Disclaimer: I do not own The Phantom of the Opera.
*EDIT* 11/10/17- I moved the second half of this over into this chapter so that you could read it all at once as one very long one-shot! Winner's are still posted at the bottom! *EDIT*
Hello, hello! It's the spookiest time of the year and that means it's time for….*drumroll* a one-shot contest! As it was with my last two, the rules are very similar, but slightly different to fit the Halloween mood! My last two contests have been open to any genre, but this time there is a requirement: at least one of the genres must be either Horror, Supernatural, Sci-Fi, Suspense, or Mystery! The other genre can be anything you like, but the other must be one of those I listed. So without further ado, here's what you need to know:
Entry timeline: October 3rd- October 31st. (Halloweeeen!)
Winner's announced: November 3rd (I'm going to shoot for this date but we all know how good I am with deadlines...)
How to Enter: Publish your story and include "Entry for the Phantom's Haunting Halloween One-Shot Contest" in your summary and PM me a link to your story.
Reward: 1st overall, a review, it gets favorited, AND you get bragging rights! (who doesn't love bragging rights, am I right?) 2nd and 3rd overall, a review and bragging rights! (And a favorite too if I REALLY love it!) Also EVERY story that enters gets a review from me! There are also genre and other category winners, for an example look at my past two one-shot contest stories! I also have a community that I add all the entries to once the contest is done.
Guidelines: Story must be a ONE-SHOT. One-shots are allowed to continue into a full-fledged story, but the judging will only be done on the first chapter. Stories must be new. The story must have something to do with Halloween and/or deal with something that puts us all in the spooky mood. For example, the one-shot you're about to read deals with the topics of both Halloween and ghosts! Once again, ALL ratings are accepted as well as any character combination and any setting (AU, Canon, Modern, you name it!). Judging is based on creativity, overall enjoyment of the story, and the judge's personal take on how your story handled the topic of Halloween/horror! Stories will be awarded top 3 and then category awards same as they were in A Very Phantom Christmas One-Shot contest and The Phantom's Valentine One-Shot contest. And just a reminder, this challenge is meant to be FUN and encourage more spooky stories! Afterall, Leroux wrote The Phantom of the Opera as a horror/mystery novel in the first place! So use your imagination and come with something scary or creepy or just plain unsettling!
This sample one-shot is split in half, so the first half is below and the second half will be posted November 3rd along with the winner's announcement! (There's also an easter egg towards the end of this half that ties into the title of the story in case I have any ballet/classical music fans out there!)
October 20, 1891
"That was impeccable, my dear, I can tell you've been practicing," Erik praised his student as he set down his violin.
Christine shivered at his words and glanced down. "Thank you, Angel-"
"Erik."
Christine looked up.
"How many times must I tell you to refer to me by my name?" Erik softly reprimanded as he could never truly be upset by his darling songbird.
"Thank you…Erik," Christine said quietly.
Erik gave a small smile at the way she said his name as he raised his gloved hand to lay against the side of her cheek. Christine leaned into it and placed her hand on top of his to hold it in place.
"I don't believe I ever told you how much I enjoy having lessons in my dressing room…with you present I mean," Christine said, looking up.
Erik shook his head in confusion. "I've always been present-"
"No, I mean physically. I believed you to be nothing more than a spectre for so long and now to have you where I can see you…" Christine paused and gave a small smile. "It is wonderful."
And then she stretched up on her toes and pressed a kiss to his lips, their hands still held to her cheek. She broke the kiss and hovered over his lips for just a moment, relishing the simple beauty of being near her maestro once again before pulling back.
Erik reluctantly removed his hand from under her hold on her cheek and let it hang by his side, still in a daze from her kiss. How long had he yearned to give her lessons in person? How many years had he wished for her to reenter his life? It had been so long since they had parted from each other that fateful night so many years ago, and now….now the fates were smiling upon him. The Comte and Comtesse de Chagny had moved back to Paris after the Comtesse's "mama" had fallen ill and then passed.
And then three months back he spotted her roaming the hallways of the opera house, lost and alone just as she had when she was much younger.
And his life gained meaning all over again.
A few pulled strings and suddenly she was in his grasp once again. Every Tuesday from five o'clock to seven o'clock she had lessons with him, her husband blissfully unaware. Or at least that's what Erik hoped. He knew that he could never have her legally, but he could have her music and that was almost the same in his eyes. The Comte could never dream of having the same hold over Christine as Erik held, and Erik smirked at the thought.
Knock, knock.
Both of them looked over at the dressing room door at the same time.
"Christine…" Erik whispered, barely audible.
Christine stood frozen, eyes wide as she stared at the door. "Erik, what time is it?"
Erik pulled his pocket watch out of its pocket and clicked it open. "Quarter past seven o'clock-"
Christine gasped and quickly gathered the shawl that she had been wrapped in when she first came. "It must be Raoul, I've over stayed my allotted time, I must leave at once!" Christine said in a rushed, but quiet tone.
"Christine?" a voice came from the other side of the door, "Might I come in?"
