Hi all! Sorry for such a long wait! Just so you know I will be writing until chapter nine...then you must wait again... :( sorry...it is just this new pattern I am trying to do to try and organize my stories...
I am adding two new chapters, they are not as long as I would have liked also they may have some mispelled or bad grammar so please bear with me...
Please enjoy!
Chapter 4: A Walk Around History
How long have I been walking is unknown, to me it seems like days, but in fact it may have only been a few hours.
Why have I gone walking around Paris in shadows? Why have I obeyed Demetrius and looked back at what will soon become past?
What did that even mean?
His words, I understood them but did not. Was that even possible? Yes, I want it all, for once I want to be loved, and for once I want to be wanted. To be yearned for.
Could he truly give me all that I want? Unfortunately I believed him. I believed it so much I wanted nothing more but to run back to the cemetery.
I shook my baffled thoughts away as I came across the ally where I met little Lynette. The small beautiful child is what I named her. The small, beautiful child whose first words were words of concern. The small, beautiful child who had a smile that will never fail to bring warmth. The small, beautiful child that made me laugh. The small, beautiful child I will never forget.
I walked on.
I walked past the whore house, the whore house I was thrown out of. I walked past the bar, the bar I had drank in all by myself in shadows. I suddenly found myself somewhere familiar. Some would say familiarity is a great thing, it brings good feelings. Yet that was not the familiarity I wished for. The one I had, the one that burned me, I wanted to destroy it.
I placed my fedora more secure over my head; I moved my scarf more on my face and made my way toward The Opera Populair.
The silly chattering of rich folks reached my ears. How glad they were that The Phantom of the Opera was now gone, banished from the nearly ruined house of beauty and music. I shook my head and moved past them in the darkness.
At times I found myself glancing up to see if a face I knew was around, yet I would just sigh and continue in disappointment. Christine was gone.
I was now in a dark secluded area, I could hardly hear the voices of the rich. I searched for the small opening Mme. Giry led me to when I was little to escape from the freak show. The dirty colorful glass caught my attention and I sighed as I made my way toward it. Thankfully it has not been disturbed by others, I thought as I slowly slid through. I climbed in easily without making any noise. All that could be heard was the dripping of water somewhere. I jumped from the ledge and landed on my feet with a slight grunt. I turned and gently closed the window. A slight gust of wind came in and I realized it was not caused by the window.
Whoever was behind me cocked their pistol with shaky hands. I sighed and slowly turned. My breath was caught as Mme. Giry came into view.
If I did not know any better I would say she looks like a ghost. Her eyes, they held no life. The circles around them told me she hasn't slept for days. Her skin was not the pale I would have liked seeing. Instead it was more then pale, pure white. A phantom's color.
"Antoinette," I whispered taking a step forward. She held her pistol higher.
"Do not come any closer!" She hissed at me. I frowned in confusion as I saw her whole body shaking with fright. "Tell me the truth Erik, is she alive?" Her voice was shaky yet firm. I frowned even more and nearly chocked as I almost forgot my Christine.
"Yes Antoinette. She is safe." I answered her. She gave a sigh of relief as she lowered her pistol only an inch.
"And De Chagney?" She demanded more firm. I glared at her yet I answered none the less.
"He is with Christine, un harmed." I said grimly. Mme. Giry lowered her pistol fully now. Her eyes now held anger and she rushed to me. I stood in one place not knowing what to do. Needing to know what she was going to do. She stopped in front of me; there was no more anger in her eyes. Only confusion and pity. She then gently places a hand upon mine and caresses it. She now focuses on my palm; she studies its lines of hatred, rage, and heart-ach, everything tragic.
She closes her eyes and glances away, a single tear travels down her cheek and she drops my hand. She stares in to my eyes, and with a single motion, her hand slaps my deformed cheek. Why? There were so many reasons, reasons I wish not to list.
I hiss in pain yet I do nothing, I do not hit her back. I do no such terrible action to Mme. Giry, the once was young lady who saved the helpless young monster in a cage.
