AN: My first attempt at phanphiction, so try to be gentle! Most of the content is going to be from the novel instead of the play. Basically, it's the story of Erik's early life told through him, his older brother Inger, and his younger brother Sven. They're all looking back on their lives, because no matter how smart Erik may be, I don't think he remembers his birth very vividly. The narrators will be named before each section. If you have any questions, feel free to e-mail me or something. Btw, this isn't based on Susan Kay's "Phantom". I haven't even read that yet, but the order for the book should be coming in soon :). Enjoy! ~ amarafay
Cellar Boy
Chapter 1: Birth
Erik
When I was born, the world screamed in horror. When my mother first saw my face, she asked if I could be drowned, as one might say about a cat that has done much wrong in a household. Yet, unlike the cat, I know what my wrong was. I was born. Neighbors would whisper through keyholes and cracks in gates, saying that my mother was a witch and that I was the result of an encounter with Satan. Our family was shunned.
The priest came one day, in hopes that he cold destroy this living terror that was my outer being and leave behind a soft, cooing baby. The priest blessed me, bathed me in holy water, draped rosaries around me, and even attempted to exorcise a demon. I sighed softly and contentedly at the only man to ever hold me tenderly. I was dropped into my crib as the priest told my mother there was no hope. She collapsed into my father's arms and cried. The priest explained that because of my appearance, I must belong to Satan, so the bible called for me to be destroyed. Then, he said that Satan though I may be, it was still a mortal sin to kill one's own child. Any actions my parents took would lead to damnation. In fear and confusion (and so they wouldn't have anything to do with me), I was sent to live in the cellar, with spiders as companions.
In the weeks that followed, distant relatives sent me gift after gift, not knowing of my repulsive features. Of course, these gifts were meant for lovely children, not for monsters like me. All the gifts were kept (in those days it was the custom to have many children) and were given to the child to be called Sven. Only one gift was exchanged. A stroller. It was beautiful with shiny wheels and downy cushioning inside; the kind of stroller a proud mother would use to display her child. Not my mother, of course. My mother would die if I ever left the house. The stroller was exchanged for a mask. Something to cover up my hideous face. I rejected it in its extreme discomfort, as most infants would do, but my parents (if I so choose to call them that) persisted, and the mask stayed. Soon after, even the spiders fled from the cellar, and I was left alone in the dark. No one there but poor, poor Erik.
Inger
He was a monster. I did not know much then, but that was one fact that came as natural to me as breathing. My brother was a spawn of Satan, brought to earth through my poor mother.
When I caught my first glimpse of his face, I hid in my room and had nightmares for days. I could not sleep; I could not eat, not with the knowledge of the terror in my home. I was too young to behold him at the time. My mother said it would ruin my innocence. But still, I had to see who this brother Erik was, and why he must be kept in the cellar. After all, I had always wanted a brother to play with.
After sleep had overpowered my grieving parents, I crept down the hall with a small lantern crafted especially for me by my uncle. He told me it would always keep me safe. I thought that maybe, when I had outgrown this tiny children's lantern, I could present it to the new brother to keep him safe as it had done for me. How foolish I was to ignore my mother's warnings of his ugliness!
I turned a corner and opened the cellar door. The stairs creaked with my every step. I noted how dirty and musty everything was. This was no place for a baby, I thought to myself. Once I find Erik, I shall let him share a bed with me, just like real brothers do! I reassured myself proudly. My little lantern shone on a crib where a little figure was beginning to stir. I beamed proudly at the sight of the boy who I thought would follow my every move, once I taught him how to walk. I thought that his first word was destined to be Inger, after the brother whom he adored so much. Looking back at my actions now, I realize that my parents never permitted him to know the names of his "brothers". I continued to approach the crib, brushing off the yellow color of his skin.
I eagerly leaned over the rails of the crib and wailed in terror at what lay before me. It was more a living skeleton than a brother! His skin really was a sickening yellow, and his face, oh God, his face! His nose was missing entirely and his eyes were two dark circles. When, in my fright, I dropped the lantern, I could see that his eyes were golden and glowing with the fires of a thousand scorching hells! This creature was my brother! He was smiling at me. I know that he was planning to somehow posses my soul, for what else reason do demons smile other than inflicting torture upon mortals?
My parents rushed out of slumber and ran down to me. They picked me up and whisked me away into the living room, where I was badly shaking. "Why did you do this, my son?!" my father demanded. "Why did you let your curiosity overcome you and look at the most hideous face ever imagined?" Thinking that if I blamed it on curiosity I would be punished, I lied.