The color drained from Christine's face as she turned back to Erik. "You must hide! If not for your own safety but mine! If he were to find out about our meetings…I do not wish to think of what would happen…"
Erik shot a glare at the door. "Of course, I will leave, but if you need me you need only to say my name and I shall return from behind the mirror- do you understand?" he asked as he stuffed his watch back into his pocket.
Christine nodded and closed her eyes for a moment, "Yes, I understand."
And when she opened her eyes he was gone.
Christine hurried over to the door and opened it, revealing her husband on the other side.
"Finally!" Raoul laughed, stepping into her dressing room. "I thought I would be standing there all evening," he finished as he sat himself on one of her plush chairs.
Christine closed the door and looked back at him. "I must apologize, I didn't realize the time—"
Raoul shook his head and beckoned her closer. "What's done is done, do not fret over something as silly as a few minutes….have you finished packing up your things here?"
Christine nodded.
Raoul smiled and stood, taking her hand in his. "I'm still not sure how visiting your old room each week helps you recover from…well, you know…."
"Yes, Raoul, it helps tremendously," Christine cut him off.
"Yes, I suppose this place is quite charming without you know who posing any threats towards our lives," Raoul said, lowering his voice.
Christine gave a nervous laugh.
"Well, the past is in the past, come let us return home," Raoul said as he began walking towards the door.
Christine nodded in agreement as the two disappeared out of the room and down the hallway.
October 27, 1891
Tuesday came once more and brought another lesson and another farewell behind the mirror- her and Erik had ended their lessons ten minutes prior, simply to be on the safe side.. Christine had turned down the gaslights and allowed candles to be the sole light source for the room. She had just finished lighting the last candle when she heard the familiar knock from her husband sound on her door.
"Come in, Raoul," Christine called out.
The door opened slowly with a creak and the sound of hesitant footsteps could be heard before the door clicked shut.
"Christine, might I ask you something?" Raoul asked, still standing in front of the door.
Christine looked up and over at him, silently giving him permission to continue.
"Who…who were talking to before I came in? I heard you talking last week as well but I didn't wish to pry—"
"Whatever are you talking about?" Christine said quickly, horrified that her lessons had been discovered. She had been so careful- so cautious! Not even once had she talked about Erik to Raoul since the incident, and he tried his best not to bring him up either. It was a quiet agreement that hadn't needed words to decide upon. Christine backed up so that she was sitting upon her vanity chair.
She couldn't let him find out about her meetings.
Wouldn't let him find out.
It was times like these that she prayed she was a better actress.
Raoul clasped his hands together and looked down at his feet before meeting his wife's wide and un-blinking gaze.
"I fear for your sanity coming here each week," Raoul said hastily, taking a step closer to Christine.
Christine didn't move.
Instead she stayed frozen to her seat until she thought of the right words to say.
"My sanity? Do you believe me to have gone insane, dear husband?"
"No!" Raoul said a bit too loudly. "I mean to say…well…sane people do not usually converse with only themselves…"
Christine blinked.
"I don't understand what you're trying to say, Raoul—"
"Christine, the past few times you have been here I've heard you talking to yourself!" Raoul blurted out before running a hand through his hair. "It is almost as if you're having a conversation— you ask questions, and then pause for an answer, and then you would laugh for completely no reason! At first I thought perhaps you were writing but I do not believe you are, and I cannot lose you Christine! I will not stand for you to be deemed a crazy person and sent to an asylum! I love you far too much!" Raoul was now pacing in front of Christine, worry written all over his face.
Meanwhile Christine was still in her chair, hands gripping the back frame.
He really hadn't heard Erik's voice?
Only….hers?
How odd…she thought. How very, very odd….
"Raoul," she said softly, reaching out to hold on to his hands. "Raoul, my darling, I don't know what you heard, but I will admit that I've been….reading some of my old journals while I've been here in an attempt to put old memories to rest," she finished, hoping that her fib would be enough to ease his worrying.
It wasn't.
He cocked an eyebrow and knelt to her level. "But sometimes you sing…you sing like you used to back when he was around, and sometimes I hear you say his name and then I hear the most beautiful music…Oh, I do not know how to put this, and I never was one to believe in such nonsense, yet—" Raoul stopped short to look her right in her eyes.
"I believe the Opera Ghost is back. Not as a clever disguise, but as a real phantom, Christine, and I fear for your safety."
Christine was silent for a moment and then let out a laugh.
"A ghost? You believe I've been visiting to see a ghost?" she got out between her laughter.
Raoul could only nod.
"Oh, come now- that is simply preposterous! What proof do you even have?"
At this Raoul swallowed and straightened up. "We both know that he has been dead for many years—we saw it in the paper—and well, you see while you've been here, I've heard first hand that there have been reports of footsteps and doors opening and closing on their own and other strange occurrences all drifting from this particular hallway—"
"Raoul!" Christine shouted, promptly hushing him. "How could you believe in such nonsense, I've been here every Tuesday for these past few months and I haven't heard any of this! Ridiculous if you ask me; are you sure I'm the one going insane here?"
