Books with title PHANTOM OF THE OPERA

This work has been selected by scholars as being culturally important, and is part of the knowledge base of civilization as we know it. This work was reproduced from the original artifact, and remains as true to the original work as possible. Therefore, you will see the original copyright references, library stamps (as most of these works have been housed in our most important libraries around the world), and other notations in the work. This work is in the public domain in the United States of America, and possibly other nations. Within the United States, you may freely copy and distribute this work, as no entity (individual or corporate) has a copyright on the body of the work.As a reproduction of a historical artifact, this work may contain missing or blurred pages, poor pictures, errant marks, etc. Scholars believe, and we concur, that this work is important enough to be preserved, reproduced, and made generally available to the public. We appreciate your support of the preservation process, and thank you for being an important part of keeping this knowledge alive and relevant.

THE WORLD'S MOST HAUNTING LOVE STORY--AS YOU HAVE NEVER EXPERIENCED IT BEFORE...A cavalier vicomte--the new owner of the theatre--insists on having his own work performed, all the while being haunted by a devilish spirit.A young soprano's grief for her father's death has robbed her of her ability to sing.A world-famous tenor has been mysteriously summoned to Paris...And a shadowy figure lurks through the opera house, torn between his desire for love and beauty, and his need for a terrible revenge.EXCERPT FROM CHAPTER ELEVEN:“Mamselle, your hands are like ice,” Mercier whispered. “Please, let me help you.”“I’m all right, Mercier,” she answered. “I…I need to watch…” She let go of him and pressed herself into the curtain, her attention fixed on the stage. The stagehands were setting it with the dining table of Don Giovanni’s house, laden with wax foods. The lights came on. Musicians, Giovanni, and Leporello entered, and began their banter once more. The music became uneasy. It stirred and shifted, like a sleeping dragon.Donna Elvira appeared, making one last plea that Don Giovanni repent from his wicked ways. Giovanni refused, and Elvira turned to flee through the upstage door in tears—Screamed.Christine frowned.Tonight—that scream sounded different. She strained to see…Giovanni and Leporello argued about who could be at the door that would scare Elvira so badly. Dreadful knocks upon the wood. Leporello hid.Giovanni went to the upstage door himself. Opened it.The Commendatore stood in the doorway. Stony drapery cascading around him. A sword on his belt. His helmet gleaming in the lights. Giovanni recoiled.Mozart’s music gasped—and let out a fatal scream of its own.A chill raced down Christine’s spine. Silence.The Commendatore slowly raised an arm…But instead of pointing down at Giovanni…His finger directed the entire opera house to look to Box Five.“Don Giovanni! You invited me to dinner—and I have come!” The violins played a sinister pulse beneath the deliberate hammer-fells of that voice—that voice, without guttural resonance or sharp vibrato—only pure, fearsome penetrating tone. An instrument more perfect than mortal hands could contrive. Its power pierced to bone, filling the theatre, shaking the very floorboards. Rinaldi and Paquet—Giovanni and Leporello—looked stricken to the core. They stumbled, gaped at each other in confusion—but the music went on. So, they had to sing. And they did sing. As if a spell had been put upon them by that entrancing, terrible voice: they sang as they never had before. With his outstretched right hand, the Commendatore seemed to twist his fingers around Rinaldi and Paquet’s very souls, rending notes from their bodies like water from rags. But the Commendatore never addressed them, never pulled his dreadful gaze down from that box. And each phrase fell like a clap of thunder down upon the heads of those sitting in it.“Repent! Change your ways,For this is your last hour!Repent, villain!Repent!Yes!Yes!YES!”Suddenly, the statue flung its hand in the air, as if about to call down lightning.“Ah! Your time is finished!”And in a blaze of flame, and a billow of his cape, he vanished through the upstage door. An icy feeling of dread swallowed Christine.Rinaldi shared her foreboding. He shot anxious looks at Paquet as he continued to sing.“What strange fear now attacks my soul!Where do these fires of horror come from?” The chorus of “demons” now began to lurk onstage, their leering masks twisting and turning as they crept closer, and joined their voices:“No horror is too awful for you!There is far worse in store!”CRACK!BOOM.Christine’s head jerked up. A blinding flash overtook the ceiling. A cloud of dust exploded around the chandelier.

The lights dim at the Paris Opera House. The exquisite Christine Daae enraptures the audience with her mellifluous voice. Immediately, Raoul de Chagny falls deeply in love. But the legend of the disfigured "opera ghost" haunts the performance, and as Raoul begins his pursuit of Christine, he is pulled into the depths of the opera house, and into the depths of human emotions. Soon Raoul discovers that the ghost is real and that he wields a terrifying power over Christine--a power as unimaginable as the ghost's masked face. As Raoul and the ghost vie for Christine's love, a journey begins into the dark recesses of the human heart, where desire, vulnerability, fear, and violence unravel in a tragic confrontation.From the Paperback edition.

[This is the MP3CD audiobook format] [Read by Ralph Cosham] Throughout the twentieth-century and beyond, this haunting tale has gripped audiences the world over -- on screen, on stage, and on paper. Blackstone's thrilling narration of this classic mystery was nominated for a 2006 Audie Award. A shadow of unease; a quickening pulse; an unnamed fear breathing on the collar of those who sit alone in their dressing rooms at the great Paris Opera. An unbearable compulsion to glance quickly over a shoulder in the dark corridors to the stage would sometimes reveal a figure in evening clothes moving softly in the shadows -- a figure no one could name. Nothing is done, however, until the disappearance of the young singer Christine Daaé during her triumphant performance. With an increasing pattern of fear and violence, the Phantom of the Opera begins to strike, but always with a beautiful young performer at the center of his deadly desires. Throughout the twentieth-century and beyond, this haunting tale has gripped audiences the world over -- on screen, on stage, and on paper. Blackstone's thrilling narration of this classic mystery was nominated for a 2006 Audie Award.

The Opera ghost really existed. He was not, as was long believed, a creature of the imagination of the artists, the superstition of the managers, or a product of the absurd and impressionable brains of the young ladies of the ballet, their mothers, the box-keepers, the cloak-room attendants or the concierge. Yes, he existed in flesh and blood, although he assumed the complete appearance of a real phantom; that is to say, of a spectral shade.