The Disciples of the Night

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It seems we’re in a quandary. Truthfully, I have no idea what Christine wrote on those four pages. At this point in Leroux’s story her loyalties are torn – my personal guess? She petitioned her dead father for advice, but I’m not so sure. So…I declare that all the entries have valid reasoning and they are all winners. Congratulations to all of you for braving the Internet with your thoughts!

Etienne de Mendes


ENTRY # 6 FROM: Jo-ann McMahon

In my weak and sorrowful heart I long for the tenderness and undeniable love that could grow between Monsieur Raoul and I. I continually see and feel his presence. He is very real and so alive. My mind remembers the touch of his hands caressing mine as he looks into my eyes to assure me of his presence, his love, and his commitment to share together our unspoken feelings. We will always be together through the mystical thread of life...physically apart yet always together. Your love will always fill my heart and my love will live with you forever in my mind.

In my deep and lost soul, I long for the voice of my angel. I dutifully listen in my head for the sounds of his next arrival. The air resounds with the melodic notes that his appearance shall be soon before me. I am consumed with this master of music and I long to feel his presence. Music floats around him and consumes the air and my whole being is filled with want...for him. I no longer fear this demon of melody, but long only for his touch and his love and his life. My passion lives here.

All those that read this will know what resides in my heart and my soul. Forgive us all and forget nothing my friends. We have become what we feel and know.
Christine Daae


ENTRY # 5 FROM: Johnnie's Angel

My dearest Raoul,
It is with a heavy heart and deep regret that I must leave you. I can no longer deny my feelings for Erik, my beloved Angel of Music and teacher. I am going to live with him as his living bride; you will not see me again. Please, for your own safety, do not try to find me. I’m sorry that in my attempts to deny my love for Erik, I led you on. I cherish my memories of our childhood friendship, and love you as a brother, but I was never in love with you, although I tried to convince myself that I was. I truly regret any pain that my deceit has caused you. It was not my intention to give you false hope that we could be together. It is my prayer that you can find it in your heart to forgive me. Someday you will find love with someone who will return your feelings, then perhaps you will understand why I do what I do.
Think of me fondly,
Your friend,


ENTRY # 4 FROM: Joel in San Francisco

Christine may appear to write calmly and confidently, but internally she’s in turmoil. She’s the victim of a stalker’s cruel obsession, and the man is no angel. Tearing off the deceiver’s mask revealed a shocking horror. Woe and calamity, his distorted face is forever etched within her mind! No amount of prayer or repentance will wash away the experience of the tirade birthed of his anger and shame. He’s capable of monstrous rage. A demon. His insidious and unceasing control leaves her empty, drained of peace. She’s trapped. The beast says he loves her. Over and over he begs to let his love come into her heart that it might ignite similar feelings within her. He cries like an incessant child, whimpering that if he cannot have her there will be consequences beyond his control. The hours of coercion heaped upon her teach her one thing, there will be no escape from the Opera Ghost. His voice, his music invades her mind all hours of the day and night. He shadows her steps, knows her movements. Now he has demanded she write a list, naming the criteria that will permit her to establish a life with him. In return he vows endless love and the faithful companionship of a reliable husband. She has but one bargaining chip. The affections of Raoul de Chagny might provide a release, but at what cost? Can a girl without status or funds play on a stranger’s sympathies for assistance? She composes a letter to each man. Erik shall have his criteria. Never hurt or abandon her, protect her from all harm. Provide for their children and for her person. She copies a similar list for Raoul and adds a vow to love him with her heart and the warmth of her physical body.

ENTRY # 3 FROM: Steven Pentecost

Dear Raoul,
I write this letter to you only out of necessity. You see Dear, I am becoming quite uncomfortable with your peering at me from the back of my dressing room. It would not be so terrible, if you could only be more modest in your approach. It is the little things that would make a great difference. Pull your shoes in, tighten your cummerbund when behind the drapery and for Heavens sake do not partake of dishes containing any variety of beans. All of these tattles betray you terribly I am afraid. I must close this letter now for I hear someone approaching that I must meet. Before I go though, I should mention that Carlotta has much more space and I've also heard she lost her sense of smell as a child. Besides, she would probably adore the attention. Food for thought Dear.
Yours, Not So Truly

ENTRY # 2 FROM: Julie in Texas

Dear Heavenly Provider,
Everyone knows that Le Pere Noel doesn’t exist, so I’m turning to you. This predicament you placed me in really sucks. The Angel of Music, though extremely talented, is an insanely jealous, hideously deformed renegade living in the deepest basements of the opera house! Who knew? Certainly not yours truly. Since you comprehend everything and can see the future, couldn’t you have requested someone a little less vindictive to instruct me? Like maybe the Angel of Music’s first assistant? Who is really in charge up in your realm? Isn’t it enough that I was orphaned at a tender young age, that I have no sponsors to assist with finances, and must wear diabolical corsets that cut off what precious air I can get into my lungs? I know I must sound ungrateful. Truthfully, I’m more taxed than angry. Maybe music students up where you live can stomach these day and night dictates rattled off from behind mirrors and through walls. My nerves are shot. Please have your representative, aka Erik the Rambunctious, replaced as soon as possible. I’ve enclosed a few thoughts that might help you chose a substitute. This is an urgent matter. Your man is on his way to pick me up right now! He’ll arrive at any moment and I’m far from resigned to this state of affairs. View the list and get back to me as soon as possible. Tall, good looking, and romantic are my top three criteria. A fortune in his pocket would be nice, too. If you don’t assist me, I’ll take matters into my own hands and petition Raoul de Chagny’s for sympathy and support. Since you invented clairvoyance you know I’m capable of such a play, so help a girl out, all right?
C.D. down in Paris


ENTRY # 1 FROM: Natalie in Wisconsin

To the Managers of the Paris Opera House
Messieurs Armand Moncharmin and Firmin Richard,
As honorable men I place within your hands my last will and testament. Though I have no witness to bear testament to its validity, see by my handwriting that these words were indeed penned by me. Should it come to pass that I disappear and fail to return to the stage of our grand theater, I want you to assume that for all intents and purposes, I am dead to this world. By all that is holy I entreat you not to look for my body. I fear the Angel of Death stands at the door to spirit my earthly remains to the Netherworld. Such is to be my punishment for cruelly toying with the hearts of two men. One has been my voice coach, the unseen but talented maestro who brought about such a splendid transformation in my vocal performance. The second is the Viscount Raoul de Chagny, a childhood playmate, a friend who I fear is infatuated enough to offer this poor orphaned girl the status of noble rank within his household. Please do not think ill of me. In Hell I should cry a thousand tears to know my gentle heart and good intentions branded me as petulant. Surrender all my worldly possessions, (such as they are), to the Sisters of Charity for distribution among the poor. Except for my father’s violin. Place this cherished instrument in Box 5 as a gift to the Opera Ghost. Perhaps its wondrous notes shall appease him for a month or two. Enclosed you will find my farewell letters to Mama Valerius, the aforementioned Viscount, and the ever patient Madame Giry. All blessings to you good Messieurs. I wish you success in your endeavors.
Christine Daae



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