Chapter Three
Christine's POV..
Hope you guys like this one. Not much going on, but once she gets captured soon it'll start up
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I find needlework to be a very boring pastime.
Frankly, I'd rather be singing.
I sit by the fire the next day, working under Raoul's orders. I regret asking him what I could do to pass the slow, ticking time. I sigh softly and bring the needle in and out of the creamy linen, constructing something resembling a floral scene.
Will Raoul approve?
I work on the soft pink blossom, assembling the pattern very impassively. My face a blank mask, I continue, blocking out all other noises. Which is most likely why I don't hear him until he's a few mere inches away. "Christine?"
I look up, placing my needlework in my lap, "Bonjour, Raoul." I reply, with cheer.
"How's it coming along?" Raoul prompts.
I look down, and lift the pillowcase, "This is all I have so far.." I trail off as he stares at the single flower in the center, "Forgive my slow pace."
"No,no. It's just your first..you'll get faster. And better over time." Raoul smiles, and I feel guilty.
I nod, look down. He's gone by the time I lift my needle to the fabric and begin on a new one after threading the needle once again. I glance around. There's no one in the parlor except for myself. I slowly rise from the plush seat and take flight, moving swiftly and silently across. All those years of ballet have paid off, it seems. My strong legs are able to move as quietly.
I wince as my tight shoes pinch my toes. Why must I wear these shoes? These are fit for someone else, certainly not me. I'm more accustom to soft, painless ballet slippers or durable boots. I slide them from my feet and stuff them under the settee, and walk away.
I've been in this house for about a year now, and still haven't explored every inch, and probably never will. This house- if you can even address it with such a simple name- is the largest one I've ever been in. And, if you ask me, perhaps a bit too large..
I sneak around, slinking up stairs on feet as noiseless as a door mouse. I patter up the grand staircase, venturing further.
I go through all the doors, rooms, and secret places I think of. As soon as I exit one -particularly drab and dull-room, I take to the basement.
Perhaps I will find something engrossing hidden under the layers of floor..?
I move at a slow pace down the seemingly endless stairs, my feet creaking over the ancient boards. I lift a candle, one I retrieved moments ago from the kitchen, to shoulder level, and light it with a considerably small match.
As I end my stairway descent, I find the candle is running low on wax. The wick is just a stub, and the flame flickers and dances in the gloom. I kep my face lowered, exaiming various items: a book here, a doll there, and a few empty barrels that lay scattered across the dus-ridden floor. Something shiny catches my eye.
I raise my head, only to be met by an enormous spider spinning a web. It lands on my stomach. I am shocked, not scared like a ninny, to find it lying there, and my actions are provoked by the small arachnid. I stumble sideways and my head bumps into something hard. A few books fall, and the air produced by their downward movement blows my candle out in a haze of smoke and silence. I give out a sharp cry as something falls atop my skull.
The last thing I hear before falling to the floor and the world going black, is the Angel of Music, calling my name.
Ooh! What could that mean? I hope you all are as excited as I am! Please review. It would mean a lot.
Ghostly Melody~
