Lalalalalalala- Oh howdy folks. Sorry this took so long to write out but two major things happened to me. An email- which made me go back and change a few things that if you have not dully noted then you might get a little bit confused. And two- while I was on my tenth page of writting I decided to quit for the day. Then, the next day, when I went to open it I clicked the icon instead of going to file- open and accidentally clicked "Save as" without noticing so when I clicked to open my file- guess what I did? That's RIGHT, kiddies- I saved a blank document over all my work and lost the whole entire chapter I had been working on! Ah- anyway- I've worked hard on it and I hope you like it.
Disclaimer: blah blah blah….
Chapter Four: Let the dream descend…
A memory of Christine's-
"Papa, what is that?" said a seven-year-old Christine pointing at the red-rimmed moon.
Daae stops playing the violin to gaze upon what his daughters tiny finger is pointing at. When he sees it, he frowns. "That is blood on the moon, Christine. I means something bad will or has happened."
"Oh papa, will anything bad happen to us?" innocent Christine asked.
"I sure hope not, honey," he picked up his violin. "I sure hope not." He began to play.
*
Christine gazed up at the yellow moon, which was rimmed with an orange red ring.
"Blood on the moon," whispered she into the dark, silent night.
~ Something bad will or has happened ~… to Marguerite. Her mothers gut twisted with the knowledge she felt, she knew… something…
"CHRISTINE!" A voice slurred.
**Oh no…**
Something was happening and it wasn't good.
The door crashed open and there he was, her wonderful husband.
He pointed a wavering finger at her, "You fucking whore! I'm gonna teach you a lesson for cheatin' on me!"
He shot out at her and grabbed her arm. He practically threw her on the bed and he pulled his fist back…
**Oh, maybe it wont be that bad…**
*
An hour later he was out until noon the next day. Still cautious though, Christine slipped out of his arms, out of their silk silver sheets, out of their room, and onto their balcony. She looked down at the white marble at her bare feet; it was cold. But that was okay, the white railing beneath her hands was too. She looked back into her room, it was well furnished. It had white chairs, white carpeting, and white walls. Everywhere white white white, to cover the evil darkness that really lurked within. It made her sick.
She sat down in the wicker chair in the corner of the balcony to look out at the lush green fields below. The grass was covered lightly with frost. Wait, of course it is, it's mid-December. Almost Christmas…
**When did things get so bad?**
She could remember the first time she had seen Raoul so VICIOUS…
Christine was sewing in the study. She sat in front of the fire in her velvet lavander dress sewing away in her favorite maroon chair, in their study. And everything was perfect.
*CrasH*
patpatpatpatpatpatpat
Christine got up and stepped into the hallway to see what all the noise was about. A six-year-old Marguerite was bounding down the hallway, Raoul in harsh pursuit. But her blue dress was swaying a bit too low and her slippers were a bit too slick on the tile floor and she slipped. She got up quickly, but not quick enough to avoid Raoul's fist on her face. She was knocked into a near-by wall. Christine shied back into the room, head sticking out enough to see the rest of the occurrences. Marguerite attempted to get up on her hands and knees but Raoul kicked her in the ribs. That's when Christine broke out of her shock enough to make pretend she just stepped out of the study.
"What's going on here?"
Raoul looked like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "Well, you see Marguerite tripped and crashed into a statue. I attempted to help her up but she got scared and ran into this hallway where she slipped again. Isn't that right, Maggie?" He turned to be verified by his eldest daughter, but she wasn't there.
The sound of the front door shutting downstairs brought Raoul to the window at the end of the hallway. He watched Marguerite's tiny figure retreat into the snow infested ground in her light dress and cloak and seemed to wake from a dream.
"She'll freeze," he whispered. He went downstairs, put on his heavy cloak and followed, once more, in pursuit of her.
Christine waited in the window until two figures magically appeared. Raoul came up the steps shouting "call the doctor". Marguerite was unconscious in his arms, wrapped in Raoul's dark cloak, shaking, wet, and turning a light shade of blue. Whether it was from the cold or the bruise that was forming there, Christine was not sure.
Taking command, Christine redirected Raoul into Marguerite's room. The happy room filled with royal blues and rose reds felt unfit for the situation. Raoul turned his head as Christine stripped their young yet eldest daughter of all her soaking garments and replacing them with a dry nightgown before shoving her under layers and layers of rich blue blankets. Raoul started a fire to warm her. Then they sat and watched.
It took the doctor two hours to get there and an hour for him to check over Marguerite. Christine sat in Marguerite's favorite reading chair while she waited. It was in the study and it fit right in. A birch wood rocking chair. And Christine sat in the chair and waited, rocking back and forth back and forth back and forth…
Jillian, only three, had woken up from her daily nap and had settled silently in her mothers lap, waiting, for her "sissy" to be all better. Raoul had been pacing the whole floor, waiting, for the doctor to motion them in. Christine just rocked back and forth, waiting, to wake up from this horrid dream she was having.
