Hey everybody!

I ADORE Phantom of the Opera but, even though I'm don't hate Raoul so much, I still feel cheated out of a happy ending. I want the Phantom to be happy! I love Eric!

So in this story I will try (but maybe not succeed) to continue the story of Phantom. And I will give some back story of how poor disfigured Eric Chevalier became the Brilliant PHANTOM OF THE OPERA. (just picture a really big booming voice saying that.) And by the way I will be taking some artistic license on that.

The Opera House is back in business, having had serious work done for the past 15 years, after the infamous accident. No one has had any mischief from the Phantom for a long time. A new generation rules the Opera House and one girl lives in the Opera House as a stagehand and loves the Opera just as much as her parents did...

This is the story of Elissa, the orphan stagehand.

This is the story of Eric, a brokenhearted Phantom.

Prologue

Elissa's World

It had always been a mystery, how I came into this world, and how I came to live in the Opera Populaire. I had always been told that I'd find out someday, but here it was fifteen years and that day had not come. I had no idea who my parents were. I had no last name and I knew nothing of the two people I should call parents. I only have a first name: Elissa.

My caretaker and the ballet instructor, Meg Giry, is the only motherly figure in my life, after her mother died. I was told her mother had been good friends with my parents and had been given full responsibility over me. Meg was also good friends with my mother; they were childhood friends. All I know about my mother is that she too lived in the Opera House her whole life and that she had died soon after giving birth to me. I know nothing of my father. I wonder sometimes who he is or if he is dead too.

I know the Opera House better than any other girls since I have been here since I was a baby. I came here when I was three I think. I could sleep walk my way from the attic where the old props are stored all the way down to the catacombs under the ground; filled with rats and dark corners.

Meg has always chastised me when ever she caught me in the basement. She is still weary of the old Opera Ghost! Everyone knows the stories, how a disfigured man called the Opera Ghost became obsessed with one of the leading sopranos and it led to the destruction of the Opera House. Some of the ballerinas still shriek when they hear the tale, they still believe the silly myth. All I know is that fact of myth, the "Opera Ghost" would have done well to leave the Opera after the disaster. So I never had any fears of meeting a Ghost in any of my explorations of the new Opera.

Never the less Meg worried, and she banned my future explorations. I have to admit, downstairs was dangerous. At any moment a ceiling or wall might cave in, in was so old. And it was a labyrinth, filled with never ending halls and passageways. One could easily get los, or wander into the lake and drown. Lucky for me, I never got lost or stumbled into any traps.

I enjoyed my life at the Opera, parents or no parents. Many though thought that my position was very queer. You see I was the only girl stagehand. Meg had never told me to stop and be a proper girl and become a ballerina or chorus girl. And I was quiet happy with that. You see I'm hopelessly clumsy, and I just don't like singing. But I do love moving the set pieces, pulling open the curtain; painting a backdrop or chair…. I love knowing that I helped put together a piece of art. I guess I just don't like being the center of attention.

Of course because of this the other girls are distant around me. I don't fit in at all. Most of them I consider complete idiots anyway, so I don't mind. So very girly and brainless. They only talk about the latest fashions and boys. I like being on my own. Of course I'm interested in boys; I've had my fair share of crushes. But I hang out with boys; I really can't talk about crushes with them. But fashions, eww no. I despise corsets with a fiery passion. I prefer trousers and a plain white shirt. It's what the boys' wear I know, but dresses are annoying when walking around the crowded backstage.

My life is pretty good. I don't really need an annoying father coming into it and requesting I go to boarding school and wear proper dresses. The Opera is my home, it will be forever.

Not to get sentimental with you though, but I was annoyed as I walked through the crowded hallways. Like most times, at Meg. She had once again caught me sneaking down to the basement and this time she had threatened me with leaving the Opera House. I knew it was only her temper, she could never send me away. But I was still on her bad side

I walked into my room and plopped onto the bed. My room was simple, no prima donnas' room, but it wasn't the room of a stagehand either. It had dark midnight blue walls and a matching four poster bed. I had a dresser, a bathroom with a full sink and shower, and a writing desk. A full length mirror was hung on one wall, surrounded by many performance posters and old opera books. I had a souvenir from ever performance I had ever helped with. At least one person in the audience left there scene booklet behind. The room was lit by hanging gas lamps and candles, the lamps being an added luxury, since Meg knew how I love to read long into the night.

