(This part is especially hard to write, like a lot of this story, because this is all true song. I am sorry if things are hazy.)
p
Fog surrounded our two figures as we walked through the damp cluster of misty clouds. My hand was still firmly grasped by the hand of my Angel, which got me to wondering what to except around the next corner.
p
I began to wonder where my Angel was taking me. Although, after time, he trusted me to follow his pace, he would still occasionally turn around quickly to assure I was close behind him.
p
Seeing threw the mist of the tunnels was a task, but I was able to make out many other tunnels, leading in hundreds of different directions. I could only guess that my Angel knew his way around this under ground maze well. Rats and other rodents scampered across our path frequently, but I didn't dare stray from the Angel of Music.
p
We finally stopped in front of a lake the stretched farther then the eye could see. I wondered where we would go next, seeing that there was no way across. The Angel walked back and forth along the bank, as I sat off of the shore. I watched him search and search, when finally I spotted him dragging a small boat towards where I was resting.
p
There were small velvet pillows assorted on the bow, which the Angel pointed to. I climbed in, and sat on the pillows, as the Angel stepped in and pushed off the bank. We started across the glassy lake; The Angel propelled us forward with a wooden gondola stick. I traced my fingers across the water, and watched the ripples of my fingers flow into the boat's.
p
The trip across the lake was long, but my thoughts kept me busy as I wondered about everything; my Angel, where we were heading, and how my voice would change more with his teachings. If the new managers at the Opéra Populaire thought my voice was good now, I could only wonder what they would think when I got back from one day with the Angel of Music. But would I tell them about this Angel? The thought came across me many times as we crossed the lake.
p
Finally, the shore was in view. I sat up in the boat and strained to see past the misted air. The boat's bottom scrapped the surface, as the Angel stepped out, and pulled me in closer. Like a true gentlemen, he held his hand out, offering to help me out of the boat. I took his offer, shuttering as his musty fingers curled around mine.
p
We led me to a large gate that opened, somehow on its own, and brought me in. We had not spoken since we were inside of my dressing room, which made me more cautious. He left my side, and sat on the bench of an old organ of some sort.
p
I looked around me; darkness everywhere...the only lighting were candles around the room. Just like on the lake shore, fog covered the ground, making it a task to find my feet. A large sheet covered something to the left of me, and to the right, the Angel sat at his origin's bench, flipping through a hand written booklet of music notes.
p
The silence was broken by the origin's enchanting notes, perfectly played by the Angel. As he played, he began to hum in a chanting way. I felt drawn to it, and walked towards him, uncontrolled. His playing came to a sudden halt, as did my swaying pace.
p
He slowly stood, and walked towards me. I trembled as he grew closer. He suddenly spoke. "I have brought you here to serve music...to learn to sing more beautifully then you already do. From the moment I first heard you sing, I have needed you with me to sing for my music I write."
p
I starred stupidly back at him, trying to translate his exact words. iserve?/i I though. iWhat does he mean to serve?/i He spoke again.
p
"This darkness with heighten your senses, and wake your mind to imagination," he said. "Close your eyes, and surrender yourself to your most darkest dreams...gently, music will surround you. Do you feel it?" I stood silently, and felt, like he said, music flowing around me. It was floating across my face, through my hair, and rushing in my veins.
p
"Yes," I finally said. "I feel it." I felt a tingling sensation all around me. My bones quivered as I swayed back and forth with the music. Then he came, and wrapped his arms around me. The same sensation was there, but a new feeling entered. A feeling of sympathy. He leaned and whispered to into my ears.
p
"Trust me...savor each sensation." I reached up, and braced his face. I felt something placed on it, and as I looked up, I noticed a mask on the right side, covering his eye, nose, and went across his lips. I almost pulled away, but I had just accepted to trust him no matter what. Instead, I stayed were I was, and wondered.
p
He whispered in my ear again, "Listen to the music of the night." He started to walk me to the covered object to the side. He removed the tarp, and it reviled a perfectly molded sculpture of me, in a wedding gown inside of, what looked like, a mirror. I reached forward to touch the reflection, when the hand of the sculpture thrust out at me.