And the doctor emerged. He explained that the "little one" should wait outside because it may be contagious. Jillian was ready to throw a fit until she saw her daddy's face, then she just nodded and went into her room, to wait.
And Christine walked in, and saw her first baby, so pale, so small… she's only five… she's still a baby…
Marguerite's long dark hair contrasted greatly to her pallor visage making her face appear even whiter, if that was possible. The violet surroundings made her seem so small, so lost in the blue waves about her.
The doctor kindly directed them to a cluster of royal blue chairs in front of the fire.
"Could you tell me ever so kindly what happened?"
"Well," Raoul piped up before Christine could even process the question. "You know children. She was running around the house and I told her to stop. She tripped and fell into a statue and I yelled at her for being so careless. She was so scared that she ran off, and went near the little lake we have nearby. I followed her and saw her standing on the ice. I yelled at her to come back but she didn't listen and she fell through."
"Well, that answers a lot of questions. Marguerite has gotten a rash fever from the ice. And the good news is that she should get better."
"Oh thank the saints," said Raoul sitting back like everything was now well and dandy.
"But there is bad news. The fever that she has caught sometimes leaves side effects. She may have weaker organs or even bones. Only time will tell how the illness has treated her body…."
…AND she had gotten better. It had taken her a month until she was into full power again. But her lungs were never the same…
Marguerite… the only other time she had been so nervous about her daughter's health is when she had been a month early when she had gone into labor. WAIT- the doctor had said that she was right on time. But that is impossible, the first time that she and Raoul had had sexual intercourse was eight months before, so how could-
…oh no…
A month before she and Raoul had actually had sex, she had gone to the graveyard to pray for guidance. That's when Erik had come under the guise of her angel to trick her into coming with him. But Raoul had stopped him from taking her away. Afterwards though, she had gone through the mirror to Erik's lair. And she had prayed for forgiveness, for everything she had done… and he had forgiven her. She had been so happy that she had kissed him. And then they had kissed again and again and one thing lead to another and well…
…9-8-7-6…
Marguerite isn't Raoul's daughter, she's Erik's!
*
Erik slipped quietly from Marguerite's room. She was sleeping in Christine's old room but since she hadn't made use of it for thirteen years, he figured she wouldn't mind. But he was exhausted. After administering the herbs and sleeping drugs for Marguerite Erik was ready to sleep. Not even bothering to get undressed, Erik removed his cloak and mask and fell asleep in his coffin.
He dreamt back to his first meeting with MARGUERITE…
~ Marguerite… ~
The brush froze in her hair, "Who's there?"
~ An angel… ~
She took the gold brush from her long raven locks, "The angel? The Angel of Music?"
~ Yes… ~
"You've come to teach me, Angel?" she sat up straight and looked toward the heavens.
~ Yes child, I have ~
"Oh, thank you, Angel! When do we start…?"
**I remember that, I hadn't really respected her until one meeting with her, two weeks later…**
They had stopped briefly for a water break after Marguerite went into a sudden coughing fit.
"Angel, why do you spend time with me?"
~ You are exceptional ~
"But I'm not special at all. The kids at my own age wouldn't even… not without being proddded by their mothers. I was pitied. I don't even have any friends. And now, my family doesn't even want to keep me. Meg is nice. But I'm, we're so distant. No one understands me, I barely do," she sniffles before shaking her head and smiling weakly. "Anyway, no self pity sessions. We are here to sing."
~ But child, you look ready to cry ~
She suddenly looked mad and slammed her fist down on her vanity, "NO! I refuse to cry! I will NOT cry. There are millions of people out there more unfortunate than I am."
There was a pause before,
~ Why do you keep going then? ~
"Because Angel, life isn't going to just going to hand you what you want, hand you your dreams. You've got to fight hand and neck for it. You've got to grit your teeth and plow through every single hardship and pain. But it all pays off in the end."
~ What do you want? ~
"For those I care about to be happy," she smiled a bit. "But being a diva wouldn't hurt. Now, may we continue with my lessons?"
~ There's something you're not telling me ~
"About what, Angel?"
~ There's something you are not telling me about your past… ~
Her eyes widened before she turned away. She played with the lace on the corner of her fog gray dress. She looked up and opened her mouth, changed her mind, and shut it with an abrupt snap. Then she-
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!"
A loud scream tore through his dream making Erik jump from his coffin. Realizing that it was coming from Marguerite's room, he hurried to find her.
*****He is here all around me! He's going to catch me! He'll never let me go! He's got me he's got me!
He'sgoingtokillmeHe'sgoingtokillmeohgodinheavensavemesavemesaveme!