The one thing that had ever been missing from my room was flowers. Flowers are my second love, second only to the Opera Populaire. How I envied all of the singers and ballerinas who got bouquet after bouquet after each performance. They got them from family members and lovers, of which I had none. I'd never gotten any flower after a performance. The prima donna, Marguerite de Tourney got millions of flowers. I've only been in the prima donnas' room twice; the first time I sneaked in after an opening gala. The room was filled with every kind of flower you could imagine! Marguerite is spoiled, though sweet. She has a beautiful voice and is kind to me. I've heard horror stories of the previous diva from the old conductor, M. Reyer. (He isn't conducting anymore, not since the accident, but he visits sometimes.) But I'd like just once to get some flowers, even a simple rose would do!

I heard a knock on the door and groaned.

"Come in!" Antoine walked in and I sat in a more lady like manner. He smirked at my sudden movement and annoyed expression. Antoine and I were friends; he just liked to drive me nuts.

"Madame Giry wants to see you on stage, by the prop closet. She says it's urgent. I followed him out of the room.

"Did she say why she wanted me?" This was weird; usually after we fought she wouldn't speak to me for hours.

"You know her," he said, "She just hollered for someone to get Elissa."

"I wonder why." I walked onto the right backstage and Meg rushed over to me. Now one thing you should know about Meg, is that she used to be this sweet little thing (I only know this from Reyer.) but ever since her mother died a couple of years back she ruled the Opera House with an iron fist. Taking after her mother, the strictest Frenchwomen you could ever meet.

"Good Elissa, thank god, merci Antoine, "she said as she took my arm. Antoine left, still looking confused.

"What's this about Meg, what's…?" I didn't finish as I looked on the stage and saw the other stagehands trying to hoist up one of the backdrops.

"Why is that backdrop down?" I asked, "It's not being used in this performance…."

"It fell," Meg said curtly, "On Mademoiselle Marguerite."

"Non! Is she okay?"

"She's fine, just a little bit shocked."

"You can't possible think I…"

"No. I do not blame you. And it's not the other stagehand's fault either."

"Why do you need me then?"

"I just wanted to make sure you were okay," she said and I noticed for the first time what she was holding. It was a plain white envelope, opened already so I could not tell what the red seal had looked like. She noticed I was looking and quickly put away the note.

"What's that?"

"A letter, nothing of importance. Elissa, you should go help them." I went to help them get everything in order for the next rehearsal and Meg left. Antoine came back to me.

"What did Madame Giry need from you then?"

"Nothing really; just to tell me what happened. See if I was alright."

"Alright."

"I don't know, maybe because of the fight we had." I suspected more than that but I didn't tell Antoine. As soon as I could get off the stage I rushed to Meg's apartments; making sure she was still on the stage. Being the ballet instructor meant she had the biggest rooms and I sneaked into the frequently. I was lucky, she was yelling at someone, and I crept over to the writing desk. The letter was not there, but after some searching I found it hidden under a pile of old fabric order forms. The front was plain, but the seal was a shape I could only figure out after I folded it back together.

A red skull.

Who one earth would be sending Meg a note with a red skull stamp? No wonder she looked so flustered. I opened the letter and find a plain piece of parchment inside. Was it from a lover? I had never known Meg to have a courter, and I used to make up stories that she had a tragic romance in her youth. But a lover would never send a skull stamp on a love note. Was it an enemy, was she in danger?

I turned the parchment paper over and there was only one sentence in excellent calligraphy.

I'm Back

If you don't know who the letter is from you are a fail.

And go and re watch your movie/musical/ or read the book again!

Cliff hanger huh? So did you like? If you like, please review! It will help me get the next chapter up faster! Please I beg you!