Erik, your Angel of Music had been training you for your big debut in the Paris Opera. You were the leading lady...the ingenue....And you were brilliant. Raving reviews about your acting and dancing but your sweet melodic voice was the talk of all of Paris.

You were so popular more shows were added to the schedule! Which...while exciting put a little strain on you...You're worst fears came true when you woke up one morning with a sore throat...The winter air and overuse of your voice made it sting...You were in no condition for a show...Even after taking your medicine, garggling salt water and some gentle warm ups you were hoarse...

So your understudy was to step in...or...not.

Erik left a rather threatening note to the directors, demanding the shows be cancelled for the week. Either you sang...or nobody did.

And until then he insisted you stay with him his lair under the Opera house. The moisture in the air, warmth and his company would help you he insisted...and rather soon you were in your silk nightgown laying in his fancy bed. The sheets silken, pillows fluffed the frame carved like a great swan. He's made you a special tea that's soothed your voice immensely and he's played his new Opera for you on his organ.

Now he sits at the edge of the bed, gently winding up one of his pretty music boxes for you. A little Persian monkey playing the cymbals, a soft warm tune drifting out of it as the mechanical monkey moves his cymbals together. Erik smiles and hands it to you. "There...something that will make, Mon ange smile?"