From birth it was evident Erik's life would be nurtured by bitterness, wrath, and shame. Both of his parents were young aristocrats, pampered by the admiration of high society. Once their son was born, however, their world of fortune and comfort was shattered. A child brings joy and pride to a house, but a monster brings only terror and disgust.
The village was mollified by its newest resident, and the townspeople came daily to attack the cursed house. After a week of being taunted, the young couple grew fearful for their lives. A gypsy caravan passed through the village, and Erik's father sold his only son to the band of vagrants for five francs.
The gypsy leader was greatly excited about his newest acquisition and looked upon the deformed child as an omen for his people. He bestowed the task of raising the infant on his daughter Shila, the most beautiful and highly prized young woman in the band.
Shila was the picture of youth and grace. Her tanned skin was soft and glowing, and she had silken hair of flowing raven. She was as gentle as she was lovely, and she was thrilled with her duty. Her father had not allowed her to marry until he could find an acceptable match for her, and she had desperately wished for something of her own to love. The unfortunate face meant little to her, and she loved and cared for Erik as she would have any other infant.
She raised him on goat's milk and affection, becoming known throughout the tribe as "the beautiful girl with the ugly child," Shila did not understand the repulsion of her family and friends, for she only saw beauty in the distorted little face. For hours she would sing to him, her silvery voice being the envy of the band. The others would listen and watch, shaking their heads at Shila's bliss. Many pitied her childlike innocence while they tersely awaited the day their fortune would be made.
When Erik was five, a determined Shila insisted on giving him a musical education. It was already evident that he had extraordinary vocal talent, and she knew he was destined for greatness. One day, as she was listening to him practice scales, a wise old woman stopped to speak to Shila. The woman was much respected in their circle, and she knew it was time someone told the girl the truth.
"Isn't he wonderful?" Shila exclaimed proudly after the last note had been issued.
"Yes, child," said the woman, her wrinkled brow heavy with the passing years. "Perhaps too wonderful for his own good."
Shila's dark eyes widened in sudden fear. "What do you mean, Madame Rosa?"
"Shila, do you know why your father bought Erik?"
Shila shook her head. "I only know how much I love him, and that I can never live without him."
"Your father bought him so he could do his own act at the fairs when he is older," Madame Rosa responded drearily.
"Oh, that would be perfect for him! Then everyone would see how talented Erik is!"
The old woman shook her withered head sadly. "He means for him to be a freak attraction."
Shila grabbed Erik's shoulder protectively. "Never!" she protested vehemently. "I will not allow my son to experience such horror!"
"Don't be ridiculous, Shila," Madame Rosa said. "You're young. Your father has finally arranged a marriage for you, and you can have your own children. Erik's act will make the whole camp rich."
"I don't want to get married," Shila announced angrily. "I'm perfectly happy. No one, not my father or anyone else, is going to take Erik away from me." With a toss of her vibrant raven hair, she took Erik's hand and strode to her tent.
Late that night, Shila made her escape. She packed their few belongings and awoke her sleepy son, desperate to find a place where they could once again live in peace. Moving quickly and quietly, they left the camp unnoticed and headed toward the forest.
Feeling protected in the deep wood, Shila let her guard down and sang softly with Erik in an attempt to keep him awake. They sang of better times to come, when there would be no need to run from anyone. They little knew that their beautiful music would be their undoing, as a small group of drunken men overheard them while camping in the wood.
Shila's voice dried in her throat when the three men approached her. Instinctively, she hid Erik behind her, but it was to no avail. The unfortunate child had already been seen.
One of the pigs, a grisly bearded man, whistled enthusiastically at poor Shila's beauty. His hand went to the knife in his belt, and he pointed it menacingly at her. "If you try to run, we'll hunt you down and kill you!"
Shila shook with terror. She knew there was no way she could flee from three men, and she was frightened for Erik's fate. She had little time to think, however, as one of the men grabbed her and forced her to the ground.
Erik cried out in horror, and a fat man tied his hand behind his back with rope. "We've got quite a specimen here, boys. We can sell him to that traveling freak show for a bundle, I bet."