Raoul huffed, frustrated, but refused to give up quite yet. "Christine, you must listen, that's not all that I know. I have also been doing a bit of research on these ghosts, and apparently once a person has become deceased and taken up…haunting…they usually only stick to one specific area- and what better place than here? We both know that he frequented this area and was a prominent place to him because of you! So I believe that it makes perfect sense that is the ghost of him come back to terrorize us."
Christine sighed and squeezed his hand. "Raoul, when have you ever researched anything in your life? Hmm?"
Raoul pursed his lips and looked down. "All right, so I eavesdropped on a few conversations—"
"Raoul," Christine started with a slight roll of her eyes as he chattered on.
"But the most strange thing is that none of these ghostly happenings occurred until we came back three months ago. What else started three months ago? You visiting your old dressing room each week to help rid yourself of your nightmares— I believe us being here has awakened the Opera Ghost's spirit, his actual ghost!"
They both sat in silence for a moment as Raoul caught his breath from his unexpected speech. Christine reached out and patted his cheek, rough stubble meeting her palm.
"Yet I haven't noticed any of these things, Raoul. Why don't we put this silliness behind us and go home? After all, the All Hallows Eve Masque Ball is only a few short days from now and I still have yet to finish my costume," Christine said sweetly before planting a kiss on his cheek.
Raoul met her gaze and nodded her head. "Of course, I've kept the carriage driver waiting long enough."
And with that they blew out the candles, leaving the room in an inky darkness, and left, oblivious to the shadowy figure that lingered behind the mirror, hidden from their sight.
October 31, 1891
Masks and capes swirled around Christine as she made her way through the dancers, her arm linked in her husband's elbow.
"Christine, I believe I shall fetch us something to drink, will you meet me at our table?" Raoul asked, bending down to her ear.
"Yes, that would be nice," Christine answered, untangling her arm from his. Raoul gave a curt nod and then he was off, weaving himself through the rest of the crowd, blending in with the other masked guests.
The music struck up a faster beat and suddenly people were grabbing one another to start up the next frenzy of dancing. Christine found herself caught in the middle of them, quite squished between couples trying to dance.
"Pardon me, but if you would only let me through," Christine said as she tried to squeeze her way through a pair of dancers.
They acted as if they hadn't seen or heard her.
Christine sighed and turned around, seeking another way around, but the people were either purposefully ignoring her or were simply that oblivious to her presence. Finally she managed her way through an opening only to find that someone was standing on the train of her dress.
"Sir," Christine called out, but the music must have been too loud for him to hear her as he continued dancing with the lady in his arms. "Sir!" and after a moment of tugging, Christine's dress forcefully came from under his foot and the force from her pull knocked her backwards and right into the chest of another patron. She quickly whirled around to apologize—
"Erik! What on earth are you doing here?" Christine cried out excitedly.
She could see his lips form a small smile and he jerked his head in the direction of a more secluded area. She willingly followed him until he stopped in the corner of the ballroom that was hidden under the stairs.
"You have yet to answer me," Christine said with a light laugh.
Erik brushed a curl that had fallen from her up-do behind her ear before answering. "I came to see you of course, why else would I bother myself with such crowds as these if not for you?"
Christine glanced down before she took the opportunity to truly look at him.
He was dressed head to toe in black, most likely to blend in better and not to stand out, the only color on him was his mask that was a metallic gold instead of his usual black one he almost always wore around her.
"I'm flattered," Christine whispered pulling him closer to her. "I see you've changed your mask color—"
Erik pulled back at this comment. "Well, even ghosts like a change from time to time. This is a party after all…"
Christine could do nothing but gape at him, jaw dropped open. "Did you…you mean to say…you heard mine and Raoul's conversation?"
"Every word of it."
She felt as if her stomach dropped as she locked eyes with Erik.
"It's not true is it? You're not really dead are you?"
Erik threw his hands up in defense. "Who's to say I'm not? I truly felt like it after you left…all those years of torment and heartbreak only to have you come back…so in the philosophical sense I suppose you could say I'm a ghost. A ghost of the man I once was—"
"I don't believe you- I refuse to believe that you're a ghost!" Christine said suddenly, separating herself from his grasp.
Erik could only shake his head. "Christine, reach out and touch me. I am as real as anyone here, alive and whole again because of you. I am not a ghost, I am only but a man…."
Christine placed a hand on his chest, comforted that her hand didn't go right through him. How odd men were! How odd all this ghost nonsense was!
"Truthfully though, Erik, you are truly alive? Not an illusion?" Christine asked, eyes pleading for the truth.
"I have always been a man, Christine, and I am not an illusion—"
"Erik!" a voice called from in front of them. "What are you doing over here? I've been looking all over the place for you."
Erik and Christine both turned their gazes over to the man who had dared to interrupt them. Before them stood a man, slightly shorter than Erik wearing fine silks of far off countries and a burgundy mask in his hands.
"Daroga, I hadn't realized you still came to these events," Erik droned, annoyed that he was no longer alone with Christine.
"You know good and well I always attend these events, Erik, do not try to ridicule me, I saved your life I deserve better treatment than this!" the old Persian man retorted, finger wagging in Erik's face.
