The Phantom Of The Miserables - 2004
George Smillie
(A/N: I wonder if anyone is left in this genre of FFN from when I was writing Phantom stories . . . Well it was a long time ago. I started this story as one of the dreaded 'intteractive' stories involving YOU! The author! I think the title makes it obvious . . . so i'll see how you guys respond to the prolouge and maybe i'll carry on. And now, as hardly any of the original authors from the story are left around, i'm gonna start again! And give you all the chance to take part!)
The lair was cool on this evening. A soft wind had managed to find its way down in to the cellars, across the lake, and in to Erik's home. The wind breathed against Erik's mask, causing him to stir slightly, and awaken. He was embarrassed to discover himself lying on a bedside chair, his hand entwined with Christine's wedding veil, which Erik himself had given to her. On his gloved hand rested the two old rings from so long ago.
"Monsieur Erik . . . time to wake up . . ." Erik jumped from his seat, startled. He was even more surprised to find himself gazing in to the eyes of a stranger! Dressed in a smart black cape, and dress clothes, the figure smiled, and offered Erik a hand out of the chair.
"Who in the devil are you?" Started Erik, standing up, reaching for his lasso.
"Looking for this?" Asked the figure with a chuckle, and opened his palm, revealing the long string of rope . . .
"How did you- What are you-"
"Erik! For goodness sake get a grip on yourself!" The figure patted him on the shoulder sympatchetically. "I am merely a great fan of you from the far off future, here to take you and some others away to perform a musical for me!"
Erik stared in to the figures eyes blankly, then said, "I could believe that."
"Tell me Erik," continued the figure, "have you ever heard of Victor Hugo?"
"The author? I believe so . . ."
"Read any of his books?"
"I did glance at some of them, there was . . . 'the Hunchback of Notre Dame,' 'les Contemplations,' oh, and 'les Misérables.' Why?"
"Oh you'll see . . ." grinned the figure . . .
In a flash of purple light, the two disappeared, leaving the lair empty, apart from the cry of Ayesha, who said "meow."
George Smillie
(A/N: I wonder if anyone is left in this genre of FFN from when I was writing Phantom stories . . . Well it was a long time ago. I started this story as one of the dreaded 'intteractive' stories involving YOU! The author! I think the title makes it obvious . . . so i'll see how you guys respond to the prolouge and maybe i'll carry on. And now, as hardly any of the original authors from the story are left around, i'm gonna start again! And give you all the chance to take part!)
The lair was cool on this evening. A soft wind had managed to find its way down in to the cellars, across the lake, and in to Erik's home. The wind breathed against Erik's mask, causing him to stir slightly, and awaken. He was embarrassed to discover himself lying on a bedside chair, his hand entwined with Christine's wedding veil, which Erik himself had given to her. On his gloved hand rested the two old rings from so long ago.
"Monsieur Erik . . . time to wake up . . ." Erik jumped from his seat, startled. He was even more surprised to find himself gazing in to the eyes of a stranger! Dressed in a smart black cape, and dress clothes, the figure smiled, and offered Erik a hand out of the chair.
"Who in the devil are you?" Started Erik, standing up, reaching for his lasso.
"Looking for this?" Asked the figure with a chuckle, and opened his palm, revealing the long string of rope . . .
"How did you- What are you-"
"Erik! For goodness sake get a grip on yourself!" The figure patted him on the shoulder sympatchetically. "I am merely a great fan of you from the far off future, here to take you and some others away to perform a musical for me!"
Erik stared in to the figures eyes blankly, then said, "I could believe that."
"Tell me Erik," continued the figure, "have you ever heard of Victor Hugo?"
"The author? I believe so . . ."
"Read any of his books?"
"I did glance at some of them, there was . . . 'the Hunchback of Notre Dame,' 'les Contemplations,' oh, and 'les Misérables.' Why?"
"Oh you'll see . . ." grinned the figure . . .
In a flash of purple light, the two disappeared, leaving the lair empty, apart from the cry of Ayesha, who said "meow."