Learn To Be Lonely

[Meluivan Indil]

Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Phantom of the Opera. And I receive no monetary gain from this fiction. I also do not own the song this fic is centered around. It is owned by Sony BMG Music Entertainment.

Story Summary: This is a fic based upon a song that was added to the Phantom of the Opera Soundtrack from 2004. The song is entitled ‘Learn To Be Lonely’, and is performed by Minnie Driver. The song itself is beautiful, but very sad. I have decided to write a fic about Erik’s life based on lyrics from the song. Each chapter will be titled as a lyric from the song and center around that lyric, and will also be wrote as if being written in a journal by Erik himself.

This fic is the musings of what might have occurred in Erik’s past letting us get a glimpse into what could have made him what he turned out to be in the end. And as it progresses we see what his feelings could have been during his time in the opera house, up until and after his rejection by Christine. This story can also serve as a Prequel for my other Phantom story ‘I Sing For You Alone’, but both stories can be read on their own without the other to make sense. Just remember it is written in first person POV just as if Erik was writing it himself in a journal.



Author's Note: This Prologue will be a complete reproduction of the song lyrics. And as I said in my disclaimer this song is the property of Sony BMG Music Enterprises, and I borrow it with the utmost respect to their rights.

[glow=red,2,300]Learn To Be Lonely[/glow]

Child of the wilderness
Born into emptiness
Learn to be lonely
Learn to find your way in darkness

Who will be there for you
Comfort and care for you
Learn to be lonely
Learn to be your one companion

Ever dreamed out in the world
There are arms to hold you
You've always known
You heart was on your own

So laugh in your loneliness
Child of the wilderness
Learn to be lonely
Learn how to love
Life that is lived alone

Learn to be lonely
Life can be lived
Life can be loved, Alone



The next chapter will be the start of Erik's journal entries.

[Meluivan Indil]

Chapter 1

Child of the Wilderness

As I sit here in the gloom of night I find myself wondering about my former life with the Gypsies. They had found me at a very young age, wondering blindly through the trees in a forest I had been abandoned in. I was alone and afraid, with tears running down my face. But none of them showed me one ounce of pity or compassion. One of the gypsy women called me Child of the Wilderness, but her husband took one look at my face and named me The Devil’s Child. He would become my keeper, and the man I hated most from my childhood.

That childhood (what an ill fitting word-there was no child there) consisted primarily of days spent traveling from town to town ‘performing’ as the Devil’s Child. Had I known they wanted a true performance I would have been only too happy to oblige. But I was so young. All I knew of was the harsh cruelty of my keeper, and the indignity of watching the spectators jeer and laugh at my disfigured face. I knew of long days chained to the back of my keeper’s wagon following behind as we traveled from town to town, wearing a cloth bag over my head to keep anyone from seeing this face. I remember eating scraps from the ground with the gypsies’ dogs. I remember sleeping under that very same wagon on the cold hard ground whether it was hot or cold with only a few scraps of clothing to protect my small body. I remember times of being sick and only wishing I would die. I never did, and I sometimes wonder why God would let something as pathetic as I continue on in his world.

Life was not completely dark in those days, even if it was harsh. I had my inventions. At night whenever we were not staying in a city, I would be left alone chained by my ankle to my keeper’s wagon. The chain was always long which allowed me the freedom of some movement. After they would all go to sleep, I would sneak around the camp and find scraps of material to fashion all kinds of interesting little trinkets from. With the right materials I could copy almost anything I had seen. It did not matter to me at all, that the cruel gypsies would take whatever I made as soon as they discovered it. I remember one item in particular that was very important to me. It was the last thing I made while with the gypsies. It was a simple doll fashioned as a monkey holding cymbals. I took it with me when I left the gypsies. I have it tucked away, where it will be safe for a long time to come.

Life with the gypsies taught me one thing very important, though. It taught me to always depend upon myself. And I learned to defend myself. The night I strangled my keeper from inside my cell was a turning point in my life. I learned I was no longer that defenseless Child of the Wilderness. Maybe I was the Devil’s Child, but I was free.

The Devil’s Child

[Meluivan Indil]

Chapter 2

Born Into Emptiness

Ah, but I get ahead of myself now, don’t I? I have spoken of the gypsies, but have not yet spoken of my great emergence into this world. Cold and empty was the heart of the first woman who looked upon me in repulsion, the first person I saw upon entering this world. She decided with but one look at my face that no mother could love a monster such as I- Since she had the dubious honor of being that mother, she did not even hold pity for me, just a deep-seated contempt.

She knew she would abandon me, from the day I was born. Why it took her so long to accomplish the task I am not sure. Maybe it was guilt, considering she was a good Catholic woman, who wondered if it might be a sin to rid herself of the repulsive beast she had given birth to. But finally she did decide it was time to leave me behind.

I remember it was hot and we were traveling to our summer home. The carriage she had rented to take us there stopped outside a thick stand of trees. She asked me ever so kindly to step into the woods and find her some fresh berries that we may have a snack. For me this seemed a rare moment of acceptance on her part. I was eager to please. So very eager to please.

But as I emerged from the woods carrying the berries I had found, I found that the carriage was gone with everything I had known of my former life. I realized then that she had tricked me, and that the one moment of pleasure I had clung to so desperately became the greatest pain my heart had ever felt.

I don’t really understand why if affected me so greatly. I had never had a happy childhood. The family I was born into was a well-to-do family, and my parents had everything they could have ever dreamed of, except for a normal child. Instead of the pampered life they had meant to bestow on their precious child, they instead sentenced me to a childhood of secrecy. I was locked away in the attic, where no one would see me, and on the rare occasion that I had to leave my home, I was given my first and only present from my parents. A mask to wear, to cover these hideous features.

