a/n: This is the single weirdest thing I've ever written, but it served it's purpose: Solving my Writer's Block. Still, it's written, so in case someone out there might like it' I've posted it.
The Phantom of the Opera is owned by...oh, who knows at this point? I still give credit to Gaston Leroux.
Brilliant white light, and then –
Rain.
Erik stood, watching heavy rain fall but not being touched by it. The night was so dark he could not see past the curtain of rain. Looking around himself, he saw that he was surrounded on three sides by walls. Unusual walls, since they were clear like glass but less reflective. He was protected by the rain by a bright red roof made from the same substance as the walls, with strange bright lights fixed in it that hurt his eyes. There was what appeared to be a flag post to his left and outside of the sanctuary, except it was topped by a white sign which read 'Bus Stop' in plain black lettering.
Behind him was a wooden bench that was free of water, but with a young woman sitting on one end of it. He wanted to ask what had happened – the last thing he remembered was lying in his coffin to sleep – but she looked just as confused as he was. Small lines appeared between her thinly arched brows as she pulled them together, pressing her pale pink lips into a thin line. She looked around herself, attempted to see through the dark and the rain, and then looked up at Erik.
"Am I dead?" she asked in English, in a small voice that was strangely calm considering what she was asking. "Are you Death?"
Erik shook his head. "I am not Death," he responded in English.
"Am I dead?" she repeated, her large grey eyes filled with genuine confusion.
"Of course not. If you were, I would..." Erik paused. He looked around himself again. Everything was so strange, so unfamiliar, and he was unsure how he had arrived there. Was this death? Was this what the afterlife was really like? A small box in the middle of a rainstorm?
No, it couldn't be! He wasn't dead. He'd know if he had died. He tried to remember something happening after he'd gone to bed, perhaps pain in his chest, or an attacker...but when he tried to think back his head began to hurt and everything around him started to spin. His thoughts were clouded. All he could recall before he began to feel too sick to remember anymore was a bright white light.
Erik collapsed on the bench. "I do not know."
Once his head stopped spinning, he turned to examine his companion a little closer...and quickly turned away. She was dressed in such strange, revealing clothing! She wore pants, made of some rough dark blue material he'd never seen before. And they were almost tight enough to be stockings! She wore a white blouse, with thin sleeves and low-cut enough to reveal some sort of purple lace undergarment...
The rest he'd noticed was her fair skin, her long, thick and straight light brown hair and a purple scarf wrapped around her head. She looked to be around twenty-four, and rather pretty.
He didn't want to know what she thought of him, if she'd mistaken him for Death. Dressed in black funeral garments, a black mask on his...a mask...oh, God! He'd removed the mask before going to sleep, hadn't he? He reached his hand up to feel for it. It was there. It must have been, he felt a nose, a full mouth, cheeks, eyelashes...
Eyelashes? He attempted to see his reflection in the clear wall, but could only make out the pale reflection of a man with black hair, dark eyes and a handsome face. He reached his ungloved hand to feel the flesh on his face, and the man rose his hand at the same time. It was him! The handsome man was him! So he must be dead.
"I remember..." the girl said from behind him, so Erik turned to face her, only to see that she was looking out into the rain. "I remember being on my motorcycle...I was on my way home from the New Years Eve party. It was dark and...and then this car came from out of nowhere. But that's all I remember."
Many of these words were foreign to him. Motorcycle, car. Where was this girl from?
She turned to face him. "Do you know where we are?"
"The sign reads 'Bus Stop'."
The girl nodded. It seemed she recognized the building they stood in. "I wish I knew what this really was."
"So do I," commented Erik. "Who are you?"
"My name is Shannon. Shannon Beck."
"Are you from America?"
She nodded. "Are you from France?"
"Yes. My name is Erik."
"What do you remember?" Shannon asked.
"Just going to sleep, and then...nothing. If I try to remember anything more I feel ill."
"Me, too," commented the girl, shrugging.
They sat in silence for a while, both staring out into the rain, trying to see past it.
"I wonder what happens if we try to walk out of here," said Shannon, slowly getting to her feet, which were covered by riding boots. Erik said nothing. He watched as Shannon held her hand under the rain, and then pull back as though as were afraid of being burned. She examined her hand, but there was no scar. "I think it's safe."
Erik didn't stand. He wasn't so certain leaving was a good idea. They were there for a reason, were they not? But he watched as Shannon began walking out though the rain, and continued to watch as her slim figure disappeared. When we lost sight of her he looked around himself, feeling suddenly abandoned. He should have gone with her. It was so very...lonely, here, without someone with him. He'd go mad if he had to sit here completely alone waiting for something to happen. What if this was hell? What if he'd been condemned to sit here for eternity?
