Walpurgisnacht. The Phantom never discovered the connection between his music box and the Germanic version of the festival. It always happened at the striking of the midnight hour, witching hour on the witch's night. He knew always to prepare himself and would strip but for his mask. Year after year he prostrated his naked form, with rump raised before the music box. Anticipation would build in his breast, fear and desire. Then, as the cluck struck, the monkey would step down from his box and take up the spatula. Erik sighed when it came down, just once, on bared buttocks.
