Chapter 2, just for you :)
Disclaimer: I do not own Erik or any other character from PotO.
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Erik shielded his eyes from a bombardment of bright light, groaning audibly from displeasure.
" Is this what Heaven is? A constant parade of blinding light?" He mumbled, and the Heavenly being chuckled. Opening his eyes, he saw a place he had all but forgotten.
His attic bedroom in his childhood home, as he had left it before fleeing. The mirrors set up in a maze of light before him, he squinted in remembrance.
" What is the meaning of this?" He asked, more bemused than enraged.
" Erik, in order to ease your harsh feelings, I'm going to show you all the things you have misunderstood in your life."
Erik looked about, picking up his old violin and plucking the strings. The room seemed smaller than it had when he was a child. When he was young, it was such a vast and empty space, and now it was nothing but a hole in the wall. Erik heard pounding up the stairs and the turning of the doorknob, his back arching like a stunned cat.
"Don't fret. No one can see you. It's just a time line of your life I am showing you now."
The door flew open and the figure of a young woman came inside. Her brown hair seemed faded and messy with sleep as she searched high and low with farther faded eyes.
"Erik!" Cried her voice, it's musical quality apparent in her sorrow. She clung to a handkerchief, her small hands beginning to pop with the veins of an age that she was not.
"Mother?" Erik whimpered, his long arms at his side in equanimity.
" Why...." Madeleine sunk to the wooden floor. Her slippered feet made a dainty scuffing sound, " Erik, my darling boy, why?"
" 'My darling boy'? Who is she trying to fool?"
" Hush" God said.
" I've frightened you away... If only I had realized sooner.... If only I could have been... Oh, Erik...." She seemed to wither right in front of his eyes. His hands reached out to touch but fell almost as instantaneously as they had rose.
" What made her change?" Erik asked of God, who's presence seemed tense in compassion and anguish.
" She realized after all her wrong, she loved you. That you were not a monster but her son." The Almighty intoned, it's voice soothing in it's androgyny. Erik watched her as she touched his bed sheets softly then suddenly recoiled, as if she seemed unfit to touch anything in the place he once dwelled. She walked despairingly toward the door, looking down as if she had heard their dog, Sasha. The dog had died the night before, and Madeleine whimpered pitifully as she closed the door and locked it. Erik's face portrayed a mixture of sadness and disbelief which looked mildly of disgust.
" Shall we continue on to your next memory?" God inquired, seeming to gear up of a change of scenery.
" I am not enjoying this." He pronounced sourly, his arms crossed casually in front of him. Erik could feel God smiling, but felt no inclination to smile back. Then the room seemed to be swept away like the desert sands in a brutish wind, only to resettle into a scene that was familiar.
" Italy. That...it's Giovanni's home..." Erik remarked, standing the garden as he looked all the way up to the roof from below. There, he saw the crumbling stones that Erik had said needed to be replaced over and over again during his stay with the old man.
" Inside, Erik. Go inside." God urged. Erik made brisk, elongated steps to the front door. Knocking wasn't necessary so Erik opened the door and stepped inside quietly. There, he saw the house as he had known it. Scanning the room, Erik spotted them, Giovanni and his youngest daughter Luciana by the basement door.
" I want to know him, Papa!" insisted the brat, tears ruining the front of her dress.
" Luciana, you must leave the boy in peace. He doesn't want to be bothered, especially by girls with no thoughts in their heads but selfish ones!" Giovanni retorted harshly. They stared at each other for a moment.
" Upstairs, darling." he stated more tenderly, to which the girl responed with obedience. Erik wanted to go to the man.
" You thought of his as a father, didn't you?"
" I assume that question is rhetorical, .... What should I call you?"
"Whatever you wish to, Erik." came it's reply. Erik thought about it but had no answer for God at the moment. Giovanni sat by the fire and picked up his glass of wine he had abandoned hours ago and drained it throughly. Erik placed a hand on Giovanni's shoulder, knowing he wouldn't feel the difference.
" Thank you, Sir." Erik managed, knowing that he wanted to say so much more. God called Erik back outside and with one last glance at the house he once called home, they were spirited away to another point in Erik's life.
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New chapter to come :)
Writing away,
Bella DeMuerte
