CS: Okay, this is my new Phantom story... I hope everyone likes it. Oi, and just a note... I LOVE ERIK! *hugs Erik*
ERIK: Having... problems...breathing! *starting to turn blue*
CS:*is completely oblivious* Please read my fic! And above all, enjoy! *starts and drops Erik*
ERIK: *breathes in the sweet oxygen of life, gasping*
CS: That's right! I recently saw "The Phantom of the Opera" 1990/1 with Charles Dance and Teri Polo (yes, the one from Meet the Parents). I L O V E D it. Although it took many- MANY liberties. But it was very romantic. And Raoul was a PIMP! *laughs hysterically*
Raoul: *doesn't get it* My name isn't Raoul...
CS: Oh, yeah- his name is Phillipe in this version... Anyway... this is the IMPORTANT part of all this bantering
ERIK: *muttering* finally...
CS: Shup up, Pimp Daddy Erik!
ERIK: *is suddenly in a pimp jacket and platforms- his hair a big fro and his mask is the "gold shinny" one* Oh... dear god...
CS: *giggles* ANNNNNNNYWHO- Christine is BLONDE! BLONDE BLONDE BLONDE! In both the original, the Charles Dance version, and this story. Be sure to remember that. This is my cast page for these characters: http://clairestarling.tripod.com
So, continue on!
*the 900 numba comes on and she and a very VERY reluctant Erik dance to it*
DISCLAIMER: Um... this is the part where I am supposed to say I don't own Erik right? Shit.
Someone Like You: Chapter One
A loud piercing scream filled the air, cutting the thick silence like a knife through butter.
Erik started as he heard it. He had been wandering the halls of his Opera House, making sure all was in order. It had been several months since the crash of the chandelier and Christine was sparse at the opera house. Erik had been huffing about for weeks, but what could he expect? After all, there was no way like saying "I love you" than smashing a chandelier at your true loves feet.
The sounds of light, fast, and fumbling footsteps came first. A woman, not very old, and in very good shape. Perhaps she was a dancer. Then came the sound of two pairs of thundering feet, like a stampede. Their crude laughter filled the air and Erik had an idea of what they were trying to do to the girl. Using a secret passage, he climbed the steps to their floor and remained in the shadows to analyze the situation. The young woman rounded the bend, her hand running along the wall. She couldn't have been as old as Christine was, but she wasn't as young as Meg. Her hair was in her face so it was impossible to see who it was. But her dress was ripped in several places, the largest tear running from her abdomen to the seam of her dress. She had red splotches on several areas of bare skin, foreshadowing the bruises that would form later. Erik had never seen a woman's bare legs before.
He nearly cried out in horror as the two men from earlier, who were nearly Erik's age, caught her and pulled her down. Erik's hand tightened around his lasso, formulating a plan as his anger built. They laughed as she struck out blindly, finally racking her long nails across one of their cheeks, drawing blood. His eyes grew fierce as he pulled back to give the girl a right hook. Erik had almost stepped out of the shadows to attack when something amazing happened. Just as the fist was about to strike her face, her left hand caught his fist. Grasping his thumb, she yanked it back almost to the breaking point, making the man cry out in pain. Using his weight, she jostled him onto the other man.
Rising, the girl started running again, her hand running along the wall. She stopped when she found a door. The door to box five. Erik wanted her out of harms way, so he pressed a counterweight and the door swung open. The girl stumbled inside, slammed the door quickly, and locked it.
When Erik heard the bolt slide into place, he came out of the shadows. The two men were up now, ready to bang down the door. As they ran towards Erik's box, a lasso caught one around the neck. With a jerk and a loud snap, the man died before he hit the floor, the lasso already retracted. The surviving man turned around and cried out when he saw his dead friend on the floor.
"Philipe!"
He looked at the murderer and immediately knew his fate.
"Phantom!" he whispered.
