Finally! The Perfect Sequel to the Phantom of the Opera - Brought to us by Mitzi Szereto and Ashley Lister!

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.   

—Gaston Leroux

Circa 1870... “Love has never been blind. Lovers are forgiving, trusting and accepting. But only a witless fool would confuse those generosities with the idea that love is blind.” 

Christine laughed. It was a strangely melodic sound, conveying the richness of her soprano voice. Even though the room was as black as death, her merriment brightened the unlit corners and banished the gloom. For the first time, he realized he would miss her. “You’re not really that cynical, are you?” she asked. 

“I believe in love at first sight,” he replied with a grunt. “But I also believe it is often cured by a second glance.” 

She laughed again. She was a responsive audience for his weak quips; a bright flame to protect him from the darkness; a perpetual balm for the raw and bleeding wound that was his heart. And it pained him that he would have to let her go. 

“You’re just making jokes now,” she cautioned. “You’re having fun at my expense. Take off the mask and show me what you’re hiding under there.”

~~~

Phantom: The Immortal

By Mitzi Szereto

  and Ashley Lister

Let me tell you my credentials for this review... I have attended two live performances of the original Phantom of the Opera in Canada, have thus traveled down into the depths under the

Theatre where The Phantom lives, with the mist growing heavier and thicker the farther we went...and have sat directly

under the chandelier that started falling down, thrilling to the music, the story... Of course, the movie gave even a different perspective. The music haunts my heart... Thinking of the ending saddened me... Thus, I feel I am competent to know the story well enough to judge a worthy sequel to the original... For me, it presented everything I could have asked for...and more...

The more? Well, this story is a wonderful, erotic, tasteful presentation. For the review, I will covered the story since it is, really, the sequel to the original that I truly applaud... For those interested, I've prepared with permission of the authors, a continuation of the music and some excerpts as another posting... For it is the quality of the music in the presentation that makes the story great, don't you think?

Decade after decade, he had sat in his reserved box, living in the music of the operas that played in the theatre... Time had no meaning since Christine had left...why had he told her to go?! He was lost without her...And he waited, living in his secret location below the theatre, with provisions brought in by the latest friend of the one family that had supported him for so many years... How long must he wait?

Szereto and Lister takes us forward to answer The Phantom's question! The theatre staff are busily involved with the next production. This time Faust...

The introduction of Faust as the main opera in the sequel, immediately lends credibility to the sequel as worthy of acceptance. For, surely, without a continuation of the music world, the music of the night could not have continued...

It had not been long before The Phantom spotted the young ingenue who had come to audition for the part of Siebel..

The gossip meant nothing to him. He knew her name and that was enough to give fresh fuel to his hopes. “She won’t be Siebel,” he promised. “I want her to be Marguerite.” He looked away from Giry, admiring Christine’s delicate figure as she effortlessly commanded center stage and sang her way through “Faites-lui mes aveux.” Behind his inscrutable mask, his mind was already plotting ways he could secure Christine’s position as the opera’s heroine. 
~~~

She looks like his Christine...then he learns her name is also Christine! Could it be... Could it be... Christine?

Readers are not quite sure if Christine is the true Christine, reincarnated... But does it matter? This Christine is named Christine Delacroix. She, too, was a soprano and had sung in the Opera of the Phantom...

But an intriguing twist is presented that tightens the connection. She visits a sale of music memorabilia where a packet of letters written by the Christine Daae' from so long ago. Our new Christine is caught with the desire to have them--she had been one of the greatest sopranos of all time, after all. But a gentleman, Rezso, starts bidding against her... She kept bidding, knowing she didn't have the money, hoping he would stop and let her have them...

 
Surely it was fate that she should have Christine Daae's letters... and L'Opera Garnier her destiny!

She was irritated because the two had exchanged meaningful glances and she was upset that it was he who would get her letters. When he later presents them to her as a gift, she was smart enough to wonder what he wanted... But then, again, maybe she might want the same thing... A flirtation builds between these two, creating a similar but quite different conflict in this story...