"I seem to remember him, he was there that night wasn't he?" Christine asked, looking up at Erik.
Erik nodded and turned his head toward Christine. "Yes, he was, though I prefer to pretend that he wasn't—"
"Pardon?" The Persian's voice piped up.
Erik shot him a glare and turned his body back towards his intruder. "Can't you see I'm trying to have a conversation here, Daroga?" and as he spoke he gestured towards Christine who stood beside him.
"A conversation? With whom?" he asked, eyebrows raised.
"Are you blind? With Christine! I told you she had returned, or have you forgotten that as well?" Erik told him before bending down to apologize to Christine for his 'friend's' impertinence.
The Persian man opened his mouth and then shut it before shaking his head. "Of course…" he said slowly, looking around Erik. "My apologies to the Comtesse…Erik, really! This has gone on for months. This isn't good for your health, physically or mentally!" The daroga said out of exasperation. "You must stop this pretending— it is has gone too far!"
And with that he walked off to rejoin the crowd of the party.
"What does he mean?" Christine asked as she pressed herself closer to Erik's side.
"Just ignore him, he is nothing but an old man who is too nosey for his own good," Erik said, turning to face her. "Would you care for a dance?"
Christine's eyes still lingered in the direction that the Persian had left in, questions bubbling at the forefront of her mind. What was that man talking about? Did he not approve of her and Erik seeing each other? Was he a ghost as well? Perhaps Raoul was right and she should have never started seeing Erik again, she didn't think she had the heart to be fooled by her angel again. Yet, here she stood, Erik just as human and alive as everyone else in the room. Just as alive as Raoul, and just as alive as herself.
No, she had nothing to fret about and as the band began another song — Grande Valse Villageoise, a new favorite from some new Russian ballet— her voice spoke without her mind's full consent:
"It would be my honor."
Christine leisurely walked down one of the hallways that was on the path back towards her dressing room where she had agreed to meet with Raoul. He had told her he had some quick business to attend to and then he would right there. She smiled, deep in her memories of the evening. She had spent almost the entire evening dancing with Erik, only stopping when Erik insisted that she should dance with Raoul for appearance sakes. And so she had.
And it made her remember how much she loved her husband.
Which in turn made her feel miserable for loving her Angel just the same.
Christine shivered and put her guilt-ridden thoughts behind her as she descended another flight of stairs to a lower level hallway. The gas lamps were dimmer on this hallway, almost as if someone had purposefully turned them down, but she knew that was silly- who would turn down hallway lamps? You needed the light to see where to go! So she continued on, confident that the light was just another trick of her eyes-
Creeakk….
Christine stopped and turned to look behind her. That noise had sounded almost exactly like someone walking on the creaky, wooden floors behind her. Was someone walking down the hallway with her? Following her?
Nonsense.
Christine shook her head and kept walking towards her dressing room which was at the very end of the hallway-
Slam!
She gasped, all of her air trapped in her chest. There had to be someone in the hallway with her! Doors didn't slam by themselves-
I've heard first hand that there have been reports of footsteps and doors opening and closing on their own and other strange occurrences all drifting from this particular hallway….
Christine froze as the memory of Raoul's words came back to her. Perhaps it wasn't a person following her, but….a ghost? It would make sense after all. She was in the hallway that Raoul had said that people had had strange experiences in and she just heard for herself footsteps and a door shut. This was too perfect to be a coincidence! Christine took in a deep, slow breath as the realization that all of the things she had learned of were becoming true before she began walking down the dark hallway once more.
Creak…creak…creak…
Christine quickened her pace.
Whatever was following her was still there. Christine moved her head to look behind her but didn't dare to, afraid of whatever was back there.
Whatever was haunting her.
She glanced up and saw her dressing room door. It was a few more feet in front of her, off to the right. She picked up her skirts and ran down the hall; feeling as if she were floating instead of running down the corridor.
Creak! Creak! Creak!
The footsteps were getting louder!
…reports of footsteps and doors opening and closing on their own…this particular hallway….
Christine pushed forward with all she had until she stood in front of her door. She fiddled with the handle, shoving her key into the lock and turning it, hurriedly placing herself behind her barricade that was her door as she heard the little metal key clatter to the floor. She slammed the door shut and locked it from the inside.
But she still heard the footsteps.
"Oh, no…no, no, no, no…" Christine mumbled to herself as she grabbed a chair and propped it up under the door knob.
The footsteps were getting closer, that she was sure of- but it couldn't get in, could it? No, of course not she had the door locked, and a chair put against it! She was safe…yes….safe-
Knock! Knock!
Christine jumped, her air to scream trapped in her lungs.
It had found her door.
It was following her!
Knock! Knock!
You're fine, Christine, you have the key….Christine thought to herself.
But then she realized as she looked around herself, she didn't have the key.
And that was when she heard her lock click and saw the door knob start to turn.
"No!" Christine yelped as she scrambled to seek shelter from this creature. Anywhere.
