Moonlit
A Phantom of the Opera Story
By by unrequited love's duet
The room was dingy, and smelled of incense while a cold florescent light made pools of blue on the cottage floor. She stood there, the wind tousling her chestnut curls into tiny waves that caused them to just lightly brush the hem of her delicate throat. The door creaked on its hinges and groaned, longing to be caressed by those hands which dangled so distractedly at her sides. A moonbeam floated down through the shudders, cruelly shoving them aside while in its want to grace her outstretched hand. It struck the window this time and gloated as her arm raised to bask in its light. Brightness wavered on her flesh, dulling slightly as she drew back and closed her little palm over the rusted window latch. It creaked softly as if to groan in pain, but as she ran her left forefinger into the crooked bend the sound ceased.
Her still-limp hand came to the little silver pendent around her neck and gently drew it from her neck. The moonbeam sparkled jealously, and tried to press underneath the necklace but she closed her palm around it. The window latch creaked once more and a warm breeze came in and caressed her face. She sighed and went outside to see what was to be seen; nothing. The sea was a blue mass of murky shadows, its chilly waters waltzing dazedly with silent steps; its depths shrouded in the mists. Slipping off one forlorn sandal off her foot and gracing the earth with its imprint, if only for a moment. Soon the jealous waters rushed in and struck the once proud sands, lapping at the earth until the mark was no more. She laughed gaily and allowed as the surf lapped at her slim ankle and along the column leading to her calves.
She lifted her head to the salty air and closed her eyes breathing in the pleasant stink. Humming softly to the tune of the gently crashing waves she let her eyes wander to the heavy storm clouds looming above her head. She wrinkled her nose in disdain as she raised a small hand to capture the sun's final rays. It obliged, warming her face and her arm to the crook of her elbow before fading into the sheaths of mist. Still she stood on the shore of the beach of Versailles, and let her eyes wander to the fog as it rolled over the now restless sea like a blanket to a squirmy child.
She sighed and laughed as she thought of her husband-to-be anxiously awaiting her to come into his arms and say their vows. "Say you'll share with me, one love, one lifetime..." she hummed smilingly as she allowed the tip of her pinkie to kiss the cold rubies that sparkled like crimson tears on the silver wedding band.
The cool air tousled her hair so that it billowed outward like a veil and reach longingly toward the sands. She yawned and settled herself down beginning to grow sleepy in the smoky shadows. To occupied her mind until she found the will to rise Christine lie down on her stomach and began to twirl little circle patterns in the sand. "Ouch..." she muttered when one of the pads of her fingers got caught on a rather spiteful rock, and snagged a drop of blood from her pale flesh.
Christine winced and muttered, "can't have that..." she murmured and crawled sluggishly towards the watery earth at the seaside edge. Dipping her hand into the water she winced as its salty skins medicated her flesh and as she turned her hands over and rubbed the backs for thoroughness she made a mistake of letting a possessive finger slide her ring onto the waters. "No..." she murmured and dove in after it making the sea rebellions at losing its gift.
For some minutes the cold and unforgiving water now battled her and pushed her under its heavy body. Again and again she went down till she was at last merely floundering and floating on its surface once more being gentle, like a well-meaning parent who has forgiven their child after discipline. She lay there on the waters and sputtered up her morning meal and afternoon tea upon a rock that she had been put against by the foaming waters. The rock, it became apparent did not appreciate this for the next moment the sea had thrust her to a rock that was not in nearly as warm.
She coughed, a horrible choking sound that made the wind seem to howl piteously in her ears and brought the last of the sun's uncovered warmth to caress her now bleeding cheek seemingly by way of apology. The waves, it would appear were now also very much repentant for they stopped thrashing and simply rocked gently. The water, was now soft and its sloshing was as calming as a lullaby, as the gentle waters lapped at her bare arms and tousled up her hem to stroke her pale feet. It soothed her so much that she let out a soft sigh and then a yawn that opened her mouth so the salty water washed out the taste of vomit from her mouth and leaving its own sweaty flavor.
She tried to spit out but when she did more water flowed into her partially open mouth, the water like a doctor giving medicine to an unwilling patient. It gave her more and more each time she spat it out, and before long she was forced to swallow. Christine's battle with the sea had left her utterly exhausted and worn. So much was she that she stopped trying to go after her ring and simply lie on the sloshing ripples and try not to close her eyes. A fruitless struggle which she soon gave up. It was only minutes before she was in a deep, nearly dead sleep and completely. The sea seemed satisfied that it had won its prize and was now content to forgive the poor girl.
It carried her gently and laid her with a kiss on the shore. There she was to lie and rest till the dawn of the next morning on the day of her wedding. She was truly a sorry sight. Drenched and too weary to do anything but sleep there and shiver with an oncoming chill. That was how he found her, cold, ill and near death. Now when I say he I mean her lover, coming home from his work with a dozen roses as crimson a red as fresh blood and a bottle of white champagne.
He came riding on his horse then, expecting to find her standing there on the doorstep with open arms like always.
