The Phantom of the Opera.
His touch was warm though the thick leather of his gloves, his eyes pierced through Sirius’ thoughts, and his voice… his voice rang through the tunnel that Sirius was being led through. Drawn to.
His appearance begged for Sirius’ voice and Sirius wanted to beg for his voice to ring as loud as possible. It almost hurt not to sing, his throat begged to be let free.
So he sang, as though it was the most natural thing to do. And it came to him as easy as speaking or walking.
In sleep
he sang to me,
in dreams
he came . . .
that voice
which calls to me
and speaks
my name . . .
His voice echoed off the shining walls lined with candles and gold, singing back to him like a choir. Warm light guided the mesmerized boy and mysterious figure down the tunnel and a crisp chill followed Sirius back. It didn't feel real, like a dream that you could hardly remember. The hand was too warm and the air was too cold.
The phantom's golden brown eyes dashed between Sirius’ mesmerized eyes and the flowing water now in front of them, as though the mysterious creature was trying to juggle Sirius' curiosity between the warmth of his gloved hand and the tall and echoing towers now above them.
And do
I dream again?
For now
I find
the Phantom of the Opera
is there -
inside my mind . . .
The phantom gestured for Sirius to lower himself into a well structured boat floating on the calm water. But Sirius didn't notice, he simply did it. He could take his eyes off the cloaked ghost.
Their hands did'nt part ways until the creature reached back for a long oar and placed it into the water, pushing them forward. Deeper into the hidden tunnels under the opera house.
And that's when Sirius heard it. The spellbinding voice of the creature.
The voice of the phantom of the opera.
Sing once
again with me
our strange
duet . . .
My power
over you
grows stronger
yet . . .
Sirius held his breath, or was it taken from him?
As the boat glided along the water, ripples surrounded them like mirrors closing in. And just as the boat turned toward the dark tunnels going deeper into the underground, Sirius’ eye caught a glimpse of the passageway they had just come from. It warm glow flickering.
But it was soon drawn back to the angelic voice of the boat's captain.
And though
you turn from me,
to glance
behind,
the Phantom of the Opera
is there -
inside your mind . . .
It was unnatural. A sound so beautifully inhuman, so hypnotic, so breathtaking, Sirius could not take his thoughts away.
The only thing that came anywhere near as beautiful as the voice was the carved statues on each side of the water, seemingly struggling under the weight of the opera house. Every corner is perfectly lit to see the details but still dim enough to invoke curiosity. Thick fog covered the surface of the water, jumping up as they pushed the boat along, threatening to grab Sirius.
All around him a small hum of music buzzed in Sirius’ ear, and he joined the echoes of art.
Those who
have seen your face
draw back
in fear . . .
I am
the mask you wear . . .
He did not need to think of the words needed to be sung, they just came to him.
And the phantom echoed back,
It's me
they hear . . .
And than Sirius felt his voice lift and two voices became one,
Your spirit
And my voice,
in one
combined:
the Phantom of the Opera
is there
inside your mind . . .
As though in approval, rejoining in the syncing of hypnotic inhuman song, the walls sang back,
He's there.
The Phantom of the Opera . . .
Beware!
The Phantom of the Opera . . .
And the phantom recounted their song, with his own, his last words thirsting for more of Sirius’ voice,
In all your fantasies,
you always knew
that man and mystery . . .
So Sirius answered,
. . . were both
in you . . .
Who was this creature? What was this creature? Sirius’ mind begged the questions but he was so lost in the sympathy of mythical music he didn't want the answers. He just wanted to sing, for the creature to sing.
SO once again, the longing for song rose in Sirius’ throat and than their voices joined,
And in this labyrinth,
where night is blind,
the Phantom of the Opera
is here
inside your mind . . .
And than the phantom's voice echoed heavily in the halls, begging on thing from Sirius,
Sing, my Angel of Music!
Sirius was more than happy to oblige. Down in the depths of the dark tunnels his voice never felt more free. Never felt more appreciated, more seen.
He's there,
the Phantom of the Opera . . .
Then his voice soared. Belting louder and louder, higher and higher. He wasn't sure how it happened, it was as though someone was pulling his voice out of him. A chill went down his spine, but he welcomed it.
And as Sirius's voice echoed back to him he approached a large iron gate, bright light coming from behind it.
Sing for me, my angle of music!
The phantom sang out from behind him, as though blocking him from the world he had left.
So Sirius’ thundering voice grew more. It echoed off every wall around him, surrounding him in his music. And for a moment he felt lighter. The only thing that he felt in that moment was his chest rattling and his throat rising. He held on to his last note as long as he could, as high as his throat let him.
And just as he finished his last note, the boat stopped.
In Front of him was the Phantom's world.
In front of him was the world of myths. And Sirius was in front of the myth himself. But he wasn't afraid, he was mesmerized.
In the depths of the opera, a place even the rats wouldn't have gone, Sirius could only focus on the creature's eyes. The eyes of longing and desperation.