Her eyes landed her vanity. With one last glance at the door she hurried over to and climbed underneath the counter in the hollow between the two rows of drawers that held it up, trying to make herself as small as possible. She squeezed her eyes shut as she heard whatever was behind the door fighting to open it because of the chair. She squeezed her eyes shut, hoping that she was imagining all of this.
Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name.
Clash!
Your kingdom come, your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily-
Thud!
bread, and forgive us our debts, as we also have forgiven our debtors. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil—
"Christine!"
She gasped and paused her frantic praying. It was calling her name! She squeezed her eyes tighter.
Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name….
"Christine! You are all right! It is only I, your husband," the voice said again.
Christine opened her eyes, still cowering under the vanity. She looked up and met the most wonderful pair of blue eyes.
"Oh, Raoul," Christine sobbed, as she allowed herself to be half dragged out from under her furniture. Raoul brought her close to his chest in a hug.
"Shh…my darling. You're all right. There is nothing to fear here. I'm here, I'm here…"
Raoul continued to rock her until her sobs quieted now to a few sniffles, however, she still shook upon his shoulder.
"Raoul, there was someone….hiccup…following me down the— hiccup— hallway and I knew at once that what you told me about…hiccup…must be true! Hiccup!" Christine cried, her face still buried in the crook of Raoul's neck.
"Shh, shh…" Raoul comforted as he pat her on the back. "Now, what must be true? Hmm?"
Christine was quiet for another minute or so, with the exception of the sound of her still trying to catch her breath from all the excitement and her crying fit. Slowly, she raised her head so that she was looking into her husband's eyes.
"There is a ghost! It is true! It followed me down the hallway and I am so sorry I ever doubted you…" and with that she laid her head back on his shoulder and clung to his jacket tighter, fearful that he would ridicule her.
"Christine, I," Raoul started.
"But, Raoul, that's not all," Christine interrupted him. "Every Tuesday, when I come here, I come to see him, Raoul. I…I come to see him for voice lessons again, just like I used to…can you ever forgive me for deceiving you?" she confessed, not looking up from where she was nestled in his arms.
Raoul was silent as he held his still crying wife against him.
"Well, I...I mean...I…yes, I think I can forgive you," he paused to press a kiss to the top of her head, "especially if my suspicions are true, which I think, my dear- you just confirmed."
Christine raised her head, unsure of what he meant.
"What do you mean?"
Raoul met her eyes and smiled. "My suspicion that he had come back on account of us. You have been seeing a ghost, and now he is unceremoniously following you around. As disgusted as I am that somehow our presences would awaken him from the dead-" Christine gave a squeak of disapproval at his word choice. "I think I have an answer that will solve all our troubles with the supernatural: a seance."
It was now Christine's turn to look incredulously at him.
"Now, now," Raoul began, "I know what you might be thinking, but I think we could pull it off! Just the two of us, here in this room. Maybe then we can rid this world of him and he can go back to where he came from…"
Christine pursed her lips. "I just…I don't think it is right to mess around with spiritual things, Raoul, really. It makes me feel…uncomfortable…"
Raoul shook his head and squeezed her tighter to him. "Nonsense- it'll be harmless. Who is to say it would work anyway? There is no telling until we try."
Christine took a deep breath. "I still don't approve of it…it just seems wrong…"
"What's wrong is how rude everyone was at that party this evening! They acted as if I wasn't there at all! The nerve!" Raoul countered, successfully unnerved by his fellow patrons' behaviors.
"I had the same experience…" Christine said quietly, although she kept it secret that she had been noticed by one important person…but that wouldn't really matter in the long run, especially now that she was almost convinced that he was a ghost. He had lied to her! She had asked him to tell her truth whether or not he was truly alive and he had lied to her. Oh, ghosts could be so tricky!
"Honestly, I'm not sure what all we would need to do to perform one correctly, but... Perhaps some candles and a table- but I'm confident that we could do it..maybe on Tuesday when the spirit is regularly here..."
So they were back on that subject...
Christine closed her eyes and unwrapped her arms from around him. However, she had barely untangled herself from him when she was back in his grasp. Before she could say anything in protest, Raoul had her by the shoulders.
"Christine, I know I haven't always been the best husband, but I need to do this for your own good. I saved you from him once, and I'll do it a million times over if it keeps you safe from harm and by my side. I love you so much, more than any ghost could ever hope to," Raoul said as he pushed a stray hair back from her face before letting his palm rest against her collar.
Christine nodded. "If...if that's what you really think is best, then...then I'll agree to it. We can do this seance, and I'll pray for forgiveness once it's all over," Christine said reluctantly, placing her hand over Raoul's, the gold of their wedding bands clinking together.
November 3, 1891
"Raoul, I just don't feel right doing any of this…"
Christine clutched the box of matches she held in her hand tighter to her chest as she watched Raoul walk around, preparing the room. They had found an old round table in a neighboring room that had been abandoned and had dragged it in to where it now sat in the middle of her dressing room, just barely missing sitting right in front of the mirror. He had then taken three candles and placed them in the center of the table- which Raoul had insisted was imperative as no one would ever do a seance with the gaslight on.
"Christine- the matches?" Raoul asked as he held out his hand, ignoring her worried statement she had uttered mere seconds ago.
