MY SHINING LIGHT
The minute I heard her, I knew I would love her.
Her sweet, clear voice; her shy, coquettish face.
Those large green eyes framed by thick dark lashes.
Her innocent, deadly smiles... All this I love and more.
When I found her crying in her dressing room, my heart nearly broke in two.
I could not help myself.
I talked to her, comforted her.
Of course, I could not tell her who I was.
Posing as her Angel of Music, I found a way into her mind.
Though she was rather wary of me at first, she soon became enthralled with me, and my singing.
I gave her lessons to improve her voice.
Under my instruction, her voice bloomed like the beautiful flower she was.
I did not oppose her obsession with me; it in fact quite matched my obsession for her.
Late at night, when she was asleep, I would watch her.
Her pale skin white in the moonlight, with the moonbeams trickling across her dark ringlets.
Her eyelashes draped across her striking eyes, her slim hand beside her cheek.
A picture too lovely for words.
Surely this girl was more angel than woman.
And indeed, when I was through with her teaching, she had the voice of an angel to match.
I will never forget the night that witch Carlotta huffed off the stage, and allowed my darling to shine through.
She sang with passion, and abandon, and I knew that she was singing for me.
Just looking at her took my breath away.
But that young, lovesick fool had to come along.
His pretty face gave my voice competition, and in the end, I had to take Christine away from him.
I would have liked to give Christine more time before I exposed her to me, but the idiotic Vicomte gave me no choice.
I had to distract her before I lost her to him.
Indeed, my voice, so near her own ear, and my hands, roaming over her perfect body, distracted her.
However, my mask proved to be too much of a temptation for her.
Oh God, that I might forget her face as she unveiled my hideousness.
Her eyes, bright with fear, her mouth- how I long to kiss her beautiful lips- round in disbelief.
Lost in my anger, I spat words at her and chased her until she fell with exhaustion and terror.
Then I saw Christine, mon ange, lying on the floor, sobbing under my torture.
I hated myself, my face, my monstrosity.
I sang softly, got her to look at me, to hand me my mask.
Then I returned her before I did more damage.
After that, everything went downhill for me.
From prying Joseph Buquet to Madame Giry's warnings; the manager's stupidity and that Vicomte's imprudent ways, I had had enough.
Carlotta proceeded to take Christine's place in the opera.
Making myself known, I embarrassed the diva beyond her imagination.
But it was not enough.
I reverted to drastic measures.
Buquet was the first one to fall.
Indeed, he fell, right on top of the meddling Meg Giry.
Raoul and Christine on the rooftop-they never knew I was there.
The song they sang, the vows they made.
It burned my heart.
I wanted to kill them, wanted him to die slowly and make her suffer.
I wanted to force her to love me.
I promised revenge to their deaf ears, and at the end, I dropped a chandelier at Christine's feet.
For six months, such agony I went through!
Feverishly writing, Don Juan Triumphant was ready at last.
I made my entrance.
Wrenched the engagement ring off my beloved as if it were a hot coal.
They were so frightened; they dare not refuse.
Christine would sing Amnita.
She returned to her father's grave, and I was ready.
I called to her, and she came to me.
But again that damn boy interfered, and she ran away with him, away from me.
The night came, my great opera's debut.
My plan was set.
I took Piangi's place-he didn't feel the rope until it tightened.
Christine sang like never before, almost as though she recognized my voice.
I hid beneath my hood as I teased her with my voice.
She in turn teased me with her hands as she sang.
Towards the finish, she discovered my identity and tried to run, but I grabbed her wrist and held fast, drawing Christine towards me.
How I loved her, needed her then!
But she revealed my face to the world.
In that moment, I feared all was lost.
Once again I dragged her down to my lair, in a mix of feelings.
I threw the wedding veil on her head; her plain gold band was on her finger.
A perfect bride.
Her face, cold and frozen, was numb of feelings.
A perfect dead bride.
I will never forget those words she spoke to me.
