Authors note:
I need to explain some things first. I have always been drawn to the whole concept of the voice being able to captivate. Entrance. Hypnotize. The only creatures that have been able to do so have been mermaids, sirens, harpies,
some witches,some vampires, why not werewolves? I think that werewolves would be just as able to. Why not? Their howlscan reach far and wide. You may only think that the howl is only a beastly
cry. I think it can be, but it can be more than that. In my searchesI stillhaven'tbeen able to find a fanfictionthat I fit what I wanted. So here I go.
This fanfiction is inspired by my two favorite voice enchanters. The first, Erik, the Phantom of the Opera. (I am going to use his movie version with his book name)
The second, is Sarah Sanderson, whom is part of the Sanderson Sisters in the movie Hocus Pocus. Primarily famous for her song: "Come Little Children".
If the historical dates don't match up, I don't really care :3 This is also my own rendition of after the events with Christine and Roul. For the sake of time, Erik has moved on with his life and continues to haunt the Opera House. (I
know, kind of a lame explanation, but I just want to write this. P.S.I don't believe in the musical Love Never Dies). I'm just writing his for he sake of writing it.
Oh one more part!
Another huge part of inspiration Is the epic song Sonera by Thomas Bergeson. Imagine these two singers singing this awesome duet! (Imagine this being the main theme for the big climactic scene!)
Okay, I think that is just about it for explaining. Let's get on to the story!
Erik the Opera Ghost lurked above the Paris Opera House stage. Ever since his star pupil, Christine Daae left with Roul, he spent his days in emptiness. His soul felt empty. He hated the emptiness. He wandered for months
to find something to fill it. He resorted to alcohol. Drowning the emptiness and the sorrow. He spent months in that state, wasting away. One early morning, he woke on the top of the Opera House. When the alcohol indiced
sleep faded from his senses, he was once again reminded of the emptiness, he sobbed one last heave, and then stopped.
He simply breathed, and stared into the early morning sky above. He didn't know how long he layed there. But at that moment, miraculously, he did not feel he should resort to alcohol. His mind had been clear of any intoxication for the
first time in a very long time. He stood, and peered over the east side of the Opera House. He could see the expanses of Paris as far as his eyes could see.
Then the first rays of the morning sun pierced his eyes. It had been so long since he had seen any natural light. It burned his eyes. Hey shielded his eyes with his hands. Slowly, he used his hands to visor his eyes. He saw
a new beauty.
Erik want sure what happened, but he felt different. More at peace. It was difficult to become used to. Sometimes he would have moments of anxiety as he wondered if he was the same Erik. In time, he resolved that he indeed was
still the Opera Ghost. Yet he wasn't restless. He enjoyed toying with their minds from time to time, but anything harmful wasn't enjoyable anymore. At times he enjoyed simply roaming the hallways and corridors and secret passages.
One night, he took his black horse for a run to give it fresh air. During a brisk trot to go back to the opera house, the horse slowed, it's ears flicking backwards. Erik pulled to reins gently to slow to a gentle stop. The horses hooves
uneasily paced the ground, and would not enter the forest to return to the opera house. The horse tossed it's head and shyed away from going any father into the forest.
Perplexed and a little frustrated, Erik dismounted and warily took a few steps forward. He held his Punjab lasso in hand, hidden under his cape. Erik listened and watched. He progressed deeper and deeper. The mist from the
night rose mid-calf. The quiet was maddening. "Come out!" Erik snarled. He circled a clearing, casting his voice in the trees, in the bushes, and behind him with his ventriloquism.
He returned to the center. Waiting, slowly turning to watch the surrounding trees and brush.
Then, it appeared. Silent and black asthe night itself. It's hot breath steaming from its open mouth, fangs glistening, and saliva dripping. This was no ordinary wolf. It stood on to legs like a man, and was slightly hunched.
A long tail added more to its swift design.
Erik tightly gripped the lasso. He could easily outsmart this devilish beast with a few swift moves and by strangling it.
He circled it. The monster circled him. It hunched onto all fours, at this heighth it reached Eriks collar bone.
And then, without warning, it lunged. Erik only hard time to react, and only got the noose around the beasts huge neck. He pulled, but it got there first. On the ground, he felt it's fangs sink into his released and pulled
back, snapping the rope that Erik was holding. It stood and howled, the sound echoing. Just as quickly as it came, it left.
That was six years ago.
Eriks first transformation was something he did not want to relive. Yet with every full moon, he had to. Fortunately with each time, the process became smoother and less painful. Erik wasn't sure if it was because of his intellect
and genius he remained aware of himself while he was transformed, or if the werewolf that attacked him was a different case. When he was transformed, his clothing melded into his fur, which was pitch black. Drawing information to diagnose
his new challenge was challenging, and nearly impossible. He had only met two other werewolves in their wolf forms. The first one was while he was hunting in the forest and ended upbeing a nasty fight and added to his already scarred
face. The second was with an older one, who was experienced.
Even now, there was stillmuch he didn't know.
Like how his voice was altered, both in human and in werewolf form. His voiced seemed to Cary even more, and was much louder. He could add in growls and snarls as well, but when he sang, he howled as well. The result, was rather quite
enchanting.
He practiced this skill on young naive ballet dancers to make them wander far from their intended destinations, and leave them in a stupor of how they got there in the first place.
Yet, today was different.
He watched the actors, singers, andstage hands from above. They allseemeda bit anxious. But this wasn't his doing. They talked together in a huddled cluster, speaking in hushed anxious tones, all wearing
a worried and anxious expression with knit eyebrows and wide eyes.
Erik watched with his keen eyes, narrowing them in speculation. With his keen ears, hecould hear them.
"What is going on?" A young ballet dancer with wide eyes enquired.
"I have told the police, even they have had similar cases reported." Said a younger man who painted stage steps.
"So it's been multiple families!?" Gasped a chorus girl.
"My neighbor Clarice's daughterwent missing last night!" Aplumpaltowoman said in a hush voice.
"I will guard my Son during the nights!" Resolutely stated a gruff carpenter.
Erik was just as curious of what was going on as the people below. He was pulling this information together in his mind. From what he gathered, it was children who were going missing.
Alarmed, his eyes widened. Raoul de Chagny and his wife Christine had removed themselves from the Opera business. Raoul used his skills in other businesses and interprizes, and Christine devoted herself to be the mother of her son, Donatien,
now five years old.
Her son.
Five years old.
Although Erik received peace from his past love, he still had a twing of fatherly love towards her. To keep an eye over her. To remain, in a sense, an angel from afar.
Hewould have to investigate more. With a swish of his cape, he dove into the shadows.
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