Christine handed them over. She wrung her hands as she watched Raoul light the candles.
"All right- now Christine, turn off the gas lamp, we only need the candle light."
Christine nodded and reached for the lamp-
"Wait! I almost forgot!" Raoul shouted out as he reached into his jacket and produced a revolver.
Christine stood frozen by the light. "Raoul," she swallowed, "what do you need a gun for? If he is a ghost now a gun cannot help us."
Raoul set the gun on the table before answering. "It's only a precaution, that's all," he answered as he sat himself down in front of it. "Now then, the lights, please."
And with that Christine turned off the lamp so that the only light source in the room came from the three candles in the middle of the table. She made her way over to the table and sat across from Raoul. His face glowed in the candlelight, his cheeks appearing hallow where the shadows took over the light.
"Something feels wrong about this," Christine said once more as she brought her hand to her forehead.
"Things are going just as they should, Christine," Raoul tried to calm her nerves as he reached his hands across the table to her.
Christine simply stared at his upturned palms.
"We have to form an unbroken circle, or else it will not work," Raoul explained with a slight nod of his head.
She took a shaky breath before reaching out and holding his hands.
"Now we shut our eyes…"
She could've sworn she felt the room get colder.
Whoosh…
Christine's eyes flew open.
"Raoul, I'm frightened, I think we should stop," Christine pleaded, staring at her husband with wide eyes.
"Shh..we haven't even truly started. We need something to chant, to summon him to this room. What is a something he would come to, dear? Anything?" Raoul still kept his eyes shut, but squeezed his beloved's hands in support.
"Oh…well…I don't know…I think he had a particular fondness for Faust—"
"Perfect! We'll use something from that one. All we need to do is repeat a sentence or two from the lyrics over and over until it catches his attention," Raoul said, straightening up in his chair.
Christine took another deep breath and closed her eyes. "Holy angel in Heaven blessed, my spirit longs with thee to rest…"
"Holy angel in Heaven blessed, my spirit longs with thee to rest…." Raoul had now enthusiastically joined in with her and the two sat holding hands, repeating the phrase over and over.
Christine began to relax until she felt a strange tingling sensation coming through her fingers, almost as if she had rubbed her feet over carpet and then touched something. She squeezed Raoul's hands tighter, but the sensation did not disappear, instead it seemed to spread through her hand and up her arm. She faltered in her speech, but refused to open her eyes. Instead she began praying in her head.
Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name—
"Holy angel in Heaven blessed, my spirit longs with thee to rest…"
She felt dizzy, and a bit nauseated, but didn't dare open her eyes.
Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on Earth as it is in Heaven-
"Holy angel in Heaven blessed, my spirit longs with thee to rest…"
She was almost certain that the room was spinning around her even though she saw nothing but darkness before her closed eyes.
Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name—
"Holy angel in Heaven blessed, my spirit longs with thee to rest…"
Another cold breeze wooshed through the room, and the tingling feeling was growing stronger, nearly reaching her shoulder now.
Our Father, who art in Heaven—
"Holy angel in Heaven blessed, my spirit longs with thee to rest!"
She felt as if she was going to be sick- she just needed everything to stop!
Our Father—
"What the devil is going on in here?"
Christine's eyes shot open and her hands let go of Raoul's.
"Erik!" she shrieked.
"The Phantom!" Raoul shouted at the same time as he turned around in his chair. He reached for the gun, and cocked it as he raised to shoot.
Bang!
The gun fired, but Erik dodged the bullet, quickly moving to the right. Raoul went to take aim again, but stopped; for as soon as his eyes met the golden pits that were his nemesis's he fainted, falling with a thud right out if his chair.
"Raoul!" Christine cried out, standing up from her chair to go over to him, but stopped when she watched another pair of feet step over him to get to her. "What did you do to him?"
"Christine, I need an answer now- what is the meaning of all of this!" Erik roared, gesturing to the table and candles that were set up while his other hand clutched the side of his arm.
Christine sniffed and looked around. "I…I have nothing to apologize for."
"And you think that I need to? Might I remind you that it was your husband who just shot at me!" Erik retorted, giving Raoul a hearty 'nudge' with the back of his foot.
Christine shook her head. "This was all Raoul's idea and I was a fool to go along with it…"
"What even is all of this? I come for normal lessons only to find you and him chanting nonsense around a candle—"
"It was supposed to be a seance!" Christine cut him off before sitting back down in one of the chairs, tears streaming down her face.
Erik stood in silence for a moment, trying to make sense of what all he had just witnessed. He started to laugh.
"Christine…a seance? Whatever for? I never took it that you were into all those spirituality practices. If you would have told me I could've showed you how a real one works- not whatever ridiculousness this is!"
Christine looked up at him. "We were only doing it to summon you…which obviously worked because here you are! I cannot believe you lied to me again...I thought you were real, I honestly believed it…"
"Christine." Erik reached out and laid a hand on her shoulder. "Christine, for the final time- I am not a ghost and neither is anyone here. We are all human and we are all alive. Do not doubt what your own eyes are clearly telling you," Erik finished, with all the eloquence of a famed speaker.