He turned and ran, hoping to escape from this ghost. He turned back to see if the Phantom was close by. Of course, for those of you who have read or seen every horror movie out there, that is the absolutely, positively, worst thing you could possibly do. Which would explain why people keep doing it every single time. The last thing the man ever saw was a flash of white before he was tossed over the balcony railing. He should have learned that, when falling from a great height, never catch yourself with your head. But he would have plenty of time to berate himself for it in hell.
He had to get rid of the bodies before handling the girl. If she had gone by the time he returned, he would watch over her for a while until he was certain she was safe. Otherwise… well, he would deal with that when the situation presented itself.
In one hour, both bodies had been dragged to his lake, minus all valuable possessions (a pouch that had thirty francs and a sapphire ring), weighted down, and dumped. Returning to the surface, Erik went straight for his secret passage in the column of his box. He listened carefully, but heard no noise. Perhaps the girl had left? But when he opened the column, he discovered the girl on the floor, unconscious.
Now, this is one of those moments when the main character has to make one of those choices that will effect the whole story. Erik was choosing between what his conscious said and what his common sense said. His conscious said that it was Saturday and no one would be here until Sunday. He didn't know when she would wake up and if she did, if she would be lucid or not. His common sense said that he couldn't stand another Christine. But he didn't love the girl; in fact, he didn't even know who she was.
He looked down at her. She looked nothing like Christine. Her hair was dark like his, and straight, only curving to surround her face. Her olive skin was fair, with freckles dotting at her high cheekbones and across her soft nose. Her Egyptian eyes were closed, hiding their color from him. Her puffy lips were rosy, but also split and bleeding. She was slightly taller than Christine was- a little plumper, but with more of a figure. She had a scar on her left eyebrow, distorting the shape of it. But oddly enough, on her it looked as if it belonged.
Sighing, Erik lifted the girl into his arms. She wasn't heavy like the two bodies he had lifted earlier. But then again, she wasn't feather light like Christine. He gave into his conscious as he descended down into his lair. He didn't know what to say to the girl when she saw his mask, or where she was, or when she asked who he was…
But currently, Erik wanted to take her bellow, row her across the lake, lay her in the spare room, and treat her wounds.
When Erik looks back on this years from now he wont know whether he should curse himself for his decision or dance around in celebration of it.
ERIK: Having... problems...breathing! *starting to turn blue*
CS:*is completely oblivious* Please read my fic! And above all, enjoy! *starts and drops Erik*
ERIK: *breathes in the sweet oxygen of life, gasping*
CS: That's right! I recently saw "The Phantom of the Opera" 1990/1 with Charles Dance and Teri Polo (yes, the one from Meet the Parents). I L O V E D it. Although it took many- MANY liberties. But it was very romantic. And Raoul was a PIMP! *laughs hysterically*
Raoul: *doesn't get it* My name isn't Raoul...
CS: Oh, yeah- his name is Phillipe in this version... Anyway... this is the IMPORTANT part of all this bantering
ERIK: *muttering* finally...
CS: Shup up, Pimp Daddy Erik!
ERIK: *is suddenly in a pimp jacket and platforms- his hair a big fro and his mask is the "gold shinny" one* Oh... dear god...
CS: *giggles* ANNNNNNNYWHO- Christine is BLONDE! BLONDE BLONDE BLONDE! In both the original, the Charles Dance version, and this story. Be sure to remember that. This is my cast page for these characters: http://clairestarling.tripod.com
So, continue on!
*the 900 numba comes on and she and a very VERY reluctant Erik dance to it*
DISCLAIMER: Um... this is the part where I am supposed to say I don't own Erik right? Shit.
Someone Like You: Chapter One
A loud piercing scream filled the air, cutting the thick silence like a knife through butter.
Erik started as he heard it. He had been wandering the halls of his Opera House, making sure all was in order. It had been several months since the crash of the chandelier and Christine was sparse at the opera house. Erik had been huffing about for weeks, but what could he expect? After all, there was no way like saying "I love you" than smashing a chandelier at your true loves feet.
