This is the very first story I remember I published on Erika Fanfiction Planet in april 2015: I’m translating or, better, rewriting it in English just to share it with a bigger potential public, even if it’s a simple tribute to one of my favourite film – The Phantom of the Opera, based on the novel “Le Fantôme de l’Opera”, written by Gaston Leroux in 1910. The French writer built up a romantic fiction creating a true legend around the Opéra Populaire: an immortal myth I’m bringing back to life.


Arielle entered the room holding her breath, swiftly reaching the piano in the corner. She was almost sure she was alone, surrounded by nothing but painted walls and empty chairs: the sound of her steps echoing was her only companion, even if…
«Is there anyone?»
A weird sensation was teasing her, but she decided to ignore it. The rehearsal room was definitely empty, apart from the figures engraved on the ceiling and her shadow on the ground, silently listening. She raised her voice and began to sing, closing her eyes and letting the melody flow free from her chest, fears flying far away along with the notes of the song. 

«Think of me, think of me fondly
when we’ve said goodbye…
Remember me, once in a while,
please promise me you’ll try…»

She paused, crossing her arms on her heart, a smile of joy on her face:

«When you find that, once again, you long to take your heart back and be free… If you ever find a moment, spare a thought for me…»

That song and its meaning filled up the air, which was suddenly trembling with emotions: the song was about two lovers who were separated by a cruel fate, it was about the hope of a reunion, of a different future. She felt love in her veins, and when she concluded the exhibition, the last note vanishing from her throat, she immediately felt like something – or someone – was missing, a memory or a dream she could not grasp. It lasted a brief moment: then, burdened by that strong sense of void, she kneeled next to the piano, holding the wooden edge of the instrument while catching her breath. She felt weak and lonely, again lost in sadness, when a voice reached her ears in a soft whisper: «Brava, brava, bravissima»<brava, bravissima…=”””” brava,=””””>.
Startled, she stood up and tried to figure out from which croner of the room the sound came, without success. She only saw, in the distance, a quick glimpse of a silky mantle leaving from one of the side-doors, but it was so quick that she thought she could have imagined it.
“Stop believing in fables, girl”, she thought, leaving the room right after.</brava,>

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