Disclaimer: Nothing you recognize belongs to me.

Happy Halloween!! This came out of nowhere, but I kind of like it...it's definitely Leroux Erik. It's my first phanfic in a while, so I'd love some feedback. Overall, though, I'm quite pleased at how this turned out.

Reviews are lovely!


The mask lay discarded, its pearly white set against a backdrop of shadows. Two glowing, amber eyes bored into their counterparts in the mirror as Erik took in his reflection. First the feet, imprisoned in black, calf-length boots. Then the legs, encased in black trousers and slightly creased around the knees. His eyes traveled up his reflection's torso. A white shirt covered the lean frame, camouflaging itself against deathly pale skin.

Up even further.

Amber eyes met, stared at each other, avoiding the surrounding horror; the head—a death's head. Eyes traveled downward to where the nose should be; instead, there was only a slit, gaping and obvious against the white face. Those eyes shifted down even further to the thin, colorless lips, stretched across the mouth, which contorted itself into a grim smile.

Erik flinched, and raised a pale hand, hiding from the grotesque sight between lean fingers.

It did him no good.

Still his eyes were drawn to the macabre face staring out of that mirror—his face. The pale hand rose, clenched itself into a fist. Its partner came to join it. Together, they smashed into the mirror. White skin and glass cracked.

A second blow—the glass shattered, the hands bled. The floor of the room was caked in fine, glittering dust, sparkling in the light of the candles. Erik raised a hand to eye-level. It was covered in blood, the viscous red liquid flowing from numerous abrasions. Idly, he removed one of the offending pieces of glass, holding it up into the light.

How the blood glistened!

It was a bright scarlet, congealed at the tip of the glass shard. Erik let the bloody glass slip from numb fingers, watching as it fell to meet its brethren, shattering into fine, red-stained powder upon its arrival.

Skeletal fingers were raised before the fearsome death's head once more, and deep-sunk eyes callously regarded the crimson substance oozing from the many gashes. Drops of ruby left sticky trails on the hand as they followed gravity to the pure white shirt. They met, one tainting the other.

Steps—slow and measured—to the mask, boots spreading glass across the floor. Bloody hands reached down, grasped the mask between scarlet coated fingers, and lifted it delicately to Erik's face.

The mask settled firmly into place, home once again.

Those booted feet trudged slowly, meticulously, across the scattered glass, halting once again in front of the mirror. Now there were was but a frame--gilded, ornate, and empty. Erik saw in that empty frame a face. Not a skeleton shielded by a bloodstained mask, but an actual face—a visage with a nose, full, pink lips, and skin of a color other than a ghostly sheen; it was a human face.

Erik blinked, opening his eyes as they came to rest on the mirror for a second time. The frame was empty, as it should be.

There was no glass, no reflection. There was no human, there was no monster.

There was only Erik.


If you liked it, leave me a review and tell me why. If you didn't like it, leave me a review and tell me why. I always love to hear what people think! Thanks for reading!