p
-
p
I woke up in the small boat, which was converted into a small bed. I searched the room, to find no one but the Angel at his organ, playing a tune that was unfamiliar to me. I could only guess that I had fainted, because I could not remember anything after the sculpture's arm reaching toward me. I gazed in the mirror's direction, to find the wax-faced impression still bent forward; arm outstretched.
p
I looked back at the Angel, when I heard a sweet melodic music playing beside me. It was a small monkey playing the symbols, standing on top of a barrel origin. He was playing to the tune of, "Masquerade," a song popular to costume party goers. In half-trance, I reached to the small object, trying to touch it. Before I could reach it, the sweet music stopped. The trance was broken as I tried to recall what had happened before the sculpture had frightened me, the night before.
p
I recalled the mist swirling around me, and the large glassy lake, and a mysterious man in a boat, propelling us forward. Then it all came back to me. That man; the Angel, hidden for some odd reason behind a mask. What was he trying to cover? What was he hiding?
p
I silently got out of the bedding, and walked towards the Angel, still lost in his music writings. I stood behind him, watching him play furiously, and then stop to record notes into a note book. On top of the ballad, it read, "Don Juan Triumphant."
p
I held my hand up, hesitating, but after a few attempts, snatched the white mask off of the Angel. He sprang up, and rounded on me furiously. I looked into his face to only find horror. His face, if anyone could call it a face, was noting but cartilage, and skin. The part which was covered by the mask was nothing but bone. His eye was far inside of a black whole, and his nose was nothing but two large holes.
p
He screamed, and cursed at me, "Damn you! You wanted to see what was under this mask? Well look! Do you see? This is your Angel Christine! Now, you can never be free! Damn you! Curse you!" I sat on the floor, covering my eyes, and cried. I cried from fear, surprise, and above all, sympathy.
p
I sadly looked at the mask which I held in my hand, and handed it to him slowly. I looked into his eyes, and braved the horror that set inside of me. He looked at the mask, then me, and grabbed it greedily. After adjusting it correctly on his face, he stood and offered me his hand. He noticed I refused to take his offer, and said,
p
"Come...we must return. Those ifools/i who run my theatre will be missing you."
p
At that, we were back in the boat, and silently returning to my dressing room. With the scent of fear around me, I remained silent the rest of the trip.
p
Fog surrounded our two figures as we walked through the damp cluster of misty clouds. My hand was still firmly grasped by the hand of my Angel, which got me to wondering what to except around the next corner.
p
I began to wonder where my Angel was taking me. Although, after time, he trusted me to follow his pace, he would still occasionally turn around quickly to assure I was close behind him.
p
Seeing threw the mist of the tunnels was a task, but I was able to make out many other tunnels, leading in hundreds of different directions. I could only guess that my Angel knew his way around this under ground maze well. Rats and other rodents scampered across our path frequently, but I didn't dare stray from the Angel of Music.
p
We finally stopped in front of a lake the stretched farther then the eye could see. I wondered where we would go next, seeing that there was no way across. The Angel walked back and forth along the bank, as I sat off of the shore. I watched him search and search, when finally I spotted him dragging a small boat towards where I was resting.
p
There were small velvet pillows assorted on the bow, which the Angel pointed to. I climbed in, and sat on the pillows, as the Angel stepped in and pushed off the bank. We started across the glassy lake; The Angel propelled us forward with a wooden gondola stick. I traced my fingers across the water, and watched the ripples of my fingers flow into the boat's.
p
The trip across the lake was long, but my thoughts kept me busy as I wondered about everything; my Angel, where we were heading, and how my voice would change more with his teachings. If the new managers at the Opéra Populaire thought my voice was good now, I could only wonder what they would think when I got back from one day with the Angel of Music. But would I tell them about this Angel? The thought came across me many times as we crossed the lake.
p
Finally, the shore was in view. I sat up in the boat and strained to see past the misted air. The boat's bottom scrapped the surface, as the Angel stepped out, and pulled me in closer. Like a true gentlemen, he held his hand out, offering to help me out of the boat. I took his offer, shuttering as his musty fingers curled around mine.
p
We led me to a large gate that opened, somehow on its own, and brought me in. We had not spoken since we were inside of my dressing room, which made me more cautious. He left my side, and sat on the bench of an old organ of some sort.