"Why have you come back," she demands holding back tears. You always were strong Mme. Giry.
"You would not understand my reason if I told you Antoinette," I slowly tell her glancing away.
I know she frowns; even if I don't look at her…I know she's frowning.
I hear her sigh, she wants to ask me more questions, but she knows I will not answer. She has always known this. I heave a small sigh.
"I will be gone soon Antoinette, you won't ever see me again after that." I said making my way to the door. I made a quick glimpse behind my shoulder. Mme. Giry was not looking at me, she was no longer frowning. She in a way knows what will happen.
Thank you Antoinette Giry, thank you so much. Thank you for the kindness I needed, the discipline, the small tiny love that you tried constantly to give me. Thank you. Goodbye.
I walked where no one could see through the ruined Opera halls, the smell of burnt wood reached me and I just sighed before shaking my head. I caused that smell; I caused these once beautiful halls to be filled with black smudges of sadness and fear. I have ruined everything.
I made my way toward Christine's dressing room. As I glanced inside I was glad to see no fire has reached its doors. Yet it was empty, no maids or butler's were there to clean like usual. There were no fresh pink flowers to fill the room. There was nothing. There was no Christine.
I walked in; a sudden shudder went all around. I was not welcome here. That feeling will never leave me. I made my way to the mirror, the mirror that guided my love to our sanctuary of music. I found the small button that unlocked the mirror, I slid it to the side and as I was about to enter I stopped. A small object caught my eye. I glanced on Christine's desk, there laid a crimson rose with the black ribbon. The first gift I gave her after her grand performance. I did not want to be reminded of my past; I was soon to have new memories. Ones that did not involve Christine. But I found myself reaching out for the small rose. I picked it up swiftly and placed it gently in my pocket.
I entered the mirror and closed it behind me. I marched down the path to darkness. Down the path leading to a hell that was born when I was born. A hell that has been waiting for me for eleven years. Once that hell found me, it consumed me. Over the years, my hell has gotten worse. It over powered me in a way I thought it never could. It created a real monster.
Without realizing I found myself in front of the gondola, I stepped in and began to roll my way more into the darkness. Through the pure black water I pushed myself toward that place, that one place I have never forgotten. The lair I wrote music in, music that expressed my true self. My true yearnings.
I stepped off the gondola, as soon as my two feet made contact with the stone I stopped. I couldn't move. I took in the sight, papers everywhere, furniture destroyed.
The mob took all valuable items that I had, items that I collected over the years, items I have made since a small child. I took another step and stopped, I glanced at my organ. It was dusty with neglect; its beautiful wood ruined by god knows what. I took another step and stopped, I glanced at my music. Thrown about all around, but the same.
I was now able to take as many steps as I wanted; they traveled all over the once magical lair. I traveled to the area where I built, sewn, drew all of the things I needed during my time at the Opera. My drawings of Christine were surprisingly untouched, my clothes were untouched as well; my miniature stage of Don Juan Triumphant was of course the way I left it. Burnt down just like the once glorious stage above.
I traveled to my room; the black swan divan was untouched. Just like the rest all valuable items were taken, taken or destroyed. Anger that still lingered in my soul was slowly building up, but it descended. I kept one thing in mind. This will soon be past.
I glanced at the place where my music box once stood, it was gone. This will soon be past.
I stared at the area where I kept my violin, it was gone. This will soon be past.
I glanced on the bed I made for Christine, she was not in it. She was gone. This will soon be past.
I left my room; there was nothing for me here now, not any more. This will soon be past.
I gathered only my cloak and as I neared the gondola I found myself stopping turning toward the music scattered all over the ground. Don Juan Triumphant still lives. Should I take it with me? Should I take it to remind me of what I should never do again? It is my best piece. My last great piece to remember forever.
This will soon be past.
I know...sorry!
Please Please Please Review!!!!!
Crys A.
"Life is a mask, its our job to take it off and discover the journey behind it not in front for there is nothing there but a mask"
