Two days and several hundred minutes to Gwyndolyn's cell phone later, arrangements had been made for what Gwyndolyn was beginning to call The Great Fabrication, familiarly known as The Plan. Erik was getting his first taste of 21st century suspicion of one's fellow man, and found it refreshing. He'd always been that way.
Thanks to the glorious Internet, Gwyndolyn had been able to explain the concept of cell phones, and more mystifyingly, computers. It hadn't been easy- she'd managed to use 10 hours on her hotel's phone line (she'd transferred the charges to her room-mate, a tortuously inane individual that thought of little else than fashion and how best to alienate those over her low standard- she was consequently quite popular) and a quantity of time summarizing the product of that research.
The problem to which was devoted the most time was that of the girl's emancipation from her school group. A ridiculously simple plan had been devised and carried out, and Gwyndolyn was finally free. Loosely put, Gwyndolyn was now attending the fictional, but highly prestigious, Scientific Academy of Musical Art in Paris. Her parents had been quite pleased with her having been accepted.
Erik was still suspicious of Gwyndolyn's motives, as he had expected a fierce struggle of wills with a person that would have been his prisoner. It had been an unexpected boon to find a person so quickly, one who knew his circumstances...a young woman..
He pushed that thought aside without having registered it and looked around the room where he stood. All was in order and the room stood silently waiting for its guest. He gave a sad sigh as he walked down the dark hallway of his home.
Erik had not prepared Christine's room for the girl- such a thing was not possible- the room of his beloved would remain sacred and remote though its former occupant would never again lay her sweet hand upon the rich draperies and it would remain bereft of her quiet sighs.
He paused a moment at the door and took his mask in his hands. Touching a finger to his lips he offered a silent kiss to his lost angel as only a phantom can, then closed the door on his memories and prepared for the new day.
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~*~Author's Note: Absurdly short, isn't it? Oh well, I'll try to make the next one a bit longer. I'm using literary devices (why yes, I have been avoiding my English homework. How ever did you guess?), and that's an adequately weak excuse. :) Thank you, thank you to Europa and Madame anonymous (I feel funny adressing you by your first name-lol-I've been using screennames for too long) for reviewing recently...knowing that _someone_ was reading made me start writing again. More soon!
Thanks to the glorious Internet, Gwyndolyn had been able to explain the concept of cell phones, and more mystifyingly, computers. It hadn't been easy- she'd managed to use 10 hours on her hotel's phone line (she'd transferred the charges to her room-mate, a tortuously inane individual that thought of little else than fashion and how best to alienate those over her low standard- she was consequently quite popular) and a quantity of time summarizing the product of that research.
The problem to which was devoted the most time was that of the girl's emancipation from her school group. A ridiculously simple plan had been devised and carried out, and Gwyndolyn was finally free. Loosely put, Gwyndolyn was now attending the fictional, but highly prestigious, Scientific Academy of Musical Art in Paris. Her parents had been quite pleased with her having been accepted.
Erik was still suspicious of Gwyndolyn's motives, as he had expected a fierce struggle of wills with a person that would have been his prisoner. It had been an unexpected boon to find a person so quickly, one who knew his circumstances...a young woman..
He pushed that thought aside without having registered it and looked around the room where he stood. All was in order and the room stood silently waiting for its guest. He gave a sad sigh as he walked down the dark hallway of his home.
Erik had not prepared Christine's room for the girl- such a thing was not possible- the room of his beloved would remain sacred and remote though its former occupant would never again lay her sweet hand upon the rich draperies and it would remain bereft of her quiet sighs.
He paused a moment at the door and took his mask in his hands. Touching a finger to his lips he offered a silent kiss to his lost angel as only a phantom can, then closed the door on his memories and prepared for the new day.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
~*~Author's Note: Absurdly short, isn't it? Oh well, I'll try to make the next one a bit longer. I'm using literary devices (why yes, I have been avoiding my English homework. How ever did you guess?), and that's an adequately weak excuse. :) Thank you, thank you to Europa and Madame anonymous (I feel funny adressing you by your first name-lol-I've been using screennames for too long) for reviewing recently...knowing that _someone_ was reading made me start writing again. More soon!