But thoughts of him would come and then go, for by now she was reading Christine's letters... She hadn't known what they would be about...but she was soon entranced as she read about...them... 

Then, she was primed when she got the part, entered her dressing room to get ready and thought she'd heard him speak...

Although more than a century had passed, his senses could not resist the siren call on hearing that single name. It was a popular appellation—not uncommon among the constant stream of dancers and chorus girls who ebbed and flowed through the opera’s passages—but too many times before, he had been disappointed to find himself staring at an unworthy recipient of that resplendent title. Expecting to be disillusioned once more, promising himself he would never again be lulled by that misplaced hope, he squinted into the shadows from where she approached. She stepped beneath the glow of a naked bulb. “Christine?” he whispered. As never before, time stood still. He had a chance to admire the flawless perfection of her alabaster skin; the sultry sparkle of her deep brown eyes; and the absolute glory of her sleek, slender frame. The familiar fragrance of a Guerlain scent was suddenly so strong he could breathe nothing but its evocative perfume. She was dressed in jeans and a simple T-shirt, its light cotton fabric clinging to the supple curves of her breasts and abdomen. The denim hugged her legs and revealed narrow hips and an embraceable slender waist. For an instant, he wondered if the theater now housed two ghosts. Ready to step forward, not sure what he could say but knowing he needed to break the spell and grasp his destiny, he asked softly, “Christine? Is that you?”

~~~

Surely there are those, beside me, who wanted Christine to stay with the Phantom in The Phantom of the Opera... We knew that his face could never be so bad that we could not become accustomed and loved it as The Phantom should have been loved...

But there we are again, with two men vying for our new Christine in Phantom: The Immortal... I wished for...I wanted Christine to stay with the Phantom. Would she do the "right" think in this book?

Phantom: The Immortal prepares us sensuously and musically for love to be the dominant factor... Only when The Phantom works with Christine to prepare her for her new part as Marguerite... do we begin to see the madness, the obsession of the Phantom to ensure perfection from his Christine...for her to replace the Diva!

And will Christine be able to deal with his madness, especially since she has just met him and can only know him as the rumored opera ghost that has haunted the Theatre for so very long... Especially when Rezso sends roses after every performance and is pressing for more and more time with her, not being satisfied that she is practicing...

The twist regarding Christine's new role was exceptionally well done and fed into an exciting finale that was extraordinary... I must have been swooning at that point...😍 LOL...

This review is immediately followed by a music collection from the book to show the research, breadth of musical expertise as attributed to the sequel Opera. I believe that the story itself stands able to be accepted as a true sequel to the original. In one way, the eroticism almost detracted me from the impact of the storyline. (If you don't want to read an erotic book...don't buy this...) That is what led me to create the additional musical collection. At the same time, it will fulfill the wishes of many who had wanted more romantic involvement in the original opera... I know it is just my personal opinion when I add that the ending was...just...perfect! 

This book has been placed at the very top of my personal favorites! The combination of the music, the storyline and the eroticism makes it a recommended must-read from me for all Phantom Lovers!

Proceed to the Music Collection!

GABixlerReviews

Mitzi Szereto (mitziszereto.com) is an author and anthology editor of multi-genre fiction and non-fiction. She has her own blog of humorous essays at Errant Ramblings: Mitzi Szereto’s Weblog (mitziszereto.com/blog), and a web TV channel Mitzi TV (mitziszereto.com/tv), which covers the quirky side of London, England. Her books include Rotten Peaches (The Thelonious T. Bear Chronicles) and Normal for Norfolk (The Thelonious T. Bear Chronicles)—the cozy mystery/satire series co-authored with her sidekick bear Teddy Tedaloo; The Wilde Passions of Dorian Gray; Pride and Prejudice: Hidden Lusts; Darker Edge of Desire: Gothic Tales of Romance; Love, Lust and Zombies; Thrones of Desire: Erotic Tales of Swords, Mist and Fire; Red Velvet and Absinthe: Paranormal Erotic Romance; Getting Even: Revenge Stories; and Dying For It: Tales of Sex and Death. Mitzi has pioneered erotic writing workshops in the UK and mainland Europe, teaching from the Cheltenham Festival of Literature to the Greek islands, as well as lecturing in creative writing at several British universities. Her anthology Erotic Travel Tales 2 is the first anthology of erotica to feature a Fellow of the Royal Society of Literature.   