But my abandonment had affected me. I had always hoped against all hopes that someday my mother would see the beauty hid deep inside my soul, and then she would learn to love me. That just maybe she would be able to reach down and touch my scarred face one day, and not flinch at the touch. That maybe one day she would look at me and I would see compassion in her eyes instead of repulsion, or that never-ending emptiness that was so often present there.

But that was not to be. And that is how I came to be found by the gypsies passing by. A child of the wilderness, born into emptiness. An emptiness without Love.

Child of the Wilderness

[Meluivan Indil]

Chapter 3

Learn To Find Your Way In Darkness

Then I began my life anew, in these catacombs that I call home. My life here started in darkness, and I embraced that darkness. I was free and for the first time in complete control of my own life.

It was not hard to make my home as it is. Being accustomed to the shadows and darkness, I was able to procure many much needed items from the opera houses store rooms. And then is when my true inventions began to come to life. Without the restraints of the gypsies I was able to create this beautiful temple to my greatest love. The love of music has taken me heart, mind and soul. As I watched my first opera performed from my hiding place in the flies, it was as if I had never lived before. I had never heard music like that before. The gypsy’s music was wild and bawdy compared to the beautiful arias performed at the opera. I vowed that day to learn everything possible about the opera, and I have. I now compose my own operas here at this organ. Here in the darkness of the night, with only candlelight to see by.

But the night was my only true companion. I embraced it, and it wrapped me in its dark arms, keeping me safe from the prying eyes from above. The darkness was my ally. I hid in it, when they were too close to discovering me. I used it to collect the objects I needed to fill my home. I used it to nurture my love for music.

And to my utter amusement I started hearing whisperings of a mysterious Phantom stalking the opera’s halls. Some of the stories I overheard were completely outrageous. Some of the things they gave me credit for where quite preposterous, but they were good for a chuckle or two. Other things, I was said to have done were hideous and quite angered me. Those were the rumors that first earned my rage towards the ballet rats. I didn’t mind being accused of scaring them witless, or of taking things, but when it was said that I was accosting the young ladies, I became quite upset. Why would I, who was doing everything possible to avoid them, go out of my way to accost anyone?

That is when the true accidents began to occur. I never bothered with those that left me be, but would not abide the ones who blatantly mocked me, or those that tried to catch me, as if they ever could. That is when the true Phantom Of The Opera was born. The Phantom learned to find his way in the darkness, and the darkness is where he stalked his prey.

The Phantom Of The Opera

[Meluivan Indil]

Chapter 4

Who Will Be There For You
Comfort And Care For You

My life in the opera house was a solitary life. There was only one person who I came to depend upon. Antoinette was the person who brought me here, and she was the only person in my life who had ever showed me something other that hatred, and disgust. She was the only person to show me compassion.

I spent many evenings in this lair with her by my side. She helped me to create my temple to music. She knew this opera house well. She knew where to find the items I would need. She told me where to find food. She showed me how to survive here. And for those things I will always be grateful to her.

Then the time came when I made my mistake with Antoinette. I mistook her compassion and friendship for feelings that she did not feel. I allowed myself to dream that maybe I could be loved by a woman. Oh I was young and foolish. She was just becoming a young woman. I was still a child in her eyes. Someone she felt responsible for.

You cannot imagine the humiliation I felt when I professed my love for her, and she sat staring at me with a look of shock on her face. She said nothing for a few moments. I held my breath both anticipating and dreading her reaction. I knew what her true feelings were though, before she ever opened her mouth. The look on her face was full of pity. That look, cut to my heart like a knife. I barely heard her words about the young man she had fallen in love with.

I shut myself off from her after that. I slunk back to my lair, like a wild animal licking it’s wounds. I avoided her and all of the occupants of the opera house for so very long.

What is ironic is that Antoinette believes that the reason I drew back from her was because of the fact that she could not love me. She is very wrong in her assumption. The true reason is that one look of pity she bestowed upon me. I cannot abide pity. I don’t ever want to see that look again. Pity is for the weak. The Phantom is anything but weak.

The Phantom of the Opera

[Meluivan Indil]

Chapter 5

Learn To Be Your One Companion

For many years I spent my time alone in this my home. I learned what it was truly like to be my own companion. But I did enjoy myself. There was the opera to entertain me. I spent hours upon end watching the rehearsals and performances. And I also watched the various performers.

It seemed as if I was always looking for something. Something inside of those various performers. Maybe a kindred spirit that would be able to finally understand me. Someone just as alone as I was.

There were many performers. Leading men, pruning divas, gossiping ballet rats, but none seemed to be what I was searching for. They all seemed content to be in the world, as they knew it. They had parties. They had affairs. They had each other. And I had, me alone.

But I watched them, yearning to be one of them. Yearning to be accepted by them, by anyone. But anytime I was seen, the screams would begin. I was an apparition. I was a ghost. I was the Opera Ghost.

My anger got the best of me then, and I drew farther into myself, but I was always brought back by one thing, and one thing alone. The music was my one comfort. They would not allow me to be one of them, so I decided to use my status as Opera Ghost to my advantage. That was when the notes started. I demanded the use of box 5 and a modest salary to help supplement my needs. It was only fair. I had been there longer than most of the performers and the opera house had truly become my home. So why not demand a salary for the use of my home?

At first the management balked at my proposal, but a few well- planned accidents changed their minds.

So that is how I lived for many years. Part of the opera house, but only at a distance. I learned to be my one true companion, but always there was that yearning for more.

The Opera Ghost

[alanna]

ohhhhhhhhhhhhh this is sooooooooooooooooooooooooooo sad but i love it
LUV Alanna