A/N – All that Disclaimer
junk... this is based on Susan Kay's novel... etc., etc. Now, on this story: I don't know what got
into me. I've wanted to do a POTO story
forever, but I just couldn't think of one.
I had been toying around with title ever since I read The Phantom, and then all the words for
this just popped into my head! I had to
hurry and write them all down before they disappeared. My memory's gotten a little rusty since I
last read the book, so I forgot the dog's name.
And the dad's, so I just guessed.
If anyone knows them, please tell me and I'll change it. I hope you like the end result of my labors.
*
* * * *
I stand at the window, watching the rain run down the
windowpane, and, for the thousandth time, wonder how Erik is doing. Ever since he ran away, I've been thinking…
In a way, once you got past the mask and the face
beneath it, he was beautiful. It's a wonder I didn't see it before. Every time he sat at the piano, preparing to
play a piece… the way he held himself, so full of dignity… And oh… when he
smiled… he rarely ever did, which I suppose was my fault, but, when Sandra ran
off and he panicked, and I found her under the porch, the smile of relief he
gave me left me dizzy! If only he had
been born normal....
No. I mustn't think like that. It's selfish, and
I know it. But, still..... if only...
Sometimes I dream of him at night, standing over my
bed, watching me through the eyeholes of his mask. Just watching. Other times, I dream I hear him at the piano,
playing one of his own compositions and singing to himself in Latin. Still other times, He, Charles and I are
playing in a field of daisies, chasing each other around and laughing, having a
wonderful time. They all seem so real,
and it always hurts to wake up......
I know I am dying.
I can feel it in every bone of my body.
I am fearful, like any good Christian, but I admit to a bit of longing,
a wish to leave this tired old body behind, to set off for greener pastures.... There is also remorse.... Sadness at never
telling Erik that I do, in a way, love him.....
I know he has every right to despise me, and I accept
that fact. I treated him terribly, like
an animal, and never once took care of him.
He may never forgive me, and I know I will never forgive myself, but one
must always hope....
Maybe, before I die, he will decide to
visit his childhood home, to see
if things have changed... Maybe I'll get one last chance to talk to him... To
say what I have longed to tell him all these years...
But, if
not....
I love you, Erik......
