The Phantom Rewritten: Scene 1

From the author:

This was originally published on FanFiction.net under the pen name Dracostra. Their site is down, so I'm moving it here. Enjoy! I've also included screen shots of my bio and the original post, so you know it's me! I may even still have the pencil and Composition notebook version around here somewhere...

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Scene opens on shot of a desk containing a single lit candle and a blank piece of parchment. As the camera gets closer, writing begins to appear on the parchment. The writing reads as follows:

"The Opera ghost really existed. He was not, as was long believed, a creature of the imagination of the artists, the superstition of the managers, or a product of the absurd and impressionable brains of the young ladies of the ballet, their mothers, the box-keepers, the cloak-room attendants or the concierge. Yes, he existed in flesh and blood, although he assumed the complete appearance of a real phantom; that is to say, of a spectral shade."

The camera zooms out, and the desk containing the letter fades away. When the screen has gone entirely black, an invisible hand begins to scrawl across the screen in blood red ink:

THE PHANTOM OF THE OPERA.

As the words fade into nothing, a scene opens on a small firelit parlor. There is a knock on the door, and an old voice creaks from the chair in front of the fire:

PERSIAN: Come in.

Gaston Leroux enters

LEROUX: Monsieur.

Leroux bows to the chair.

Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Gaston Leroux. I have recently taken great interest in the case of the opera ghost. Monsieur Faure told me that you might have information regarding this case.

The Persian laughs

PERSIAN: Monsieur, I know who you are. All of Paris speaks of you. You are looking for information so as to write a story of it. Why should I help you?

LEROUX: Because you are the only one who can. You are the one man in all of Paris who was there the night the Opera House burned down. You are the only one still living.

The Persian thinks for a few moments before speaking.

PERSIAN: Have a seat Monsieur. I will tell you all I know.

Leroux sits.

I suppose if one is going to tell this story, one must tell it from the beginning. The man you know as the phantom of the opera once went by the name of Erik. I first met him when I was vacationing in Mazenderan.

Picture fades to an image of the African countryside. A man in a white mask is amusing a small girl.

PERSIAN narrating: Erik loved to make the little sultana laugh. However, the little sultana would eventually grow bored – this is when Erik's true talent came into play.

SULTANA: I am bored with these amusements. Give me a thrill.

ERIK: Very well, little sultana. Erik bows and removes from his belt a roll of rope with a noose in the end.

PERSIAN narrating: For you see, Erik knew better than anyone anywhere how to throw the Punjab lasso. He was the king of stranglers just as he was the king of so many other things.

Erik throws the lasso around a peasant man who happens to be walking past. He jerks on the rope as hard as he can, and the peasant is dead even before he reaches Erik's feet.

PERSIAN narrating: A great many innocent lives were lost at the hands of Erik's lasso. I eventually heard the rumours of this strangler, but when I went to arrest him, he had disappeared from the country entirely. The sultana herself seemed to have no recollection of him.

The screen fades back to the PERSIAN's sitting room.

LEROUX: Where did he go from there?

The PERSIAN crosses the room and stands in front of the dying fire, stoking it, and adding logs.

PERSIAN: Paris, monsieur. Paris.

Le Palais Garnier fades into view.

PERSIAN narrating: I know not how, but Erik gained entry to the opera house before it was even finished. The trap door lover worked his magic on the opera so well that not even the master architects know about all of his hiding places. I believe that I myself have only discovered but a few of them.

LEROUX, who has listened patiently, speaks at last, as the scene flashes back to the sitting room.

LEROUX: Pardon me sir, but what does any of this have to do with what occurred at the opera house?

The PERSIAN laughs heartily.

PERSIAN: My dear Leroux, it has everything to do with that occurrence! How do you think Erik managed to make his way around the opera house? By walking around in plain sight? Posh! As I was saying:

The scene flashes back to the Opera for a moment, then shows a stone cave. A man in a white mask is standing with his head leaned back, and his eyes closed, apparently listening to something. Singing can be heard from the stage a few stories above.

PERSIAN narrating: Every night, Erik would stand underneath the stage and listen to the divas singing. However, this routine changed one night; the night Christine Daae came to the opera.