Christine sat in her bed that night, thinking thoughts that were causing her fright. Was he real? The Angel of Music? Did he exist? Was he just living in her mind?

"I must be going insane," she thought to herself. But then-he had felt so real. More real than life it's self. She was drawn to him. He was a dark mysterious creature. Terrifying, but tantalizing at the same time. How she longed to pull away his mask and see what he had hidden behind it. Then continue to see what other treasures were buried in that ravenous soul.

She breathed into her pillow, trying to feel his presence. She gave up after a minute, blew out her solitary candle, and slowly closed her eyes. Though her eyes were shut, disappointment kept her from sleeping. Suddenly her eyes shot open. He was here. She felt him like one feels the frost of winter. A pleasant tingling feeling upon the skin, followed by a rush of angry cold air.

"Good night Christine," she heard him whisper.