Paris 1905:

The sky was clear and the streets of Paris were speckled with tourists or locals who just wanted to get out in the sunshine. Children ran in the streets, venders were trying to sell everything from books to fresh baked pies, and beautiful buildings adorned the cobblestone streets looming over a man in a small car. He appreciated all of this as he passed.

Eventually the car pulled to a stop in front of the Grand Opera house. He gazed up at it remembering when it was still in business. He could still hear his voice… breathtaking.

Someone opened the car door startling him out of his stupor, his nurse Elise. Her blonde hair was down today with a purple ribbon hanging lose on the right side. She was smiling and standing by his wheel chair.

"Ready?" she asked grabbing his arm and helping him down into the wheelchair.

The man nodded blonde hair falling into his eyes. They made their way up the ramp and under a sign that read Public Auction Today! The old man barely glanced at it as he was remembering a time when he could have walked into the opera house unassisted.

The air was musty, bats flew from the rafters, and you could see the dust floating in the air. Burn marks coated the walls and cobwebs hung from the once grand chandeliers. They made their way through the halls in silence heading toward the stage.

The heard a man speaking as they drew nearer. "Sold! Your number, sir? Thank you." Elise placed him quietly off to the left, but close enough to examine the objects placed on the stage. "Lot 663, then, ladies and gentlemen: a poster for this house's production of "Hannibal" by Chalumeau."

A man came in from off to the side holding a giant poster and frame. "Showing here." He said and turned the poster so that everyone standing could see.

The auctioneer looked around the crowd and yelled, "Do I have ten francs? Five then. Five I am bid. Six, seven. Against you, sir, seven. Eight. Eight once. Selling twice. Sold, to Raoul, Vicomte de Chagny." He pounded his gravel against the podium and the poster was removed from the stage.

"Lot 664: a wooden pistol and three human skulls from the 1831 production of "Robert le Diable" by Meyerbeer. Ten francs for this. Ten, thank you. Ten francs still. Fifteen, thank you, sir. Fifteen I am bid. Going at fifteen." He slammed the gravel down again. "Sold! Your number sir?"

The man in the wheel chair looked around the room. One person met his eyes a once beautiful woman now old like himself. Elizabeta? She looked around also and when she caught his eye she looked surprise then nodded to him and looked back to the stage where they were now onto the next item. The one he had been waiting for.

"665, ladies and gentlemen; a papier-mache musical box, in the shape of a barrel-organ. Attached, the figure of a monkey in Persian robes playing the cymbals. This item, discovered in the vaults of the theatre, still in working order."

The porter came back to the front of the stage and held up the music box. "Showing here." He set the box in motion and let it play the familiar tune.

Masquerade, paper faces on parade. Masquerade, hide your face so the world will never find you…

"May I start at twenty francs? Fifteen, then? Fifteen I am bid."

A Gentleman across the room raised his hand.

"Fifteen, thank you sir!" he nodded to him. "And do I here twenty?"

Elise raised her hand after getting the green light from the man in the wheel chair.

"Twenty from you, sir. And do we have twenty five?" Elizabeta raised her hand. "Twenty five to you Madame, thank you. And do I hear thirty?"

The nurse raised her hand again.

"Thirty once. Selling twice. Sold, for thirty francs to the Vicomte de Williams."

The music box was placed in his shaking hands. He ran his fingers over the old wood and the cymbals taking it all in. "A collector's piece indeed." He mutters, half to himself, half to the box. "Every detail exactly as he said. He often spoke of you, my friend. Your velvet lining, and your figurine of lead. Will you still play, when all the rest of us are dead?"

He looked up and resumed paying attention to the auctioneer who was now gripping the podium in his excitement. "Lot 666, then: a chandelier in pieces." The people in the audience turned to look where he had pointed. A large bulky object lay covered in a dusty sheet taking over part of the room. "Some of you may recall the strange affair of the Phantom of the Opera: a mystery never fully explained. We are told ladies and gentlemen, that this is the very chandelier which figures in the famous disaster."

The man in the wheel chair recalled with perfect memory a burning building and piercing screams as the audience scrambled to get away from the burning chandelier.

"Our workshops have restored it and fitted up parts of it with wiring for the new electric light, so that we may get a hint of what it may look like when re-assembled." He paused then straightened with a faraway look in his eyes. "Perhaps we may frighten away the ghost of so many years ago with a little illumination, gentlemen?" He signaled to the men waiting in the shadows.

Suddenly the sheet was thrown aside and in an enormous flash the chandelier hit the few light beams cast into the room by the holes in the ceiling making the whole thing shine. Slowly it was raised off the ground and into the air as a team of men hulled it up to the ceiling.

The man remembered the chandelier as it once was glittering and magnificent. It towered above everyone in one blinding light. To some it was like a second sun.

Elise looked at him with a worried expression when she noticed his sudden shortness of breath. Something very close to tears shined in his eyes as he signaled for her to leave.

"Wow, that was crazy!" Elise said fanning her face. "Crazier than the time my big brother tried to keep everyone off his property by threatening them with a shot gun. Actually, maye not…" She continued to talk, but the old man shut her out lost in his own memories of a certain opera singer…