"Marguerite, wake UP!"*****
She opened her eyes to find a man looming over her. The last thing she could remember was someone carrying her into a dark corridor. That's when something clicked. She knew that this had been the angelic tutor her mother had spoken of.
"Erik."
That's when she noticed. His mask… he wasn't wearing it.
Disclaimer: blah blah blah….
Chapter Four: Let the dream descend…
A memory of Christine's-
"Papa, what is that?" said a seven-year-old Christine pointing at the red-rimmed moon.
Daae stops playing the violin to gaze upon what his daughters tiny finger is pointing at. When he sees it, he frowns. "That is blood on the moon, Christine. I means something bad will or has happened."
"Oh papa, will anything bad happen to us?" innocent Christine asked.
"I sure hope not, honey," he picked up his violin. "I sure hope not." He began to play.
*
Christine gazed up at the yellow moon, which was rimmed with an orange red ring.
"Blood on the moon," whispered she into the dark, silent night.
~ Something bad will or has happened ~… to Marguerite. Her mothers gut twisted with the knowledge she felt, she knew… something…
"CHRISTINE!" A voice slurred.
**Oh no…**
Something was happening and it wasn't good.
The door crashed open and there he was, her wonderful husband.
He pointed a wavering finger at her, "You fucking whore! I'm gonna teach you a lesson for cheatin' on me!"
He shot out at her and grabbed her arm. He practically threw her on the bed and he pulled his fist back…
**Oh, maybe it wont be that bad…**
*
An hour later he was out until noon the next day. Still cautious though, Christine slipped out of his arms, out of their silk silver sheets, out of their room, and onto their balcony. She looked down at the white marble at her bare feet; it was cold. But that was okay, the white railing beneath her hands was too. She looked back into her room, it was well furnished. It had white chairs, white carpeting, and white walls. Everywhere white white white, to cover the evil darkness that really lurked within. It made her sick.
She sat down in the wicker chair in the corner of the balcony to look out at the lush green fields below. The grass was covered lightly with frost. Wait, of course it is, it's mid-December. Almost Christmas…
**When did things get so bad?**
She could remember the first time she had seen Raoul so VICIOUS…
Christine was sewing in the study. She sat in front of the fire in her velvet lavander dress sewing away in her favorite maroon chair, in their study. And everything was perfect.
*CrasH*
patpatpatpatpatpatpat
Christine got up and stepped into the hallway to see what all the noise was about. A six-year-old Marguerite was bounding down the hallway, Raoul in harsh pursuit. But her blue dress was swaying a bit too low and her slippers were a bit too slick on the tile floor and she slipped. She got up quickly, but not quick enough to avoid Raoul's fist on her face. She was knocked into a near-by wall. Christine shied back into the room, head sticking out enough to see the rest of the occurrences. Marguerite attempted to get up on her hands and knees but Raoul kicked her in the ribs. That's when Christine broke out of her shock enough to make pretend she just stepped out of the study.
"What's going on here?"
Raoul looked like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "Well, you see Marguerite tripped and crashed into a statue. I attempted to help her up but she got scared and ran into this hallway where she slipped again. Isn't that right, Maggie?" He turned to be verified by his eldest daughter, but she wasn't there.
The sound of the front door shutting downstairs brought Raoul to the window at the end of the hallway. He watched Marguerite's tiny figure retreat into the snow infested ground in her light dress and cloak and seemed to wake from a dream.
"She'll freeze," he whispered. He went downstairs, put on his heavy cloak and followed, once more, in pursuit of her.
Christine waited in the window until two figures magically appeared. Raoul came up the steps shouting "call the doctor". Marguerite was unconscious in his arms, wrapped in Raoul's dark cloak, shaking, wet, and turning a light shade of blue. Whether it was from the cold or the bruise that was forming there, Christine was not sure.
Taking command, Christine redirected Raoul into Marguerite's room. The happy room filled with royal blues and rose reds felt unfit for the situation. Raoul turned his head as Christine stripped their young yet eldest daughter of all her soaking garments and replacing them with a dry nightgown before shoving her under layers and layers of rich blue blankets. Raoul started a fire to warm her. Then they sat and watched.
It took the doctor two hours to get there and an hour for him to check over Marguerite. Christine sat in Marguerite's favorite reading chair while she waited. It was in the study and it fit right in. A birch wood rocking chair. And Christine sat in the chair and waited, rocking back and forth back and forth back and forth…
Jillian, only three, had woken up from her daily nap and had settled silently in her mothers lap, waiting, for her "sissy" to be all better. Raoul had been pacing the whole floor, waiting, for the doctor to motion them in. Christine just rocked back and forth, waiting, to wake up from this horrid dream she was having.
And the doctor emerged. He explained that the "little one" should wait outside because it may be contagious. Jillian was ready to throw a fit until she saw her daddy's face, then she just nodded and went into her room, to wait.
