Hello everyone! Wow, I've been gone from the POTO scene for quite a while haven't I? Well, right now the LXG is my favorite area, so I'm just revisiting this one. Anyway, I've realized something on looking back at my past writings in this section. That something is that they are all actually rather bad except for perhaps one of them? I suppose that is because I was just beginning to write then, but that's really no excuse is it? I've also noticed that most of the stories/ writers I thought were wonderful, really are less than so. Hmmm. Lol, well anyway, here is my newest addition to this area, please R&R and even flame if you'd like to. I'm a pyromaniac anyway, besides, I could use some fire to cook some smores ^_^
DISCLAIMER: I own nothing. I'm not even old enough to have a job yet lol. Heck I don't even own myself, my cat does.
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"Love is a fire, but whether it will warm your hearth or burn down your house, you never can tell."
-Anonymous
I've missed your presence from the very minute you turned away. I've barely left my house; nothing seems worth it anymore. Hunger, thirst, tiredness, these all have no effect on me. I am already dead inside, where this body drops and rots is of no matter now. I would gladly die just to rid myself of the pain that comes with every lonely breath that I take. You have no idea how badly I regret buying a bed for my room. I did it for you; if you remember, my coffin used to terrify you. How I wish now that I had kept it. Every time I try to sleep I am overwhelmed by how cold my room and everything in it seems. This bed is far too cold for one and I am drowning in my self-made sea of loneliness. Even though you never slept in the same room as me, the house never seemed this empty as long as I knew you were somewhere inside it. I can only imagine what I have done to you, my angel. Everything I touch withers and dies; it is like I am a plague that was set upon mankind for their cruelty.
I did not come to this world to feel this way! I came to create, I came to love…the second will always be denied to me. The first, well, my mind may be able to touch the farthest horizons of human limitations, my hands may be able to make and shape anything, but as long as I live; in fact even after I'm long departed from this spiteful world, no one will know of my genius. Only the few unfortunate souls whose lives I've tainted and whose souls I've twisted will ever know what I could have been capable of if I had looked like a normal man. If only I could have been loved…just once, my entire life would have been different. I do believe that if you stayed with me, if you were still my angel, then I would have lived the rest of my life in bliss.
You truly don't know what a simple touch from you could do to me. Even an accidental one could give me a greater rush of pleasure than any passionate score from my Don Juan Triumphant. When you finally kissed me, I was in Heaven and I was floating among the clouds. I never believed that it was really a place, but your kiss was the sweet ambrosia of the gods that I needed to renew my faith. I know you only did it to free you Vicomte lover, and yet a part of me wants to say that you felt at least some of the fire, some of the passion that I felt in that kiss. For one brief moment I was happier than Eros, for not even the god of love could have felt my bliss when he was wed to Psyche.
That was the best and worst moment of my life. You were able to break the shackles made of the links of hate, pain, and fear that had kept me in Hell and chained from the world for so long. Yet at the same time, it made me realize that I could never see your beautiful face again except for in my dreams. For with that kiss came your freedom; I knew that with that one final, desperate attempt to love me I had to set you free. You were like a dove…gentle, lovely; the embodiment of what one would sacrifice for love. And yet, as a dove, I knew you would surely wither and die were you to stay forever under the earth with me.
I am still thoroughly confused on one simple matter however. Who did you actually love? Was it the Vicomte, or could it perhaps have been me? My pulse is quickening and my heart is lodging itself in my throat merely at the possibility. Oh, I wonder what the Khanum would say if she could see me now. Imagine: her Angel of Doom, the terror of the Persian courts, lying on the floor of his underground lair crying in pain and sighing in bliss over a woman. Not only has he finally built his own realm in which he can live separately from the nightmare normal people call reality, but also it seems as if the dreaded Angel of Death has finally fallen in love.
I can see her laughing in disbelief at me. I suppose I cannot blame her. The part of me that still managed to stay hardened and cold is mocking the weaker part of me. I truly must be the greatest case of split personalities to walk this earth. One side of me wants to inflict pain and torture upon anyone who ever dared to look at me strangely while the other side simply wants you to be here, holding me and whispering sweet confessions of love into my ear. I used to be able to control my emotions; my mask was my barrier against everything the world could throw at me…at least it was until you danced your way into my life. Your song captivated me the very first time that I heard you. I never gave up my fascination with it either.
To tell you the truth, I believe that my true obsession with you started when I laid eyes upon you. You were so beautiful, and yet I was afraid of you. You were the apple in my self-made Garden of Eden. I knew that the moment I tried to take part in the pleasures off normal men my world would be ripped from beneath my feet and everything I had strived so hard to create would crumble around my ears. You looked just like her…the only other woman I ever loved. She always rebuked my love however. Yet that made her all the more special to me, for I knew that when the day finally came when she would look on my bare face without disgust would be the day that I became the good, obedient child we had always wanted me to be.
That was our curse however; she would never love the abomination that called itself her child. Because of this, I never allowed myself to tell her how I felt; I knew I had brought her enough pain already. She had wanted a son to remind her of her late husband. Well, she received one, although I was nothing like she hoped I would be. Had I been a normal child, instead of a creature of the night, I could have made her proud with my music. But instead I frightened her, just like I frightened you, with it. She thought of me as a demon come to torture her for some past sins. She was always a very devout Catholic, believed a little too fully if my opinion may be made. But what does the Devil's apprentice know of holy things?
Tell me Christine; did you really believe me when I said I was your Angel of Music? I must say that I was, am, truly surprised by your naivety. Even little Meg and the Vicomte knew that it was all a myth, a clever ploy to lure you into trusting me so that I could be with you for periods of time. That truly was all I wanted from you, for you to hold me, kiss me, talk to me as you do to Raoul. I was green with envy and mad with jealousy, I have no qualms about admitting it. I realize now that the two of us were never really meant to be, at least not in this life. I hope that he, my nemesis, my rival, your lover, Raoul takes good care of you. I know he will make a good husband for you, I only wish it didn't hurt so much. He loves you, never as much as I could, but he does love you more than life itself. He may be a bit foolhardy, but he is noble, and I…I am happy for you. The pain inside of me will never fade away, I will even continue to suffer in the afterlife, but at least I can die knowing that you will be together again in another life. I will wait patiently and breathlessly until that day…I shall never love another my light, my love, my life.
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Well there you have it. Inspiration for this hit me while I was bored out of my mind in Careers class. Pointless class with a psychotic teacher, but it's strangely the place my muses love the most. *shrugs* Anyway, this idea may have been done before, I have no idea. As you can tell, I am really not part of the Raoul/Erik wars anymore. Upon rereading both books, I've realized Raoul really isn't that bad. Well, I hope you enjoyed this, please review (or flame) on your way out.