Christine met his gaze and stood up. "Prove to me that you are not what he says you are, that you are not a ghost."
Erik nodded and removed his hand from the side of his arm where the bullet had just barely grazed him and let the blood trickle down his arm. He then reached for the inside of his jacket pocket. He retrieved a knife and then made a slight cut on his forearm. Thick, red blood rose to the surface of the cut.
"Ghosts cannot bleed, can they?" Erik said, putting his other hand over his new wound.
"Erik! Why would you do that?" Christine gasped, her hand coming up to cover her mouth.
"You said you needed proof, and here it is: blood. The one thing that everyone has who is alive. Now do you believe me?" Erik asked stepping forward towards her.
Christine didn't offer a reply, instead she reached up on her toes and kissed him on his lips. When she pulled back, she told Erik the three words that she had never dared to utter to him before:
"I love you."
In that moment she felt complete, like her entire purpose in life had been realized, and all seemed right with the world.
November 18, 1891
Knock knock knock!
"Daroga! Open this door now!"
Knock knock knock!
Shuffling noises came from the other side of the door before it was opened by a man of Persian descent, a pair of wire glasses sitting on the brim of his nose. "Quiet down, you are going to wake the neighbors, Erik. I swear, it is three in the morning, what could you possibly want that couldn't wait a few more hours, hm?"
"She's gone, I just don't understand…she's disappeared- both of them have!" Erik rambled on as he pushed past Nadir to get inside his flat.
Nadir squinted his eyes, still confused and sleepy because of his abrupt awakening from his slumber. Letting Erik know the location of his home was a decision he would always regret. Was it too much to ask for a full nights sleep? Nadir sighed and shut the door.
"Erik, what are you rambling on about-"
Erik was in a frenzy; pacing back and forth in the Persian's living room all the while still muttering about love and music lessons and playing with the fraying fabric of a bandage wound tightly around his arm.
"She just…she didn't show up for lessons- I thought maybe she was mad at me for some reason, so, so…oh! She must hate me! She has left me!" and with that he fell into one of Nadir's plush recliners.
Nadir could do nothing but shake his head.
The melodramatic bastard.
Nadir sat down in the chair across from him as he watched Erik break down into tears.
"Tell me what happened, who's gone missing?"
Erik struggled to begin speaking, taking in big gulps of air between his blubbering. "She came back, they both did, three months ago, and not once did she miss a single lesson…but she missed last Tuesday…and then she missed yesterday's lesson as well. She…they…no, they must be here- she said she loved me! She meant it too, Daroga! Oh, to feel such happiness…but, but at what price…" and he trailed off as another fit of tears took over.
Nadir scooted forward in his chair and asked for what seemed like the hundredth time, "Who, Erik, who?"
"Christine! Who else would it be? Even that pesky husband of hers has disappeared too," he stated, as if the answer was just as obvious as the fact that the sun was bright.
Nadir visibly paled. "Erik," he started, holding up a hand so Erik wouldn't interrupt. "I don't know how or why you started this…nonsense, but I have let it go on long enough. The Comte and Comtesse never made it back to Paris."
Erik remained silent, confused.
Nadir sighed and took off his glasses to look Erik right in the eye. "Erik…Christine and Raoul de Chagny are dead."
The whole world seemed to freeze as the words hit Erik's ears. Slowly he started shaking his head. "You're lying-"
"I wish I was…I wish I was," the Daroga said as he stood up for his chair and walked over to his desk in the corner of the room. He pulled out one of the drawers and retrieved a wrinkled piece of newspaper that had been ripped out of the actual paper. He walked back over to where they were sitting and held it out for Erik to take.
"I know you don't believe me, I know you won't believe me...you haven't believed anything since this came out three months ago…"
Erik snatched the article out of Nadir's hands and hesitantly began reading it.
Raoul Alexandar, Comte de Chagny as well as his wife, Christine Elizabeth, Comtesse de Chagny, née Daaé, both perished in a shipwreck that occurred over the last week, the twenty-eighth day of July in the year of our Lord, one thousand, eight hundred, and ninety-one. They had departed from a trip to England, and were on their way home to tend to a sick and dying relative of the Comtesse's, one Judith Marie Valerius, née Bernard, who perished later that week on the second day of August in the year of our Lord, one thousand, eight hundred, and ninety-one. The bodies were not recovered. The pair have no descendants of their own and are proceeded in death by the late Comte and Comtesse de Chagny, Albert and Estella, Raoul's father and mother; as well as violinist Gustave and his wife Charlotte Daaé, Christine's father and mother, and by Philippe Eduard, Comte de Chagny, Raoul's brother who drowned underneath the Palais Garnier ten years ago by the hands of the supposed Phantom of the Opera. The Chagnys' are survived by two sisters and their husbands and children, both on Raoul de Changy's side of the family. A memorial will be held for them on the seventh day of August in the year of our Lord, one thousand, eight hundred, and ninety-one.
"No…no…this is…this isn't true!" Erik shouted, crumpling up the paper in his hands.
