A/N: Well Merry Christmas Eve everybody! Let's get to writing!
Once again, Erik's head was throbbing. Time traveling really isn't my forte….I'll be damned, it's 3 o'clock. He did a double take at the clock.
"3 o'clock? That means…the last spirit." He said the last words as if it was the name of his executioner.
The wind whirled as fog blew in from no where. It had suddenly become unbearably cold that sent foreboding feelings down Erik's spine.
A dark figure loomed in from the shadows, it was the shadows! It was shrouded in black, all but its fearful hands that had one morbid finger at Erik; a hood covered its face.
The spirit said nothing as it approached Erik. Even with his cat like eyes glowing in the black, Erik could not tell the difference between the darkness and the ghost but inches away from his face.
He gathered up every once of courage in his body and spoke. "Am I in the presence of the Ghost of Christmas Future?"
The spirit nodded gravely, but remained silent.
"I fear you most of all, spirit. Please, will you not speak to me?"
Again the ghost did not utter a sound but only pointed a finger to the window.
"I know time is precious to me and you are here to do me well, lead on spirit!"
The wind gushed again spending them traveling through time and space.
The spirit and he found themselves in a familiar part of town. Above them stood the opera house, as dreary and vacant as Erik had seen it in the present. Something had changed though. Across the top of the main entrance's arch was banner. In thick red letters was the phrase:
PUBLIC AUCTION TODAY
The spirit pointed towards the entrance and, in a flash, they were inside.
Much more had changed in the once proud opera house. The seats, once a brilliant blood red, had become moth eaten until it became a maggoty brown color. Everything was charred and falling apart which made the scene most unpleasant for any civilized creature to be in. Yet, there were creatures in there! Three gentlemen and a lady to be exact.
A fat one was behind a large podium calling out numbers. Erik assumed that he was the auctioneer of the event.
"Lot 665, ladies and
gentlemen," he boomed, "a papier-mâché musical box,
in the shape of a barrel-organ. Attached, the figure of a monkey
in Persian robes playing the cymbals. This item, discovered in the
vaults of a dead man's flat, still in working order."
Another man stepped up with the described item. "Showing here."
The monkey began to clap its symbols together as a haunting tune that was not so strange to Erik and began to sing softly along.
Masquerade
Paper faces on parade
Masquerade
Find your face so the world will never find you
"Spirit, they do they have my music box? I am not dead, am I?"
The spirit did not answer, but merely pointed to auctioneer who had just banged his gavel.
"Sold for thirty francs to the Vicomte De Changy. Thank you, sir"
It was not, though, Raoul who approached the auctioneer with the profit, but Meg Giry. Her pretty face was veiled and frowning with tear stained cheeks.
Erik followed her with his eyes and saw that she had handed his music box to a man sitting in a chair. He had his face in his hand so it was impossible to tell for sure who he was. Erik had assumed it was Raoul, of course.
"Why are they in mourning, spirit? Where is Christine-" He did not need to answer the sentence for before he could, he received an answer.
The spirit and he were no longer in the decaying opera house but in a grave yard. There was Raoul hunched over a tombstone, blocking the inscription, and placing the monkey musical box at the base. He walked away solemnly with Meg at his heels, hand on shoulder.
Once more, the spirit directed his accursed finger to the tombstone. The dust and mold flew off exposing the cold, unforgiving stone with the engraved name:
CHRISITNE DAAE
1854-1874
COUNTESS DE CHANGY
BELOVED WIFE AND FRIEND
Erik had known that the truth was coming once Bouquet told him, but he did not want to believe it.
"No, spirit, no! Please say that this isn't true!"
The spirit stood there, starring, unmercifully.
Never in his life had he felt so helpless. His body slumped to the ground in uncontrollable sobs. Shaking, he reached into his waist coat pocket and pulled out a rose with the very ring he had given her. Moaning from the pain he was feeling, Erik reached a far as he could from where he laid and dropped the rose on the base of his beloved Christine's grave.
Like a snake, crawled on his belly to the feet of the cloaked spirit.
"Answer me this!" he half screamed half chocked, "are these the shadows of what will happen or what may happen?"
More silence.
"Answer me, please! I-I will keep Christmas in my heart all year round! I'll live in the past, present, and the future just so long as the writing may be erased from that horrible stone!"
Silence.
"Answer me, damn you! Damn you! Let her live! For God's sake, let her live!" In a fury, he sprang to his feet and rushed full speed at the unmoving specter. With all his strength, he ripped the hood from the spirit's head to show no other than his own, unmasked face.
What seemed to thousands of voices suddenly flooded around him.
Nadir's voice. "You must see the harm you have done. It may be painful at times, but it must me done!
Christine's. "But I did kill his heart, and from that, I do believe that he will die. My life these past few months has been almost like an opera. So very dramatic my life has been…but the real tragedy of this opera is that I loved him back."
Antoinette. "You drove her away like that."
Bouquet. "Mousier Phantom!"
"She's sick, Mousier Phantom, and has been for quite some time. My realm lies in the Present, but if these shadows remain unaltered, I believe that she will die."
Christine's again. "You abandoned me! Don't leave me alone in the dark!"
"No, I won't! I promise! I swear!" Erik screamed, eyes snapped tight.
Then there was silence, deafening silence.
Do forgive me if there's some errors, I didn't have enough time to edit as thoroughly as I would have liked to.