Needless to say what he did find frightened and moreover shocked him. He ran to her, dropping the wine and running to her side, still clutching the roses close to his chest. When he was at her side he dropped the flowers as the wind picked up rendering one soft ruby petal from the rim of the rose. It floated upwards lightly and landed on her cheek just below her closed eyelid. Its tear-drop shape gave the appearance of her crying a bloody tear. He raised the tip of his thumb and stroked at its velvety softness. He then used it mop up the tear-streaks from beneath the shadows of her eyes. Gathering her up he pressed her close and carried her inside laying her on the bed. Pulling up a little wooden chair he took her cold hand in his pressing her knuckles in the palms of his hands, letting his tears soak her wrist.
The moon had begun to sink so that its silver glow now mingled with the orange-violet lights of the new morning sun. It fell across his porcelain mask and made it have a kind of eery, unearthly glow, the white sheen looked nearly blinding. He kissed her cheek and got up, calling for a doctor who came at once. The doctor, M. Gerard Luc was quick to do his work and came to the man and said softly, for the man was now nearly asleep in an armchair. That the young girl had nothing more than a cold and that kept warm and given her tonic twice a day, (this was done by force-feeding till she regained consciousness,) that she would recover in a week's time.
The doctor was paid for his work as well as given a shot of bandy fro his time. He was also given a little extra for the promise to inform the local Priest of the wedding's postponement with a good-bye was on his way. He sat down by his love and took up a spoon and the bottle of tonic. Pouring it into the spoon he tipped it to his own lips and took it in his mouth. Her mouth was parted slightly from the thermometer that doctor Luc had used and just like she was well and sleeping, he bent down and kissed her parted lips. As he gently parted her lips with his warm mouth he let the kiss give her the medicine. When he was sure she had taken it, he stayed there for a few more seconds, gently whispering to her of all the things they would do together.
It was a few weeks before she woke and when she did she saw him by her side. One would think that she would have been pleased, but she was actually worried. He looked absolutely haggard, his black hair was limp and clinging to the creases of his brow. His eyes were shadowed with the circles of sleep deprivation. He had tears streaks that made the grime of his mask smear to leave grimy streaks of brown. He had a thick stubble and looked as though his hair had not been combed at all. As a matter of fact, he looked absolutely awful! She tried to move...no good... she was still so weak from the good thrashing that the sea had given her when she had tried to reclaim her wedding ring. Oh god! Her wedding ring, she had lost it in the sea... her love would be so disappointed in her... or worse he might leave her!
She began to cry and muffling her sobs in a blanket did not seem to help her for her tears woke him. "Christine?" he asked and she looked at him, his green eyes was quite bright with both worry and the most profound sense of relief you could imagine, and yet they held the same blackness and pitiful emptiness that made her want to cry. Though Erik's eyes were closed they held the lightest hint of a tear pooling there. His cool hand on her cheek felt unpleasant at first but soon was the only thing she could think of and she leaned into his touch sighing softly as his forefinger brushed tenderly at her tears. His other hand followed under her chin lifting her chin to look into her eyes. "Oh Christine my love..." he murmured and rested his chin atop her head.
"Erik, darling you're shaking..." she whispered before coughing harshly. Erik shushed her and held his handkerchief to her lips to catch the spew that dribbled out on her chin. She was tired and she wanted to sleep, but Erik would not release her from his arms. So she snuggled close and rubbed his back as she felt his muscles flexing tightly. She heard his ragged breathing and wanted nothing more than to ease the beating of his heart, but she dared not look up for fear of seeing him cry. Instead she clung to him and shushed him, humming love song as best as she was able.
"Oh god, Christine.." his voice was rasping, "I almost lost you... why did you?... what were you?" he stopped once again overcome by emotion and pressed her so close to him that she had to remind him not to crush her. He loosened up enough to allow her to breathe but did not let go. She did not want him to anyway she gently pulled at his collar and lowered him on the bed beside her, gently thumbing away his relentless tears.
"Erik forgive me, my love I lost your ring in the sea... I went to get it and..." she trailed off surprised at the way he was looking at her. Had it been any other circumstance she would have laughed at his bemused and slightly exasperated expression, but now she was worried and confused as to why he looked confused.
"You nearly killed yourself... over a ring?" He asked his voice incredulous. How could his Christine be so stupid? "Or was it something else. Your old beau perhaps? Yes that's it is it not!" he turned away from her. Christine did not respond... they had already had this argument so many times it was futile. She instead in answer pulled his face to her and before he could pull away gave him a kiss.
"No my love..." she said and began to sing to him. He knew full well that she loved him for himself and that she had never ever wanted to return to Raoul. She sighed, why was he so bloody hard to convince? She bent down and kissed him and a cool and gentle moonbeam came through the window, encircling them both. His strong coppery hands formed around herb waist and his nimble fingers stroked her. She shivered and the moonlight seemed to flicker with her movements. He ended the caress slowly and pulled her into a sweet moonlit kiss.
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Fin