Ashley Lister (ashleylister.co.uk) is a prolific writer, having written more than two dozen full-length novels and over a hundred short stories. His most recent titles include the Sweet Temptation series from HarperCollins and the horror novel Raven and Skull, which is now available. Aside from regularly blogging about writing, Ashley is also an occasional performance poet and teaches creative writing. He has hosted creative writing workshops at Eroticon, the annual conference for sex bloggers and erotica writers, and is the editor of Coming Together in Verse, a charity anthology of erotic poetry. Ashley is currently studying for a PhD in creative writing, focusing on short fiction. He lives in Lancashire in the UK.  He lives in Lancashire in the UK. Visit his blog ashleylisterauthor.blogspot.co.uk.

The Music Collection from Phantom: The Immortal!

Read the Review First!


I'm sure you all realize by now that when a book includes music, I enjoy learning about the selections that have been mentioned and referred to as the story goes along. For instance, in Phantom: The Immortal, we follow the main character from the Phantom of the Opera moves forward in time when a new Christine is discovered. She is auditioning for a part in Faust...

The Phantom believes she is his

Christine and when this new Christine says, "I wish you'd spoken to me, Angel," Christine whispered. "I would dearly have loved to hear your instruction. I would have obeyed every command you gave to me," the Phantom begins almost immediately to train her...

My collection begins with the music that came to mind as the original book was presented in some way...Some selections were chosen by me for this part...

But in the darkness, without the distraction of her physical beauty, he was able to hear the sweet melody of every quavering sigh. It reminded him of the legato leitmotifs from Wagnerian operas. He was her Tristan and she was his Isolde. He quietly cursed himself for entertaining that thought. Despite their exquisite love, Tristan und Isolde was not a romance that ended joyously. And, although he knew this evening would not conclude with a happily-ever-after, he didn’t want reminding that their relationship was coming to a sorry conclusion.

Desperate for that release, and mortified by the knowledge that it would bring an end to their time together, he stole his pleasure from every second of their union. His shaft slipped slowly in and out. The fluid friction was the most delicious sensation he could imagine. Her heated sex drank noisily from him. The operatic music of their lovemaking quickly built to a crescendo. And then his pleasure exploded. Christine screamed into the blackness. Her muscles gripped him so tight he couldn’t breathe. His length pulsed and twitched in an agony of ecstasy. And every glorious sensation he had ever enjoyed was diminished by the magnificence of their shared climax. Sobbing, laughing and swooning, Christine called out his name as the consciousness trailed from her voice. 

This is why Monsieur Moncharmin, the new manager, is eager to have her name associated with L’Opera Garnier.” He spoke quickly, the gaiety of his natural falsetto trembling as though he didn’t like to impart such upsetting information. Nervously, he fumbled with the silk cravat around his throat. His painted nails shone pink in the faint rays that reached their box from the stage. “I’ve already measured her for her costumes,” he said sadly. “Her ensemble for the first two acts is sitting in her dressing room and has been tailored to perfection. La Diva Carla is this year’s soprano and she will be this season’s Marguerite.” Slumping heavily in his seat, the masked figure sighed.

But as soon as The Phantom saw Christine, he wanted her to play Marguerite...

