Author's note: this is for an English assignment, I had to write something
with imagery, and not with dialogue. This is more of a descriptive
assignment. I'm not really a writer, just someone who enjoys writing phan
phic here and there, and tries to incorporate it into the unyielding tasks
given my English class. Please review! You can tell me it is horrible, or
it is wonderful, either will be helpful, but please leave something
constructive that I can work with. Thanks for taking the time to help out
and read my phic!
They both ran to the roof. Both terrified but relieved to escape the chaos that they had escaped from below. Shrieks of terror emitted from all corners of the mammoth building as the glittering giant that lit the house came crashing down. At first no one knew who to blame, but soon enough it came back to the ghost. It was his fault that the glamorous gold ball of light fell into the orchestra stalls. Two lone figures now stood on the roof trying to make coherent sense of what they had just witnessed. The young couple stood towards the edge of the roof, looking down on the quite streets that had no inclination of the chaos inside. The young women who stood there with a fathomless depth to her gaze related a tale to her escort. She spoke of genius, of darkness, and of fear. She spoke of an angel but also of a devil. She wove a tale so beautifully that it belonged in a manuscript rather than emitting from her throat. Her escort stood in confused bewilderment until he learned that all of these things, this angel and this devil that she spoke of existed in one man. She revealed the true identity of the one responsible for the chandelier. She told of him, the opera ghost, Erik. Now a small sound was heard high above the two of them. It was a sorrowful sound, one that had such longing to it, yet was filled with despair. The color in the woman's face drained. She grew pale and very nervous. Not sure of what happened, her young Vicomte that stood beside turned in concern. Obviously he had not heard the noise, but searched around the roof to ease her fears. After his search found nothing, he returned to her side and whispered words of love to her. Outwardly she accepted them, but inside she was tormented with emotion. Is this where her heart lied? She thought of all the fond memories that she had of picnics in the attic, and the stories with her father by the fire. Was he the one who claimed her memories also now the one who claimed her heart? What about her poor unhappy Erik? Could she leave without a word, without a backward glace? She was now at the threshold between two who claimed her affections. So many questions whirled in her mind, yet they would have to remain unanswered for now. It was now time to return to the chaotic world above, and put on a mask that told everyone that she was fine, and that she was ready to perform. No one would know that inside a raging fire burned of passions, but for whom? That was the constant question.
They both ran to the roof. Both terrified but relieved to escape the chaos that they had escaped from below. Shrieks of terror emitted from all corners of the mammoth building as the glittering giant that lit the house came crashing down. At first no one knew who to blame, but soon enough it came back to the ghost. It was his fault that the glamorous gold ball of light fell into the orchestra stalls. Two lone figures now stood on the roof trying to make coherent sense of what they had just witnessed. The young couple stood towards the edge of the roof, looking down on the quite streets that had no inclination of the chaos inside. The young women who stood there with a fathomless depth to her gaze related a tale to her escort. She spoke of genius, of darkness, and of fear. She spoke of an angel but also of a devil. She wove a tale so beautifully that it belonged in a manuscript rather than emitting from her throat. Her escort stood in confused bewilderment until he learned that all of these things, this angel and this devil that she spoke of existed in one man. She revealed the true identity of the one responsible for the chandelier. She told of him, the opera ghost, Erik. Now a small sound was heard high above the two of them. It was a sorrowful sound, one that had such longing to it, yet was filled with despair. The color in the woman's face drained. She grew pale and very nervous. Not sure of what happened, her young Vicomte that stood beside turned in concern. Obviously he had not heard the noise, but searched around the roof to ease her fears. After his search found nothing, he returned to her side and whispered words of love to her. Outwardly she accepted them, but inside she was tormented with emotion. Is this where her heart lied? She thought of all the fond memories that she had of picnics in the attic, and the stories with her father by the fire. Was he the one who claimed her memories also now the one who claimed her heart? What about her poor unhappy Erik? Could she leave without a word, without a backward glace? She was now at the threshold between two who claimed her affections. So many questions whirled in her mind, yet they would have to remain unanswered for now. It was now time to return to the chaotic world above, and put on a mask that told everyone that she was fine, and that she was ready to perform. No one would know that inside a raging fire burned of passions, but for whom? That was the constant question.