p
I looked around me; darkness everywhere...the only lighting were candles around the room. Just like on the lake shore, fog covered the ground, making it a task to find my feet. A large sheet covered something to the left of me, and to the right, the Angel sat at his origin's bench, flipping through a hand written booklet of music notes.
p
The silence was broken by the origin's enchanting notes, perfectly played by the Angel. As he played, he began to hum in a chanting way. I felt drawn to it, and walked towards him, uncontrolled. His playing came to a sudden halt, as did my swaying pace.
p
He slowly stood, and walked towards me. I trembled as he grew closer. He suddenly spoke. "I have brought you here to serve music...to learn to sing more beautifully then you already do. From the moment I first heard you sing, I have needed you with me to sing for my music I write."
p
I starred stupidly back at him, trying to translate his exact words. iserve?/i I though. iWhat does he mean to serve?/i He spoke again.
p
"This darkness with heighten your senses, and wake your mind to imagination," he said. "Close your eyes, and surrender yourself to your most darkest dreams...gently, music will surround you. Do you feel it?" I stood silently, and felt, like he said, music flowing around me. It was floating across my face, through my hair, and rushing in my veins.
p
"Yes," I finally said. "I feel it." I felt a tingling sensation all around me. My bones quivered as I swayed back and forth with the music. Then he came, and wrapped his arms around me. The same sensation was there, but a new feeling entered. A feeling of sympathy. He leaned and whispered to into my ears.
p
"Trust me...savor each sensation." I reached up, and braced his face. I felt something placed on it, and as I looked up, I noticed a mask on the right side, covering his eye, nose, and went across his lips. I almost pulled away, but I had just accepted to trust him no matter what. Instead, I stayed were I was, and wondered.
p
He whispered in my ear again, "Listen to the music of the night." He started to walk me to the covered object to the side. He removed the tarp, and it reviled a perfectly molded sculpture of me, in a wedding gown inside of, what looked like, a mirror. I reached forward to touch the reflection, when the hand of the sculpture thrust out at me.
p
-
p
I woke up in the small boat, which was converted into a small bed. I searched the room, to find no one but the Angel at his organ, playing a tune that was unfamiliar to me. I could only guess that I had fainted, because I could not remember anything after the sculpture's arm reaching toward me. I gazed in the mirror's direction, to find the wax-faced impression still bent forward; arm outstretched.
p
I looked back at the Angel, when I heard a sweet melodic music playing beside me. It was a small monkey playing the symbols, standing on top of a barrel origin. He was playing to the tune of, "Masquerade," a song popular to costume party goers. In half-trance, I reached to the small object, trying to touch it. Before I could reach it, the sweet music stopped. The trance was broken as I tried to recall what had happened before the sculpture had frightened me, the night before.
p
I recalled the mist swirling around me, and the large glassy lake, and a mysterious man in a boat, propelling us forward. Then it all came back to me. That man; the Angel, hidden for some odd reason behind a mask. What was he trying to cover? What was he hiding?
p
I silently got out of the bedding, and walked towards the Angel, still lost in his music writings. I stood behind him, watching him play furiously, and then stop to record notes into a note book. On top of the ballad, it read, "Don Juan Triumphant."
p
I held my hand up, hesitating, but after a few attempts, snatched the white mask off of the Angel. He sprang up, and rounded on me furiously. I looked into his face to only find horror. His face, if anyone could call it a face, was noting but cartilage, and skin. The part which was covered by the mask was nothing but bone. His eye was far inside of a black whole, and his nose was nothing but two large holes.
p
He screamed, and cursed at me, "Damn you! You wanted to see what was under this mask? Well look! Do you see? This is your Angel Christine! Now, you can never be free! Damn you! Curse you!" I sat on the floor, covering my eyes, and cried. I cried from fear, surprise, and above all, sympathy.
p
I sadly looked at the mask which I held in my hand, and handed it to him slowly. I looked into his eyes, and braved the horror that set inside of me. He looked at the mask, then me, and grabbed it greedily. After adjusting it correctly on his face, he stood and offered me his hand. He noticed I refused to take his offer, and said,
p
"Come...we must return. Those ifools/i who run my theatre will be missing you."
p
At that, we were back in the boat, and silently returning to my dressing room. With the scent of fear around me, I remained silent the rest of the trip.