The sounds of light, fast, and fumbling footsteps came first. A woman, not very old, and in very good shape. Perhaps she was a dancer. Then came the sound of two pairs of thundering feet, like a stampede. Their crude laughter filled the air and Erik had an idea of what they were trying to do to the girl. Using a secret passage, he climbed the steps to their floor and remained in the shadows to analyze the situation. The young woman rounded the bend, her hand running along the wall. She couldn't have been as old as Christine was, but she wasn't as young as Meg. Her hair was in her face so it was impossible to see who it was. But her dress was ripped in several places, the largest tear running from her abdomen to the seam of her dress. She had red splotches on several areas of bare skin, foreshadowing the bruises that would form later. Erik had never seen a woman's bare legs before.
He nearly cried out in horror as the two men from earlier, who were nearly Erik's age, caught her and pulled her down. Erik's hand tightened around his lasso, formulating a plan as his anger built. They laughed as she struck out blindly, finally racking her long nails across one of their cheeks, drawing blood. His eyes grew fierce as he pulled back to give the girl a right hook. Erik had almost stepped out of the shadows to attack when something amazing happened. Just as the fist was about to strike her face, her left hand caught his fist. Grasping his thumb, she yanked it back almost to the breaking point, making the man cry out in pain. Using his weight, she jostled him onto the other man.
Rising, the girl started running again, her hand running along the wall. She stopped when she found a door. The door to box five. Erik wanted her out of harms way, so he pressed a counterweight and the door swung open. The girl stumbled inside, slammed the door quickly, and locked it.
When Erik heard the bolt slide into place, he came out of the shadows. The two men were up now, ready to bang down the door. As they ran towards Erik's box, a lasso caught one around the neck. With a jerk and a loud snap, the man died before he hit the floor, the lasso already retracted. The surviving man turned around and cried out when he saw his dead friend on the floor.
"Philipe!"
He looked at the murderer and immediately knew his fate.
"Phantom!" he whispered.
He turned and ran, hoping to escape from this ghost. He turned back to see if the Phantom was close by. Of course, for those of you who have read or seen every horror movie out there, that is the absolutely, positively, worst thing you could possibly do. Which would explain why people keep doing it every single time. The last thing the man ever saw was a flash of white before he was tossed over the balcony railing. He should have learned that, when falling from a great height, never catch yourself with your head. But he would have plenty of time to berate himself for it in hell.
He had to get rid of the bodies before handling the girl. If she had gone by the time he returned, he would watch over her for a while until he was certain she was safe. Otherwise… well, he would deal with that when the situation presented itself.
In one hour, both bodies had been dragged to his lake, minus all valuable possessions (a pouch that had thirty francs and a sapphire ring), weighted down, and dumped. Returning to the surface, Erik went straight for his secret passage in the column of his box. He listened carefully, but heard no noise. Perhaps the girl had left? But when he opened the column, he discovered the girl on the floor, unconscious.
Now, this is one of those moments when the main character has to make one of those choices that will effect the whole story. Erik was choosing between what his conscious said and what his common sense said. His conscious said that it was Saturday and no one would be here until Sunday. He didn't know when she would wake up and if she did, if she would be lucid or not. His common sense said that he couldn't stand another Christine. But he didn't love the girl; in fact, he didn't even know who she was.
He looked down at her. She looked nothing like Christine. Her hair was dark like his, and straight, only curving to surround her face. Her olive skin was fair, with freckles dotting at her high cheekbones and across her soft nose. Her Egyptian eyes were closed, hiding their color from him. Her puffy lips were rosy, but also split and bleeding. She was slightly taller than Christine was- a little plumper, but with more of a figure. She had a scar on her left eyebrow, distorting the shape of it. But oddly enough, on her it looked as if it belonged.
Sighing, Erik lifted the girl into his arms. She wasn't heavy like the two bodies he had lifted earlier. But then again, she wasn't feather light like Christine. He gave into his conscious as he descended down into his lair. He didn't know what to say to the girl when she saw his mask, or where she was, or when she asked who he was…
But currently, Erik wanted to take her bellow, row her across the lake, lay her in the spare room, and treat her wounds.
When Erik looks back on this years from now he wont know whether he should curse himself for his decision or dance around in celebration of it.