But he didn't have to wait there alone for long. Soon he saw Shannon approaching the bus stop, walking slowly with her hands in her pockets. She paused while walking towards him and frowned. Then she ran back under the roof of the building, somehow completely dry.
"Why did you turn around?" he asked.
Shannon shook her head violently. "I didn't. I was going forward and then I saw lights...and I was back here."
A loud rumbling noise came from the left. The two looked, Erik getting to his feet. A large rectangular thing approached them. It was white with large dark glass windows, with a sign at the top left corner of the windows facing them reading 'First Stop'. It shone bright white lights in front of it to illuminate it's path. It came towards them on large black wheels, rumbling and growling the whole way.
"Here comes The Bus," said Shannon. Erik watched as the thing approached and then stopped before them with a loud whine. A door swung open and a balding man in a blue uniform stood on the steps that were revealed. He was staring at a bit of parchment in his hands.
"Stop One, Shannon and Erik!" he announced and then looked down at them with a disapproving grimace. "Welcome to The Bus, I am your guide Giles. Shannon Beck of America in the year twenty-ten?"
Shannon nodded, raising a hand up in the air slightly above her head. "Here."
"You are going to Stop Three."
She dropped her hand. "I'm sorry. What is 'Stop Three'?"
"The Judgement."
"So we are dead, then?"
The balding man nodded. "Yes. You died in a crash with your motorcycle – they would have sent you back, only there was nothing left to send you back to – and..." the man looked back down at the parchment. "Erik Stendahl of France in the year eighteen-eighty-five?"
Erik nodded sharply in response. He'd never known his last name before.
"You died of a heart attack. And you will be going to the Final Stop." he sighed, closing his notebook. "Now, shall we be off?"
Shannon glanced at Erik nervously, and then back at Giles. "What is the 'Final Stop'?" she asked, for which Erik was grateful. It didn't sound very good.
Giles sighed impatiently. "Enough questions. We're off!" he turned and walked up into The Bus. Shannon followed hesitantly, and Erik followed behind her.
Inside the Bus were many small seats – almost miniature sofas – with silver bars over the tops of them. They were lined up in two rows with an aisle between them. This all seemed familiar to her. She grabbed a bar and swung around and collapsed in a seat. Erik sat in the row opposite hers. The doors closed, and the bus lurched forward. Erik grabbed onto the bar to keep from falling over. This...Bus...moved so fast! It was so strange to be moving at such high speeds, and not even on horseback.
But then it lurched again, stopping short suddenly. Neither Giles nor Shannon seemed shaken by this sudden stop, though Shannon looked much paler then before.
"Stop Three," the driver Erik hadn't noticed earlier announced. Shannon stood and began down the aisle, but Erik was suddenly filled with panic. What if this was a trick, and Erik was going to be sent to hell, all on his own? He'd died alone, he didn't want to face the afterlife alone! He grabbed her wrist so suddenly and tightly that Shannon screamed in surprise, jumping in the air. She turned and looked at him, her eyes wide and afraid, though not fear for him. Fear of what was going to happen to her once she got off the bus.
Now Erik felt ashamed. This girl was going to face her Final Judgement. And he was the one afraid.
"Do not leave me." The words escaped his lips without his even thinking them.
The girl pulled her arm free. "I have to. I'm sorry." As she turned to leave, she gave him a small smile. Erik attempted to smile back, and stared until the doors shut behind her.
Giles was still on the Bus, and as the Bus began to move again he took the seat Shannon had just left. He looked at Erik.
"Due to your...circumstances...in life, They have decided to give you one wish."
"A wish?" Erik repeated. The further the bus went, the more everything felt surreal.
"Yes. One wish to dictate the circumstances in which you return."
"I want Christine," said Erik immediately.
Giles rolled his eyes. "What do you want of her?"
Erik thought a little harder about this one. "I want to be near her."
"Are you certain this is what you want to wish for?"
"Yes."
The elderly man rubbed his hands together. "Very well."
The Bus stopped again, and Erik felt his ribs slam against the metal bar.
"This is your stop," said Giles, motioning for Erik to walk down the aisle. Erik stood slowly, nervous. He shakingly walked down the aisle, and turned to face the doors. They opened and a brilliant white light burst in, there was a loud wailing noise and –
A pretty blonde woman collapsed against her pillow, exhausted with the struggles of the last few hours. She was surrounded by midwives and doctors all talking loudly, commanding her to 'push, push', but finally it was done. She could hear a loud wailing as the doctors washed her baby, and she waited anxiously to see her child.
Finally they brought the baby, wrapped in blankets.
"It's a boy, Madame de Changy," said the midwife as she handed the baby to it's mother.
The blonde woman – Christine - smiled down at him. "He's beautiful."
THE END.
Artificial: Yeah, I'm know. Freaking weird.