more. Try as she might, she couldn’t find words to describe
it. Beautiful seemed woefully inadequate. Awesome came close, but still fell
short.
     
    She owed her fascination with the
Paris Opera House solely to Andrew Lloyd Webber – or to be more exact – to her
fascination with the amazing production The Phantom of the Opera . She had
seen the movie, of course, but it didn’t hold a candle to the stage play. She
had seen the play once, and once had not been enough. The music had enthralled
her; the plight of the Phantom had touched her every emotion from joy to
despair, and she had eagerly joined the ranks of those feeling emotionally
drained when the Phantom’s last anguished cry faded away.
     
    She had become obsessed with all
things Phantom. She had collected everything she could find with that
world-famous logo: music boxes and posters, ads in the paper, books and magazine
articles. If it related to the Phantom, she simply had to have it: dolls and
figurines; snow globes and playing cards; picture frames and jewellery;
Christmas ornaments and collector plates; every version of the music on tape or
CD that she could find.
     
    Before coming to Paris, she had
researched the Opera House online and found a wealth of information. The Opera
House had been built by Charles Garnier (at that time a young, unknown
architect). Completed in 1876, the Palais Garnier was considered by many to be
one of the most beautiful buildings on earth. The theatre boasted 2,000 seats;
the building’s seventeen storeys covered three acres of land. Seven levels were
located underground, among them chorus rooms and ballrooms, cellars for old
props, closets and dressing rooms, as well as numerous gruesome objects from the
various operas that had been produced there. It was rumoured that these grisly
effects had sparked the idea behind Gaston Leroux’s The Phantom of the Opera .
     
    And now, after scrimping and saving
for three years, she was there, in the Phantom’s domain. Alone. Shortly after
the final curtain, she had hidden in one of the bathrooms. If she got caught
wandering around, she would simply say she had lost her way.
     
    Which would not be a lie, because she
really was lost. There were so many hallways, so many doors, she no longer knew
where she was.
     
    Her footsteps echoed eerily in the
darkness as she climbed a set of winding stairs and then, to her relief, she
found herself inside the theatre.
     
    She sank into a seat near the back of
the house and gazed around, wondering if this had been such a good idea after
all. It was dark and quiet and a little bit spooky sitting there all alone.
     
    Resting her head on the back of the
seat, she closed her eyes and music filled her mind – the haunting lyrics of
‘The Music of the Night’; The Phantom’s tortured cry when he sees Christine and
Raoul pledging their love on the roof top; his heartbreaking plea when he begs
Christine to let him go wherever she went; his anguished cry as he takes her
down to his lair; his rage and anger and the faint glimmer of hope when he
demands she make her choice; the last haunting notes when he declares it is
over.
     
    There was a never-ending discussion
on any number of web sites about whether Christine should have stayed with the
Phantom, and also surveys asking whether the listers themselves would have
stayed with Erik (the Phantom) or gone with Raoul. Poor Raoul, he seemed to be
disliked by one and all.
     
    There had never been any doubt in
Christie’s mind that she would have stayed with the Phantom. She knew what it
was like to be left for another, knew the pain and the heartache of unrequited
love, knew there was more to life than sweet words and a pretty face.
     
    Sitting there, with her eyes