literature

Il Muto: Prologue

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Il Muto Prologue by Clockspur



                                                                                    1886

“Our hearts beat in time to-day,
Our passions pure and free,
We sing and dance our love to-day,
As I give my own to thee-”

    Mary could only see so much of the stage, being so small in her seat. Yet she smiled in delight of the voice that rang out above the dancing birds and singing flowers. It was the voice that accented the play; a dedication to Saint Valentine’s Day, painted and decorated in the likeness of paper cards and stylized flowers.

    It was her mother, the theater’s diva, costumed as the white Rose. Lace glistened and shaped her dress in the center of the stage. She was the treasure of this happy garden, so of course she would be there.

“Love is a gift to those who share,
Like feathers...like perfume in the air-”

    On cue, another white creature flew in. A dancer dressed in shining feathers jumped and leaped across the stage displaying beauty and silent strength. This was the Swan, dancing gracefully around the precious flower.

    The Rose sang on:

“But can affection truly win,
Can lover’s grace prevail,
Against shame and bitterness,
Against the dark Nightingale!”

    Suddenly the pipe organ shrieked from its hiding place in the orchestra pit, signaling the arrival of the Nightingale; cold and blood-red and wicked. He was here to drive everything and everyone out of the garden until he has claimed his prize.

    But the Swan was ready. Mary could see it. She could feel the dancer’s determination, her anxiousness for the challenge. A sharp gaze shot from the eyes of the bird and to the soul of her enemy. She must not fail.

    Mary could tell: Aunt Meg was enjoying this.

Perhaps we may frighten away the ghost of so many years ago with a little illumination, gentlemen?

    "THE ANGELS WEPT TONIGHT."

For as long as anyone can remember,
the elusive Phantom of the Paris Opera House
reigned over both stagehand and patron
under a ghostly and iron fist.
Some see him as an evil spirit,
others claim him to be a gift from the heavens.
Only the silent Meg Giry
considers the Phantom to be nothing more
than a monster who plays music.

She might not be too far off.

Now he wants Christine, her best friend.
The ballet dancer must stop "O.G."
before he harms anyone else for the newest star.

But...what of the Opera's other ghost?
An invisible shade that likes to wear brown coats
and calls himself "The Doctor?"

Can he help? If so, what can he do?

A Doctor Who/The Phantom of the Opera Crossover fanfiction inspired by menslady125:iconmenslady125:
The Phantom of the Opera belongs to Gaston Leroux, musical by Andrew Webber
Doctor Who is by BBC
© 2017 - 2024 Clockspur
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menslady125's avatar
DUDE! I am HONORED!!