Salut and thanks so much for yor reviews. Finally I had the time and possibility to spell check chapters II and III. Hope you enjoy…

CHAPTER II

Month after this strange occasion I was still thinking of that voice. Maybe it was my own imagination, maybe it was my own mind playing a trick and I got insane because of the morphium, I thought. Nobody could ever know my name, nobody ever knew my name here in Paris.

I calmed down again, I played the organ, and I composed, but never left my apartment. I hardly took any nourishment, who ever read the books about my life knows, that I don't need a lot. Neither meals nor sleep. I hardly ever left my music room. My coffin lay empty. Yes, my coffin. To some of you this might seem strange, but inspired by my ugly appearance and my head, which did not show more features than a skull I was often considered the devil and somehow I found it fitting to not sleep in a bed, but in a black coffin with red velvet. Since I left my mothers house in agony, I developed this obsession. And I thought it was perfect for a living corpse to sleep in a coffin. A living corpse as I have always been. But this story has been told before, by much better writers than me. Let me continue mine.

My coffin lay empty, as I said. Untouched, unused by me for weeks. Maybe it was exhaustion, or the morphium, or the lack of morphium, as I started to run out, but I started to see things, I started to have hallucinations. Images, pictures of beauty and youth. I thought to see the picture of a young man with dark hair and a pale skin. Tall and slender with piercing beautiful eyes. If I would have a face! If I would have his face! I started to like this pretty invader. I grew to be obsessed by him, I got lonely when he was not there and wished for his company. I took more and more morphium to make sure of the hallucinations. I knew him not to be flesh and blood, but an imagination, a trick of mind, what else could he be. It was only once in a while that I saw him and always only a glimpse in the shadow. Always, apart from one time, when he lay in my coffin, sleeping, his tender arms crossed above his chest. This time he seemed so real, I thought I could touch him. But no, this was impossible; my alarm systems would have sounded should any human being cross my boarder. This man was not real, but more a sign that I needed more morphium. Indeed it ran out and I was forced to leave my realm and enter the upper world once more.

At this time I did not know, that both with and without morphium I was hallucinating. That my human mind was observed by the drug with or without it. And how close I was to get insane.

When I returned and injected the next portion I expected to see my young invader again. I waited to see him again. But I waited in vain. He was gone. My mind was even more blurred, than ever before, as I took more and more morphium to force my pretty one back, but there was no chance. He was gone and even more I believed him to be a trick of my mind

I lost the feeling for time and finally, my blood pumping the morphium through my veins, I lost my sense completely and exhaustion made me sleep. I did not make it to my coffin, but lay on the floor beside the organ. i My beautiful organ. /i

I must have slept for days. Enchanted by wonderful dreams, just as usual when I was under drug influence, but such a beauty, I had never known before. Full of atmosphere and music. What precious music that was! Played by enchanted hands. Floating, falling with sweet intoxication. Like poison it ran through my body and lifted my sol gently. My organ, it played by invisible force. On and on the notes floated through the room. High pitched, dark and enormous.

Slowly I opened my eyes, still humming along. And there he was again. Captured by the notes the notes he played himself. His eyes closed, his hands floating over the keys, barely touching them, as it seemed. His feet powerfully pumping the pipes. The whole image mysterious, like a ghost, he appeared. How strange, a real ghost, playing the organ of the Opera Ghost.

And then I recognised the music. It was mine. My music that no one was to touch. My music that no one was to hear. Angry I crawled to my feet and reached out for him. My hand touched his shoulder slightly and I lost consciousness again. His starring eyes in front of my face faded and only half way I saw his tall figure bending over me, when I hit the floor.

When I woke up a while later, I found everything untouched, unchanged. I was alone. My music score set on the pile beside the organ, the instrument itself silent, as if never played. Tenderly I brushed my fingers over the keys and smiled. "So you found your way even to my dreams." I sat down and played.