In the meantime, the other two men were accosting a shrieking, struggling Shila, stabbing her brutally in front of the young boy who knew her as his mother. Erik was forced to stare in horror as Shila was murdered. Her sweet, young face, once so beautiful and gentle, was covered with blood and tears of pain.
The air deadened, and the dark, mystical eyes of the young gypsy girl closed eternally. Erik's last vision of his mother was the sight of her mutilated, bloody body being covered with dry leaves to be forgotten in the dreary wood.
At this point, Erik broke down with intense, shaking sobs of abysmal grief. I sat beside him in tears, wishing desperately I could erase that hideous memory from his mind.
"When I saw those men accosting you, I felt I was in that forest all over again," he declared between sobs. "In your eyes I could see my mother, so afraid and helpless. I have never, never understood how a man could attack a defenseless woman so violently. I don't think there is any crime more monstrous."
I took his hand and squeezed it compassionately. "Forgive me for making you tell me this," I said tearfully. "Please don't continue if it hurts you so much."
He looked up at me for a moment with a gentle smile. "This is painful, but I don't mind telling you, Christine. I feel you understand me, and no one except Shila has ever done that."
The three murderers did not bother to wait until morning to sell their latest find. They tromped into town and woke the owner of the infamous traveling freak circus, a harsh man who was no picture of beauty himself. Evan Chantier was known for his violent temper and cages of two-headed dogs and Siamese twins. One glance at Erik's malformed face brought a delighted, twisted smile to Evan's.
"I'll give you fifty francs," he offered quickly.
The overweight man was already handing Erik over to Evan, but the bearded crook halted. "Wait, Evan. He's not just ugly; he can sing. We need at least a hundred. Where else are you going to find a singing corpse?"
Evan snarled but handed over the money eagerly. He grabbed Erik's thin arm and shoved him into a cold, dirty cage. The boy cried bitterly, frightened and appalled by his gloomy fate.
"Shut up, you whimpering imbecile!" Evan growled and brought forth a large bull whip. With a loud crack, he lashed Erik mercilessly on his back. The force of the blow tore his shirt and deeply lacerated the child's thin skin. Blood streaked onto his hands which were still fastened behind his back, and he stifled a scream of agony.
"That'll teach you," Evan declared, pleased by the result. "This afternoon we'll see what that ugly little face will do for my business. A singing corpse is certain to make my fortune." He locked the cage nonchalantly and went to his tent, leaving Erik bleeding in the darkness.
Although being precocious for a five-year-old, the trauma Erik had experienced was far beyond his level of comprehension. The brutal assault and slaying of Shila was a memory that could never leave him, a recurring nightmare that would stalk him for the rest of his existence.
Erik's life was to only grow worse. For seven years he was put on display in Evan Chantier's freak show, treated no better than a zoo animal. Taunted, whipped, threatened, and feared, his daily routine consisted only of pain. His caged surroundings, however, did not limit the enormous capacity of his far-reaching mind. During his abuse and solitude he created for himself a dream world, one in which the power of music and intelligence surpassed the ugliness of his face. He would secretly work on his vocal training in the evening and early morning. Pure, clear, and expressive, he could sing in any octave. There was a mysterious undertone in his voice which lent it a slightly hypnotic quality, and he little knew how enrapturing his song could be.
One evening, Erik discovered the secret to the lock which held him captive in his filthy cage. He had mulled over the solution for years but had previously experienced nothing except defeat. When the camp had settle down for the night, he cautiously brought forth the small bits of sharp metal he had saved over time and went to work on the lock.
Within two minutes the door was open, and Erik stepped warily down from the cage. The sudden freedom excited him, and he ran quickly before anyone could notice his absence. He ran fast and furious, moving farther and farther away from the man who had humiliated, beaten, and caged him.
Destitute and lonely, Erik managed to survive eating the berries and fruits of the forests. With the dried leaves he fashioned a mask to hide himself, in a sense becoming a creature of the wild. He learned to fend for himself, knowing that the world of man would never accept him as a fellow human being.