It was a dark night when he first came to me at my grandfather's old opera house: Ponyville Opera House and Historical Theater. He said his name was Edwin. His face was partially covered with a mask. He then taught me to sing and how to make proper opera costume. He taught me how to write songs. He taught me how to use my vocal chords to their full potential. He did everything to make me become a better pony and a better performer and I can't thank him enough for it. I love him. He's a best friend, a father, and a brother to me. He's my lover. He's the one and only Phantom of the Ponyville Opera House and this is our story.
One dark night, several years ago, I was practicing my routine at the Opera House. The singing, the dancing, the entire thing. As I was packing my bags to leave for the night, I was approached by a caped, masked figure. He asked me if I wanted to be a star and I said yes. That night, he took me down to his home below the Opera House.
"Who's the stallion behind the mask?" I asked him, but he refused to take it off. He said he was too hideous for even me to see. He then told me his story. It went a little something like this.
"Once upon a time," he began, "I was working on fixing the lights before a show and as I began to straighten one, the cord came loose and shocked me in the face. It partially froze my face, hence the half mask." He then got back to working on a new tune on his organ. I felt sympathy for him. He had had a hard time. He messed up his face at a young age. That would scar me too. I then went over to him and placed my head on his shoulder and asked him to sing me a song. That's how our relationship began to grow into what it has since become today.