"I know you're upset, but you've known about this for three months! You read it in the paper long before I had even got a chance to. Erik, you must stop pretending to see and interact with them! They are dead! These lessons are nothing more than your overactive imagination trying to grieve!"
"No…" Erik got out as he shook his head frantically, looking for a way to escape. Nadir was lying! Why would he….how could he?
"No she's not dead! I've seen her!" Erik cried out as he fell to his knees crying. The old Persian bent over to help him up, his hand grasping a thick bandage on Erik's right arm.
"If she's dead then why am I not?" Erik shouted as he pulled his pocket knife from his jacket pocket.
"Erik- don't you dare, not in my house, not anywhere, not ever!" Nadir yelled as he fought Erik for the knife. But in the middle of their struggle, Erik managed to roll away at just the right angle and stab himself in the chest. He cried out but then used the last of his strength to yank the knife back out. Blood trickled out on to the carpet as Erik's chest heaved heavily up and down
"Erik! No- why? Erik…Erik…" but the sound of his old friend's frantic cries were trailing out, growing quieter by the second. Perhaps now he would be with Christine…yes…if she was dead then perhaps….perhaps they would meet each other again in the afterlife….someday…yes…someday….
December 1, 1891
The night air was cold on his old, brittle bones as he climbed the hill to the cemetery. This wasn't the first time he had been to it and it surely wouldn't be the last. The sky was growing somber around him as dusk was preparing the way for night to settle in. The Persian man shivered and pulled his overcoat closer together. It hadn't even been a month since well...since that night, as the old Daroga liked to refer to it. The sight of his best friend killing himself still haunted his nightmares...his daydreams...his thoughts...
But life moved on.
So he buried his friend- he refused to refer to him as anything but that now- underneath the Opera House, as he knew that was truly the only place he could ever be at peace, and had left him there and hadn't returned. He thought that'd be the end of it.
How wrong he'd been.
He held the bouquet of peonies tighter in his hand as he walked past the aisles of cold stone slabs, doing his best not to let his conscience get the best of him. But it was his conscience that brought him here now, wasn't it? For weeks he had felt the urge to visit the grave of the late de Changy's without even a really good reason. There was no need to, no law saying he had to, now obligation-
But he needed to.
For Erik.
Two larger stones came into view and he knew at once that he had found the right tombstones. He paused a second to catch his breath before pushing the rest of the way over to the graves. He stopped once again when he stood in front of them, silently apologizing for the short life they had both lived. He closed his eyes in reverence for a moment and then opened his eyes. He nodded his head toward that of the Comte's grave before he turned his gaze to the Comtesse's; to Christine's. He took a knee and placed the flowers delicately by her grave, covering the stem with a bit of dirt in the hopes that the wind wouldn't pick them up and blow them away.
Almost as if on cue a cold gust of wind blew through causing Nadir to look off to the side of the grave, just slightly above it.
And he thought he might have a heart-attack right then and there.
There, a few yards behind the gravestones, was a couple seeming to float among the tombstones, hand in hand. The woman was average height with curly blonde hair tucked up in a bun with the most brilliant blue eyes, and the man...the man stood tall above her with jet black hair and golden eyes...
Christine and Erik.
He wore no mask to hide his facial deformity, his skull like face quite out in the open for the whole world to see-
Nadir glanced around him at the few other mourners around him and no one else seemed to notice the couple, he was the only one- but how? Somewhere back in the reaches of his mind he heard Erik talking about his many encounters with Christine...and then he remembered the night of the All Hallow's Eve Masque Ball, he remembered how Erik danced by himself in the corner of the room and pretending that Christine was there the entire time...
Nadir gasped in shock and realization.
Erik hadn't been pretending.
He had been seeing Christine...her ghost.
Nadir stood slowly, his eyes never leaving the ghostly couple in front of him. He stared at them a moment longer before nodding and turning around to walk home, leaving the two to their eternity.
The End.
And here we are at the end! Hopefully you all stuck around and read the story. As to how Erik and Christine found each other and why Raoul wasn't there is up to you as the reader. Personally I think Erik and Christine were sneaking around the graveyard without Raoul knowing, just like they used to with their lessons. Also, in case it isn't clear why Christine disappeared, it is because she had fulfilled what she had set out to do. It's legend that ghosts are ghosts because they have a task to complete that they didn't fulfill in their lifetime, in this story, Christine's is telling Erik she loves him, thats why she feels 'complete' when she tells him.
There were lots of wonderful entries and I had such a fun time reading them all and there is a tie for second place because I just couldn't choose! So without further ado, here's the winners!
First Place
An All Hallow's Eve to Remember by AliceHeart247
Second Place (First runner up)
Annoyance by Igenlode Wordsmith
and
Erlik Kahn by E.M.K.81
Third Place (Second runner up)
A Bouquet of Chrysanthemums by Saturdaychick
Thank you to everyone who entered- your stories will all be added to my community for the one-shot contests. Would anyone be interested in another Christmas one-shot contest? December will be here before you know it- and I'd love to see if anyone wants me to host it again. I know I had lots of fun!
Until the next one!
Not A Ghost3