“Christine. Follow me, Christine. Come this way, s’il vous plait.” He turned to see who was being addressed. Although more than a century had passed, his senses could not resist the siren call on hearing that single name. It was a popular appellation—not uncommon among the constant stream of dancers and chorus girls who ebbed and flowed through the opera’s passages—but too many times before, he had been disappointed to find himself staring at an unworthy recipient of that resplendent title. Expecting to be disillusioned once more, promising himself he would never again be lulled by that misplaced hope, he squinted into the shadows from where she approached. She stepped beneath the glow of a naked bulb. “Christine?” he whispered. As never before, time stood still.

“Christine? Is that you?” Even as he spoke, he realized he had said the words too quietly for her to hear. The assistant floor manager ushered her toward a battered door set in a bare brick wall. “Use this dressing room to freshen up, Christine. Onstage in five...
“Angel,” Christine whispered. “Are you there, Angel?” He recoiled from the mirror as though he had been struck. Instinctively, one hand went to cover his face. He didn’t know if he made the gesture to protect himself, or if the reaction was for the benefit of those with nervous dispositions who might see him unmasked. Whatever the reason, he knew the response was now an ingrained habit that he would never break.
“Sing for me,” he murmured. He wasn’t even aware that the words were being said aloud. Seeing her again, it was automatic to give the familiar command. He tempered the volume of his tone through a latent fear that she might actually hear him. But that apprehension wasn’t enough to stop him from repeating the instruction. “Sing for me, Christine.”
Holding his breath, he closed his eyes. He was momentarily unable to bear the pain of seeing her before him. He wanted to remain in the dark, away from the torturous thoughts of what could have been, free from the haunting image of his Christine returned. Common sense told him he ought to creep away now while he still remained undiscovered and unhurt. Acting on the impulse, he took the first tentative step toward the exit, ready to give up on this Christine as his original love had given up on him. And then she began to sing. “Faites-lui mes aveux…” He instantly recognized the opening line of Siebel’s confession. Clenching his teeth together, petrified he would inadvertently make some exclamation, he listened and knew in an instant: this was his Christine reborn. He had last seen Christine in this theater when she was singing Faust. Now, this identical beauty—calling for her Angel and regaling him with Siebel’s confession—could not be dismissed as mere coincidence. The belief that fate had conspired to give him a second chance made his heart race with hope and anticipation. Mesmerized, he stared out through the mirror and listened to the way she brought the aria to life.

Christine starts reading the letters...


She felt a pulsing between her thighs as she remembered the words on the aging parchment. By now, she could recite them by heart.   "My Angel of Music has placed lamps and candles everywhere, yet there is such terrible darkness in this place. Perhaps the darkness lies in his soul. How I wish I could banish it, for I know there is lightness in his heart. I see it when he looks at me. The eyes behind his mask spark and glisten like emeralds on fire, contrasting with the blackness of his hair. Sing for me, Christine! he cries. And I sing “Un bouquet… Ah! Je ris de me voir,” which by rights belongs to Marguerite. To La Carlotta.

And then it is the opening night...in Christine's dressing room...

Closing her eyes, she concentrated, gearing up for the moment when she’d take the stage. The walls of her dressing room seemed to hum, vibrate. There was a power at work here, something otherworldly and she shivered, her flesh erupting with tiny bumps. She ran her fingers through her long hair, down the sides of her neck, over her nipples, her skin rippling with another course of gooseflesh. Although the room was heated, a cold draft was leaking in from somewhere. It smelled of damp leaves and a hint of something woodsy, sandalwood perhaps. She remained still, listening. Waiting. The sound of her excited breaths filled the room. Her aural capabilities sharpened as she imagined she could hear the long-ago sighs of the young woman who had once stood here, also waiting to go onstage as Siebel. “Christine…” Her eyelids flew open. Instinctively she reached up to cover her breasts as she whirled around to look behind her. There was no one in the room. There was no one but her near-naked image in the mirror. She turned back to offer her reflection a wan smile, as if admitting to it her silliness. Then she heard the voice again, barely a whisper. “Do you still love me, Christine?”