And Christine walked in, and saw her first baby, so pale, so small… she's only five… she's still a baby…
Marguerite's long dark hair contrasted greatly to her pallor visage making her face appear even whiter, if that was possible. The violet surroundings made her seem so small, so lost in the blue waves about her.
The doctor kindly directed them to a cluster of royal blue chairs in front of the fire.
"Could you tell me ever so kindly what happened?"
"Well," Raoul piped up before Christine could even process the question. "You know children. She was running around the house and I told her to stop. She tripped and fell into a statue and I yelled at her for being so careless. She was so scared that she ran off, and went near the little lake we have nearby. I followed her and saw her standing on the ice. I yelled at her to come back but she didn't listen and she fell through."
"Well, that answers a lot of questions. Marguerite has gotten a rash fever from the ice. And the good news is that she should get better."
"Oh thank the saints," said Raoul sitting back like everything was now well and dandy.
"But there is bad news. The fever that she has caught sometimes leaves side effects. She may have weaker organs or even bones. Only time will tell how the illness has treated her body…."
…AND she had gotten better. It had taken her a month until she was into full power again. But her lungs were never the same…
Marguerite… the only other time she had been so nervous about her daughter's health is when she had been a month early when she had gone into labor. WAIT- the doctor had said that she was right on time. But that is impossible, the first time that she and Raoul had had sexual intercourse was eight months before, so how could-
…oh no…
A month before she and Raoul had actually had sex, she had gone to the graveyard to pray for guidance. That's when Erik had come under the guise of her angel to trick her into coming with him. But Raoul had stopped him from taking her away. Afterwards though, she had gone through the mirror to Erik's lair. And she had prayed for forgiveness, for everything she had done… and he had forgiven her. She had been so happy that she had kissed him. And then they had kissed again and again and one thing lead to another and well…
…9-8-7-6…
Marguerite isn't Raoul's daughter, she's Erik's!
*
Erik slipped quietly from Marguerite's room. She was sleeping in Christine's old room but since she hadn't made use of it for thirteen years, he figured she wouldn't mind. But he was exhausted. After administering the herbs and sleeping drugs for Marguerite Erik was ready to sleep. Not even bothering to get undressed, Erik removed his cloak and mask and fell asleep in his coffin.
He dreamt back to his first meeting with MARGUERITE…
~ Marguerite… ~
The brush froze in her hair, "Who's there?"
~ An angel… ~
She took the gold brush from her long raven locks, "The angel? The Angel of Music?"
~ Yes… ~
"You've come to teach me, Angel?" she sat up straight and looked toward the heavens.
~ Yes child, I have ~
"Oh, thank you, Angel! When do we start…?"
**I remember that, I hadn't really respected her until one meeting with her, two weeks later…**
They had stopped briefly for a water break after Marguerite went into a sudden coughing fit.
"Angel, why do you spend time with me?"
~ You are exceptional ~
"But I'm not special at all. The kids at my own age wouldn't even… not without being proddded by their mothers. I was pitied. I don't even have any friends. And now, my family doesn't even want to keep me. Meg is nice. But I'm, we're so distant. No one understands me, I barely do," she sniffles before shaking her head and smiling weakly. "Anyway, no self pity sessions. We are here to sing."
~ But child, you look ready to cry ~
She suddenly looked mad and slammed her fist down on her vanity, "NO! I refuse to cry! I will NOT cry. There are millions of people out there more unfortunate than I am."
There was a pause before,
~ Why do you keep going then? ~
"Because Angel, life isn't going to just going to hand you what you want, hand you your dreams. You've got to fight hand and neck for it. You've got to grit your teeth and plow through every single hardship and pain. But it all pays off in the end."
~ What do you want? ~
"For those I care about to be happy," she smiled a bit. "But being a diva wouldn't hurt. Now, may we continue with my lessons?"
~ There's something you're not telling me ~
"About what, Angel?"
~ There's something you are not telling me about your past… ~
Her eyes widened before she turned away. She played with the lace on the corner of her fog gray dress. She looked up and opened her mouth, changed her mind, and shut it with an abrupt snap. Then she-
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!"
A loud scream tore through his dream making Erik jump from his coffin. Realizing that it was coming from Marguerite's room, he hurried to find her.
*****He is here all around me! He's going to catch me! He'll never let me go! He's got me he's got me!
He'sgoingtokillmeHe'sgoingtokillmeohgodinheavensavemesavemesaveme!
"Marguerite, wake UP!"*****
She opened her eyes to find a man looming over her. The last thing she could remember was someone carrying her into a dark corridor. That's when something clicked. She knew that this had been the angelic tutor her mother had spoken of.
"Erik."
That's when she noticed. His mask… he wasn't wearing it.