Fallen Angels - Chapter Two

"Everyone, get into the first position, NOW!" Madame Giry ordered, being the teacher of the Opera Populaire's ballerinas, she had to have a loud, but strict voice to be overheard above all the gossip between the younger girls. If you wanted to make it in this opera house you had better do what Madame Giry ordered, for all of the ballerinas that performed went through her classes, no objections.

Madame Giry looked towards her daughter, Meg, a blonde porcelain doll just fourteen years of age, waiting at the door. As the other girls scrambled about looking for a spot, she walked towards and stood behind her, waiting too. She bent down to whisper in her ear, "What are you waiting on that would interrupt our practice?" Meg jumped, and turned around with a sigh.

"I'm sorry mother, but Christine still hasn't gotten here yet, I'm beginning to worry that maybe it wasn't a good idea for her to be a ballerina." Meg looked down at her hands, ashamed at what she had said. Her mother sighed and went down on her knees to be eye level with her. "Stop worrying, you just have to give her time, even though it's been eight years since her father's death, you have to understand, its so hard to get over those things.....", she paused then, for Christine had just entered the room.

The fifteen year old exquisite brunette put her hand to her mouth to yawn, and flitted her eyes trying to adjust to the light. Meg looked at her annoyed, "Where have you been? We almost started practice without you!" Christine looked up as if just noticing that Meg was standing there, "Oh", she said startled, "I just had a really strange dream last night, and couldn't go back to sleep because of it....", she then paused and looked down at her feet.

Meg sighed; she knew that somehow a dream had something to do with it. "Christine, all these nightmares are interfering with your life, do you want to be a ballerina or not?"
"I'm sorry Meg, I'll try harder, I promise!"

Meg smiled; she let a laugh escape her lips, "Ok, let's get into first position before mother blinds herself from staring us down." Christine looked over and saw her adoptive mother glaring at them, and every other person there for that matter. The two of them giggled as they took there spots amongst the other ballerinas and began their daily routine.

* * *

Joseph Buquet, the chief scene-shifter, looked around, glaring at the young girls as they tightened their grips on their sheets and pillows. He knew he had them scared, and that is what he liked most. "Like yellow parchment is his skin, with scars of death that no one knows where they came from," his voice then changed into a whisper, "death comes to all that have seen him, for death is what's written on his face." One of the girls then giggled in excitement.

Joseph stood up and walked towards her, "Only have I survived, after looking at such a demon. The Phantom of the Opera! But did I really escape? His face is still there haunting me......." he stared at the young blonde, is breath so close, you could smell the whiskey. His eyes nearly closed for being so red and puffy. "You must be always on your guard..... Or he will catch you, with his magical lasso!" The last part he screamed producing a long piece of rope from behind his back.

Meg and Christine then screamed too, with delight. Everyone knew that Buquet was just a drunk rambling nonsense. They figured getting a good chill and laugh every now and then was alright, but Madame Giry found it most annoying.

She suddenly came stomping in ruining the whole effect of his story, tearing the rope out of his grasp, "Those who speak of what they know, find to late that prudent silence is wise." She paused and stared right at Meg and Christine, giving them the notion to take themselves to their rooms and wait for her there. She then turned back to Joseph, "Joseph Buquet hold your tongue! Keep your hand at the level of your EYES!" She threw the rope around his neck increasing his difficulty of breathing. "If you want a ghost story you will get one, now go to bed," now directing her words towards the girls watching so intently, she kept Buquet's head at eye level the whole time, "Go NOW, I said, NOW!"

The girls got up, disappointed that the story was over, but all too eager to get to sleep. The younger ones were talking of seeing the ghost and what they would do if they did. One little brunette stated, "Well, if you ask me, I think the ghost would be a complete gentleman, people just anger him too much, that's all. Didn't you hear Buqeut's last story? He wears a black suit and walks with a cane." Then the little blonde that Joseph had tried to scare just moments before answered back, "I think he would be absolutely dreadful, the way that Buqeut goes on about him. I wouldn't want to meet him that's for sure."

The brunette scoffed, "You’re just scared!" Madame Giry then grew angrier with the girls' talk, "Be quiet! I will have no more gossip of such nonsense! If you wish to stay in this opera house you will hold your tongue of such things," she then turned her gaze from the retreating girls to the man under her grasp still struggling for air, "and you, you will stop putting these silly ideas in their heads! I will not have it! They must focus all their thought into their practices, and not be worrying about some silly ghost you made in your drunken stupidity!" She released the rope and let the man fall to the floor not even trying to give him the least bit of sympathy. "Go wash up, you stink of beer!"

Madame Giry then stormed out leaving the man lying on the floor, helpless to his own addiction. She walked down the hall to where her daughter and Christine were waiting for her. After all the commotion with Buqeut, she was excited to give the girls good news.

When she entered she saw them sitting cross-legged on Meg's bed, giggling secrets as young girls do. She smiled, feeling that all was well with Christine, and that somehow, however slowly, she was getting over what had happened years ago. "Girls, I wanted to talk to you, I have good news." Christine and Meg glanced up smiling.

"Thank you for silencing that horrid man!" Christine said, with a disgusted look on her face. "His stories have become more than I can take."

Meg smiled, but turned her focus towards her mother, "What’s the good news?" Madame Giry gently pushed Christine over and sat down beside the two. "In a few weeks, you both will have graduated from training and will be able to perform in the next season of opera galas." She lightly placed her hand on Meg's.

Christine grinned, it was what she always wanted, to take part in an opera. When her father used to talk of how grand they were she would get marvelous ideas of being on stage and performing. She suddenly frowned as Meg embraced her mother, so happy that after all those years of working she was finally to perform, but that her father would not be able to see it. She looked down at her hands and let a teardrop stain the bedspread.

Madame Giry took no notice to it and stood up walking towards the door. "You two need to get to bed in at least an hour. If you want to graduate soon, you must work harder. Rest up; I shall see you in the morning." Slowly she closed the door, and started her rounds making sure that all the other residents were sound asleep.

Meg, still excited jumped off the bed and started spinning around. "Just think Christine, all those people, finally after all these years, they will get to see how far we have......", she paused, seeing her friend was less than excited, "what’s the matter?" She sat down on the bed beside Christine, reaching to cover her shivering hands. "Isn't it what you want? You've worked as hard as I have for this!"

Christine looked up, smiling pitifully, a single tear defining the lines on her face. "It's wonderful Meg; it's just that, my father won't be there to see it. And, I want him to be so badly...." she put her face in her hands letting out the sobs that were building up inside her. Meg sighed, thinking of what was best to say, or how to react to this. "Christine, somehow you need to do something that will help ease your thoughts. Why don't you go down to the old chapel and light a candle for you father? Mother used to do it all the time for daddy. She told me that she would keep a picture of him down there, and every night she would talk to him. Even though he never answered back, she knew he was listening. Somehow it helped her get over it, maybe it will help you."

Christine paused in her crying, and furrowed her brow thinking. "Meg, that's a delightful idea!" She smiled and reached across to hug her friend. She stood up, gathered her cloak, her father's picture, and a candle, and while closing the door she looked back and said, "I'll try to be back before you go to sleep so that I don't wake you." Meg smiled, not wanting her friend to worry. "Don't think anything of it; you know I can sleep through anything!"

Christine nodded her head as if to say goodnight and quietly stepped outside, shutting the door behind her.