Disclaimer: I do not own the Phantom of the Opera

Of the Angels

Chapter 1

It's been three years since my papa died, and it still hurts. Loneliness had been my only feeling since then and my dark dressing room doesn't help.

I had landed a small singing role in Faust when I had auditioned for the new Opera house- if you could call it new- and had been given an empty dressing room for my own. It was one of thousands of rooms in this building, and I was lucky to have one. But, it doesn't make any difference, I'm still alone.

On the weekends I spend the nights with Mama Valerius, but during the week I'm stuck here. My dressing room has dark red walls and odd pink carpeting, it's the exact opposite of my room at Mama Valerius'. For it has white walls, wood flooring and a little yellow bed from when I was a child.

I like to think of those times. Back then my time was spent running along beaches and looking for fairies. I miss those times, but I miss papa more.

Often my mind will wander off during rehearsals to think of him. Sometimes I'll even think I hear him talking to me. Telling me stories of goblins, and kings, and angels. He promised me he would send me the angel of music, but I'm still waiting on him.

I trust that the angel must be busy though. I wonder if papa has met him yet, playing his violin while the angel sings. He must of, because most of the time I think I hear papa playing his violin. Actually, I think I hear him playing it right now. Yes, playing the Resurrection of Lazarus, just like he would each night before I would go to sleep.

But this time, it didn't sound like it was in my head. No, it sounded as if the music was coming from the walls. I look around myself and see nothing. Where could it be coming from? Perhaps it's coming from the hallway.

Creeping towards the door, careful not to disturb the heavenly music, I place my hand on the knob before jerking it open. Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Despite the fact that no one but myself was on the hall, the music continued. I walked back into my dressing room and quietly shut the door. Maybe someone was in the room. I hadn't heard anyone come in, but it was possible.

"Hello?" I timidly called out. The music stopped so abruptly it caused a chill to go down my back. I had dared to disrupt the music!

"Who's there." I asked, not thinking to hide my fear.

"Who should I be?" The most amazing voice answered.

This voice was no human voice, it must be the angel of music!

"Were you the one just playing?" I asked a little louder.

"Yes." The voice replied.

"Are you the Angel of Music?" I dared to whisper.

"Of course." The voice - no - the angel answered. The Angel was in my dressing room! I fell to my knees in tears.

"Oh angel, I've waited for you. Oh, how I've waited for you-"

"Stand up, Christine." The voice cut me off.

I immediately stood up and brushed my dress off.

"How do you know my name?" I wondered aloud.

"I am an angel, Christine. I know the names of all my students." He answered.

"Oh." Was all I could say.

How silly of me to question an all knowing angel about how he knows my name. Yes, quite silly of me.

"Christine, if I may ask, would you allow me to give you lessons on your voice? I heard you singing just the other day. Your father told me a great deal about you, and when I heard your voice I knew it was you." The angel said with his entrancing voice.

To think, an angel wanted to give me voice lessons!

"Of course. You did not need to ask my permission, though." I agreed.

"Then I wish to start Monday, 7 o' clock in the morning." The voice ordered.

"I will not be late, I promise." Once I said this, the music started again. But this time it was not only the violin, for an unearthly voice joined in, singing the words.

The sound intoxicated me. It seemed as if I was floating but my feet were on the ground. My eyes slowly closed as the music played. Oh, what a voice! It must be from the heavens, no question about it.

The world seemed to stop as I listened to this angel. My angel. I dropped to my knees and cried, but these were tears of joy, not sorrow. My angel had come.

"Papa thank you. Papa, you remembered. Thank you so much. I knew that you'd come through. Thank you, thank you!" I cried out to papa. The music stopped again.

"You miss your father don't you." The angel asked me. I raised my head and nodded.

"Very much." I answered.

"You don't have a mother either, do you."

"No. Just Mama Valerius."

"And she is not a mother to you?"

"Not really. She loves me, and I come to her for support, but no. She will never take the place of my real mother."

"Oh."

"I love her like a mother, it's just hard to explain."

"There are many things that are hard to explain. But eventually, they are explained."

"Will you sing again?" I ask.

"Of course" With that he picked up where he had left off.

I lifted myself up off of the floor and walked over to my mirror. The sound was loudest there. I laid my hand on the cold surface and looked into it. I saw myself, my dressing room, and my furniture. Everything was the same, yet it was different.

My room no longer felt lonely and cold. It was alive with comfort for I was no, longer alone. Now I had a friend. True, not a friend of the earth, but a friend nonetheless.