Seeing and hearing her audition for Faust, he agreed to work with her...under his strict conditions...


Obediently, she began an aria, displaying a marvelous tone and range. Giving herself completely to each role, assuming a different persona with every different aria, Christine stunned him with her talent. He watched in awe as she placed a hand against her breast while singing from La Traviata,

and he could easily have believed she was an ailing and lovelorn courtesan. Performing “Un bel dì vedremo” from Madame Butterfly, she impressed him as vulnerable, proud and passionate. Her fingers stole against her body as she sang. He suspected the movements were involuntary: a subconscious response to the emotions and tragedies of each song.




During her rendition of “Qual fiamma avea nel guardo!”—Nedda’s secret thoughts from I Pagliacci, Christine imbued her performance with the sultry vigor of a Gypsy siren. Her hips swayed, the movement subtle at first and then increasing to something urgent and powerful. Awed by her casual dance, he decided she would use the same motion during her lovemaking.
...The image left him weak and frustrated and he quickly changed the tempo and had her sing as Rigoletto’s Gilda.







Christine did everything he asked. She gave him a creditable Tosca, an impassioned Violetta Valéry, and a heart-rending Mimi. He only stopped her lesson because he was uneasy with the thought that each of the characters she sang was made famous for their tragic deaths. A prickle of gooseflesh covered the backs of his hands. In the dim light that filtered through to his hidden corridor, he could make out the eyeless stare of the death’s-head ring that adorned the little finger of his right hand. He was struck by the realization that fate had a nasty way of forewarning its intentions. The thought left him ill with worry...

“You are now Marguerite,” he told her. 
“But…” 
Not allowing her the chance to argue, plucking out the theme for “Il se fait tard! Adieu!” he brought the violin to life and sang Faust’s introduction to the duet. It had been a while since he last performed an aria and he was pleased with the intonation he brought to the piece. It helped that he was able to sing of his love for Christine because that allowed him to invest honest emotion into the piece...




The Phantome sees Rezso in Christine's dressing room and is enraged

The man’s name and title were as Hungarian as every rhapsody ever written by Liszt. His oily charm and guttural accent described him as being as Hungarian as goulash. A sneer of contempt brushed his upper lip and he could feel the maddening itch begin anew in the damaged flesh of his face. Christine in the arms of another man was an unbearable sight. But, because she was in the arms of a Hungarian—a nationality he had good reason to despise—he didn’t trust himself to contain his temper...


The love duet between Marguerite and Faust. She’d sung it for him in her dressing room and had made a fair enough job of it. Now she wanted only to sleep. Her mind couldn’t conjure up the melody, the lyric. Nevertheless, she opened her mouth, hoping what came out would please him. It did not. “No! Start again!” Christine reeled her mind backward like a spool of film, trying to pick up the thread...


“Christine!” he called impatiently from the drawing room. She hurried out to take her place before him, awaiting her cue. “I wish for you to sing ‘Un bouquet… Ah! Je ris de me voir,’” he demanded. The features on the exposed portion of his face looked strained. He had been acting differently ever since she’d first mentioned Rezso’s name.






The final act. “Walpurgis Night.” Christine was now onstage with the chorus, all of whom were costumed as witches. The irony that they all had to wear masks didn’t escape her as her eyes swept through the audience again and again, trying to locate a white domino. She felt relief that the performance would soon be over. All she wanted was to go home to her little apartment, pull the bed covers over her head, and sleep a dreamless sleep. She didn’t want to be haunted by men in masks or blue-eyed foreigners with protestations of love.



This was the last music from Faust, the Original

This was the last music from The Original Phantom of the Opera...



How Did the Phantom: The Immortal 
End???

A Major Reason 
I did this is to show the outstanding sequel
as presented in the book,
Phantom: The Immortal.
This book may be erotically presented,
but, in my opinion, it stands ready and able
to be the official sequel to
The Phantom of the Opera!
With or without the total erotic presentations...
~~~