Surprise!

It's been a few years now, hasn't it? I've been working on a graphic novel with a co-author since my last update - an original piece that I've poured my every ounce of creative energy. I'm a stay at home mom these days. My daughter is now five years old and started kindergarten in September... and that's it. Nothing more to tell.

I left you all hanging for an unfair amount of time, but I will never forget about this story. I've missed it. It's a real shame that I'm picking this back up for such a negative chapter. Keep hanging on and thank you for your support!

-Christine-

The apple tree behind Erik turned baron, and although all his mysterious light was snuffed out the moon allowed me to see that his black ribbon was missing from it. The path was gone, and the meadow unkempt like he'd never set foot there before. It was barely even a meadow anymore, but a soggy and stagnant marsh seemingly choked out by an endless cage of thorny black vines and sour fog. In the same moment, all surrounding ambient noises fell into the sort of silence in which one could hear a pin drop... so quiet that I could hear nothing more than the sound of my own madly beating heart thundering in my ears as I stared at his face, gasping for air that felt all at once as thick and black as tar. His unmasking cast a veil of hideous and depressive death over everything.

I wanted to cover my eyes if only to protect him from my adverse reaction - to save him from having to see me despair at his expense, but it was too late. When he lifted his mask away from his cheek... heaven help me, I did not have the willpower to avert my gaze.

Where the hollow of his cheek should have been smooth and healthy there was raw, angry looking sinew, and the skin beneath his right eye sagged loose and low. Like a mold made out of candle wax held near flame for too long, he looked as though he was melting, heinously burned, or deathly diseased and highly contagious.

"My God..." I dropped to my knees into the cold and damp, wrapping my hands around the base of my throat as I suffocated against my will. Was this the way he was forced to see the world without the seal of his mask? Surely I couldn't blame him now for his resistance to expose me to his torment. It was never a matter of keeping a secret due to a lack of trust. He'd been trying to save me from the trouble of trying to accept him in spite of his affliction, but my understanding wasn't enough to protect me from being overwhelmed by the madness of the grand sepulchral illusion cast over us. The darkness drowned and swallowed me whole.

I regained consciousness in the wee hours of the following morning safely tucked in my bed with Madame Giry hanging over me, watching me like she expected me to burst into a thousand pieces when I opened my eyes. She was still dressed in her pajama's from the night before, her face was ashen with worry, and her hands were wrapped so tightly around a glass of water that I could see the whites of her knuckles straining.

"Where - /how/...?" Jolting upright, my eyes immediately darted toward the mirror. It was closed. Erik was nowhere in sight. Had it all been a nightmare brought on by too much champagne? Did his proposal and unmasking ever take place? For the first time in my life I sincerely hoped that alcohol had gotten the better of me.

"You fell ill and he brought you back to the surface to recover," Giry explained, forcing the glass into my hands like a mother would, "He is very upset, Christine. I do not know what troubles him or what ails you, but I have not seen such darkness in him for as long as I have served him. I am afraid you will be risking your life by attempting to contact him again. He is a devil when he's angry, and this opera house will suffer for it."

Again I stole a glance at the mirror, only this time my eyes burned with tears that streamed silently down my cheeks, for it no longer brought me the same joy. No doubt it was locked, perhaps now barred by stone and mortar to keep me out. Worst of all, I knew he wasn't standing on the other side because I couldn't feel him there. His presence was gone from me, and I didn't know if I'd ever feel it again. I didn't know if I should be comforted or broken by his absence.

"Did you see - ?"

The Opera Ghost, Erik, my angel of music lived with a curse so wicked that I could not look upon it with my mortal eyes without losing touch with reality. Did he think I believed that could not love him still? Could I? Should I? After all the games and deceit - knowing of his magic and curse, how could I know how much of who I fell in love with was real? Was I under a spell all these years? Our bond had always felt like the purest kind. I knew in my heart that I loved him, but was it because he wanted me to or because I wanted to? Confusion clouded my judgement and I was sure in this moment that I wanted to die.

"I don't know what I saw, but it wasn't the devil... it wasn't."