"This haunted face holds no horror for me now. It's in your soul that the true distortion lies."
But they didn't affect me until later.
Once again, Fop-boy turned up and demanded to have me release Christine.
At this point, my rage was so great, I let it consume me.
In that moment, I gave my angel a hopeless choice: to live with me, as my wife, or to let her Vicomte die.
I knew she would choose his life over hers.
I didn't care that she would be mine by force, as long as she was mine.
She did choose me.
She pressed her lips to mine, and held them there.
My Angel kissed me for hours.
For eternity.
And then I knew she couldn't be mine.
Not against her will.
So I let her go- the mob was a good excuse.
I gave her to Raoul and bid them both out of my sight.
I thought she would be glad to leave me.
To go into her world of light with her handsome young husband.
The Vicomte dragged her away, and I stood, alone.
But she came back, with my ring in her slender hands.
She offered it to me, hope in her eyes.
I mistook the meaning and turned my back on her.
Moments later she returned, and Raoul gently guided her to my side.
I stared, unable to believe what was happening.
Christine gave a small nod, then reached up and kissed me, a kiss full of fire and passion.
I died and was born again during that kiss, like a phoenix out of its own ashes.
Dare I hope that she loved me as much I as loved her?
Could she choose me over a perfect life?
As if she read my mind, she murmured in my ear, "A life without you isn't a life at all."
Raoul watched us, and as she gave him a farewell kiss, I bowed to him.
He showed honor that I had not thought was in him.
After he left, Christine and I turned back to each other, drunk with adoration.
Christine, mon ange, I beg forgiveness a thousand times for what I have put you through.
I promise to make it up to you, by loving you a thousand times better.
I will sing for you a thousand times, and kiss your lips a thousand times.
I will always love you.
Oh my beloved Christine, thank you for seeing me, for being my shining light.
A/N~ I hope you enjoy this, I have now added all three into one story. I am sure more will pop up later, but for now I have a lot of stories to continue. I would appreciate any reviews! Thanks for reading! Luv Always, .:*Kat*:.
The minute I heard her, I knew I would love her.
Her sweet, clear voice; her shy, coquettish face.
Those large green eyes framed by thick dark lashes.
Her innocent, deadly smiles... All this I love and more.
When I found her crying in her dressing room, my heart nearly broke in two.
I could not help myself.
I talked to her, comforted her.
Of course, I could not tell her who I was.
Posing as her Angel of Music, I found a way into her mind.
Though she was rather wary of me at first, she soon became enthralled with me, and my singing.
I gave her lessons to improve her voice.
Under my instruction, her voice bloomed like the beautiful flower she was.
I did not oppose her obsession with me; it in fact quite matched my obsession for her.
Late at night, when she was asleep, I would watch her.
Her pale skin white in the moonlight, with the moonbeams trickling across her dark ringlets.
Her eyelashes draped across her striking eyes, her slim hand beside her cheek.
A picture too lovely for words.
Surely this girl was more angel than woman.
And indeed, when I was through with her teaching, she had the voice of an angel to match.
I will never forget the night that witch Carlotta huffed off the stage, and allowed my darling to shine through.
She sang with passion, and abandon, and I knew that she was singing for me.
Just looking at her took my breath away.
But that young, lovesick fool had to come along.
His pretty face gave my voice competition, and in the end, I had to take Christine away from him.
I would have liked to give Christine more time before I exposed her to me, but the idiotic Vicomte gave me no choice.
I had to distract her before I lost her to him.
Indeed, my voice, so near her own ear, and my hands, roaming over her perfect body, distracted her.
However, my mask proved to be too much of a temptation for her.
Oh God, that I might forget her face as she unveiled my hideousness.
Her eyes, bright with fear, her mouth- how I long to kiss her beautiful lips- round in disbelief.
Lost in my anger, I spat words at her and chased her until she fell with exhaustion and terror.
Then I saw Christine, mon ange, lying on the floor, sobbing under my torture.
I hated myself, my face, my monstrosity.
