Disclaimer: I don't own The Phantom of the Opera.
This came to me one day when I should have been doing something much more productive. Enjoy!
Epitaphs
My life seems to me nothing but a farce since she left, and I have to wonder what strange turn of fate caused the mob to miss me. I expected to find death if she left me, but instead I found inexorable existence.
Not that I'm ungrateful for life, for even the most unfortunate experiences do not dull for me the happiness I find at hearing my music. No, life is still appreciated...just not, at this point in time, preferred.
I'm not sure how long it's been since she left me, I've long stopped counting the days. My clocks have run down, but I don't wind them anymore. The time no longer matters to me.
Every day is night now, I never see the sun, never feel the wind. But I'm content like this, days and nights endless and no sound save for my breathing.
"If she came back right now", my ever-pressing mind thinks, "she could save me from this abyss, if she would only come back..."
But she won't, an instead all I can to do is imagine her. She's in every corner of my house. Her magical, bell-like laughter rings throughout every corridor, seeming to mock me, to say "I'm gone and you're empty."
Dust collects on that which I once held dear, my music dies within its temple, and its soul worshipper stands by and watches with a stony face.
I've stopped keeping her room pristine, my last hopes for her return dashed when I overheard the corps de ballet talking about her wedding to the Vicomte. The damn girls talk too loud to keep from hearing. Her room collects dust now, it settles over her hair pins and dainty hand mirror. The room smells faintly of something old and long gone, and I can no longer bring myself to enter. The doors stay locked always.
Sometimes I wish she'd come back, and then I have to remind myself that wishes don't come true.
FIN