"He called me, daddy. I heard him calling my name in a deep voice!" I responded. It was for the better that I lied. It only caused him to be shunned farther away from our family and our world. While my mother held me to her breast, my father walked swiftly to the cellar door and bolted it shut. I was sent to bed, to lay awake with the burning image of the monster in the cellar.
Cellar Boy
Chapter 1: Birth
Erik
When I was born, the world screamed in horror. When my mother first saw my face, she asked if I could be drowned, as one might say about a cat that has done much wrong in a household. Yet, unlike the cat, I know what my wrong was. I was born. Neighbors would whisper through keyholes and cracks in gates, saying that my mother was a witch and that I was the result of an encounter with Satan. Our family was shunned.
The priest came one day, in hopes that he cold destroy this living terror that was my outer being and leave behind a soft, cooing baby. The priest blessed me, bathed me in holy water, draped rosaries around me, and even attempted to exorcise a demon. I sighed softly and contentedly at the only man to ever hold me tenderly. I was dropped into my crib as the priest told my mother there was no hope. She collapsed into my father's arms and cried. The priest explained that because of my appearance, I must belong to Satan, so the bible called for me to be destroyed. Then, he said that Satan though I may be, it was still a mortal sin to kill one's own child. Any actions my parents took would lead to damnation. In fear and confusion (and so they wouldn't have anything to do with me), I was sent to live in the cellar, with spiders as companions.
In the weeks that followed, distant relatives sent me gift after gift, not knowing of my repulsive features. Of course, these gifts were meant for lovely children, not for monsters like me. All the gifts were kept (in those days it was the custom to have many children) and were given to the child to be called Sven. Only one gift was exchanged. A stroller. It was beautiful with shiny wheels and downy cushioning inside; the kind of stroller a proud mother would use to display her child. Not my mother, of course. My mother would die if I ever left the house. The stroller was exchanged for a mask. Something to cover up my hideous face. I rejected it in its extreme discomfort, as most infants would do, but my parents (if I so choose to call them that) persisted, and the mask stayed. Soon after, even the spiders fled from the cellar, and I was left alone in the dark. No one there but poor, poor Erik.
Inger
He was a monster. I did not know much then, but that was one fact that came as natural to me as breathing. My brother was a spawn of Satan, brought to earth through my poor mother.
When I caught my first glimpse of his face, I hid in my room and had nightmares for days. I could not sleep; I could not eat, not with the knowledge of the terror in my home. I was too young to behold him at the time. My mother said it would ruin my innocence. But still, I had to see who this brother Erik was, and why he must be kept in the cellar. After all, I had always wanted a brother to play with.
After sleep had overpowered my grieving parents, I crept down the hall with a small lantern crafted especially for me by my uncle. He told me it would always keep me safe. I thought that maybe, when I had outgrown this tiny children's lantern, I could present it to the new brother to keep him safe as it had done for me. How foolish I was to ignore my mother's warnings of his ugliness!
I turned a corner and opened the cellar door. The stairs creaked with my every step. I noted how dirty and musty everything was. This was no place for a baby, I thought to myself. Once I find Erik, I shall let him share a bed with me, just like real brothers do! I reassured myself proudly. My little lantern shone on a crib where a little figure was beginning to stir. I beamed proudly at the sight of the boy who I thought would follow my every move, once I taught him how to walk. I thought that his first word was destined to be Inger, after the brother whom he adored so much. Looking back at my actions now, I realize that my parents never permitted him to know the names of his "brothers". I continued to approach the crib, brushing off the yellow color of his skin.
I eagerly leaned over the rails of the crib and wailed in terror at what lay before me. It was more a living skeleton than a brother! His skin really was a sickening yellow, and his face, oh God, his face! His nose was missing entirely and his eyes were two dark circles. When, in my fright, I dropped the lantern, I could see that his eyes were golden and glowing with the fires of a thousand scorching hells! This creature was my brother! He was smiling at me. I know that he was planning to somehow posses my soul, for what else reason do demons smile other than inflicting torture upon mortals?
My parents rushed out of slumber and ran down to me. They picked me up and whisked me away into the living room, where I was badly shaking. "Why did you do this, my son?!" my father demanded. "Why did you let your curiosity overcome you and look at the most hideous face ever imagined?" Thinking that if I blamed it on curiosity I would be punished, I lied.
"He called me, daddy. I heard him calling my name in a deep voice!" I responded. It was for the better that I lied. It only caused him to be shunned farther away from our family and our world. While my mother held me to her breast, my father walked swiftly to the cellar door and bolted it shut. I was sent to bed, to lay awake with the burning image of the monster in the cellar.