I sang softly, got her to look at me, to hand me my mask.
Then I returned her before I did more damage.
After that, everything went downhill for me.
From prying Joseph Buquet to Madame Giry's warnings; the manager's stupidity and that Vicomte's imprudent ways, I had had enough.
Carlotta proceeded to take Christine's place in the opera.
Making myself known, I embarrassed the diva beyond her imagination.
But it was not enough.
I reverted to drastic measures.
Buquet was the first one to fall.
Indeed, he fell, right on top of the meddling Meg Giry.
Raoul and Christine on the rooftop-they never knew I was there.
The song they sang, the vows they made.
It burned my heart.
I wanted to kill them, wanted him to die slowly and make her suffer.
I wanted to force her to love me.
I promised revenge to their deaf ears, and at the end, I dropped a chandelier at Christine's feet.
For six months, such agony I went through!
Feverishly writing, Don Juan Triumphant was ready at last.
I made my entrance.
Wrenched the engagement ring off my beloved as if it were a hot coal.
They were so frightened; they dare not refuse.
Christine would sing Amnita.
She returned to her father's grave, and I was ready.
I called to her, and she came to me.
But again that damn boy interfered, and she ran away with him, away from me.
The night came, my great opera's debut.
My plan was set.
I took Piangi's place-he didn't feel the rope until it tightened.
Christine sang like never before, almost as though she recognized my voice.
I hid beneath my hood as I teased her with my voice.
She in turn teased me with her hands as she sang.
Towards the finish, she discovered my identity and tried to run, but I grabbed her wrist and held fast, drawing Christine towards me.
How I loved her, needed her then!
But she revealed my face to the world.
In that moment, I feared all was lost.
Once again I dragged her down to my lair, in a mix of feelings.
I threw the wedding veil on her head; her plain gold band was on her finger.
A perfect bride.
Her face, cold and frozen, was numb of feelings.
A perfect dead bride.
I will never forget those words she spoke to me.
"This haunted face holds no horror for me now. It's in your soul that the true distortion lies."
But they didn't affect me until later.
Once again, Fop-boy turned up and demanded to have me release Christine.
At this point, my rage was so great, I let it consume me.
In that moment, I gave my angel a hopeless choice: to live with me, as my wife, or to let her Vicomte die.
I knew she would choose his life over hers.
I didn't care that she would be mine by force, as long as she was mine.
She did choose me.
She pressed her lips to mine, and held them there.
My Angel kissed me for hours.
For eternity.
And then I knew she couldn't be mine.
Not against her will.
So I let her go- the mob was a good excuse.
I gave her to Raoul and bid them both out of my sight.
I thought she would be glad to leave me.
To go into her world of light with her handsome young husband.
The Vicomte dragged her away, and I stood, alone.
But she came back, with my ring in her slender hands.
She offered it to me, hope in her eyes.
I mistook the meaning and turned my back on her.
Moments later she returned, and Raoul gently guided her to my side.
I stared, unable to believe what was happening.
Christine gave a small nod, then reached up and kissed me, a kiss full of fire and passion.
I died and was born again during that kiss, like a phoenix out of its own ashes.
Dare I hope that she loved me as much I as loved her?
Could she choose me over a perfect life?
As if she read my mind, she murmured in my ear, "A life without you isn't a life at all."
Raoul watched us, and as she gave him a farewell kiss, I bowed to him.
He showed honor that I had not thought was in him.
After he left, Christine and I turned back to each other, drunk with adoration.
Christine, mon ange, I beg forgiveness a thousand times for what I have put you through.
I promise to make it up to you, by loving you a thousand times better.
I will sing for you a thousand times, and kiss your lips a thousand times.
I will always love you.
Oh my beloved Christine, thank you for seeing me, for being my shining light.
A/N~ I hope you enjoy this, I have now added all three into one story. I am sure more will pop up later, but for now I have a lot of stories to continue. I would appreciate any reviews! Thanks for reading! Luv Always, .:*Kat*:.