Encounter
By
PhanGrrrl
No one talked to her in the chaos. No one asked if she would survive without her job if the opera closed. No one cared about anyone but themselves. She expected nothing more than that.
After that terrible night nothing ever seemed the same. The rumor was that the ghost was dead now, as if you could kill a ghost. The soprano he had kidnapped had escaped and was to be married soon. No one spoke of the Phantom anymore.
But everyone who had been there remembered him.
She remembered him. She had seen his face and heard that voice more beautiful than any dream. Everyone had seen his face but no one remembered his voice. She knew because she listened, but never spoke. They weren't afraid to talk about him now, because the ghost was dead. There was no thrill now when you walked down an empty hall, no sense of someone waiting and watching. They said he had loved the soprano and some how that had killed him. She did not believe you could kill a ghost.
She played no special role in the opera, just a maid to one of the dancers. She was not special. And she was silent. But she believed that she remembered more than everyone what she had seen on that stage. Could a ghost really sing that way? Surely he was an angel. You could not kill an angel.
But they all said he had been nothing but a man. As if man was nothing. And a man could die. She hoped he was not. Not dead.
She was a wanderer in the darkness of the failing opera. She never did much work. After the disaster she wandered often. She was looking for ghosts. She went deeper each day, into the darkness that seemed to never end.
She knew she would find him one day. She knew he wasn't dead. Because you couldn't kill a phantom.
He looked as if he had been waiting for her. And he was still waiting. He was waiting for her to speak, or scream maybe. She wasn't afraid of his face, everyone had seen it. And she could barely see it through the mask of shadows. Maybe he was worried she would give him away. Maybe he was going to kill her.
She wanted to hear him speak, so she waited as well, hoping he would.
"Aren't you going to run?" he asked her at last, sending a shiver up her spine. She shook her head no. He regarded her curiously. He seemed almost shocked when she approached him.
"Don't you know who I am?" he asked her suspiciously when she did not stop moving towards him. She nodded yes.
"Aren't you afraid?"
No.
"You've been looking for me."
Yes. Closer now.
"Well I've found you, what do you want from the ghost?" She was an inch from him now. He seemed to hate her closeness for a moment, as if he would push her away. She remembered his voice, his song. She saw his eyes were beautiful.
He did not move at all when she kissed him. He seemed frozen and his whole body seemed so very cold. She worked her lips with his very slowly refusing to pull away. And slowly he began to yield and melt.
He kissed her like he was dreaming of another. The soprano. She had been the only one jealous of the singer when the ghost with the angel's voice had taken her.
So let me be what she should have been.
He was kissing her back now, tender and longing in the dark. How careful he was, how tentative. She knew there was more hunger in him than that. There had to be. His eyes were so lonely.
She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close to her, kissing his horrible face. How strange it felt beneath her lips. It was softer than she had imagined. Now there was a fire rising in him, it had only been waiting for a signal. It had waited for a yes. She told him yes as she ran her hands over his body. He was a man indeed.
She smiled to herself as his mouth moved down her neck, so hungry. She unbuttoned her dress for him. Yes.
He kissed her breasts, starving. Taking her nipple into his mouth and stifling a crying, drinking her skin up. So thirsty. Take more. I will say yes.
She loved the feeling of being lifted up, pressed against the wall. The feel of the cold stone against her bared skin was almost as enticing as the feel of his hands and lips on her aching body. Almost.
She let him take as much time as he wanted to with her. Exploring her with his hands and mouth, both so warm now. She had never expected a ghost to be this alive. Pressed against the wall she felt his hardness against her leg and kissed him to tell him it was time. Yes. He had waited so long for this hadn't he. She could hear it. She could feel it.
He lifted her skirts up her legs, delving between her thighs and making her gasp. The fist sound she made in such a long time. Would he seduce her from silence? She had never imagined that. She wanted it though. They slid to the floor together and she savored the heat of him above her. She reached out for him, wanted him inside of her.
She cried out when he plunged into her, like stabbing. It was like dying. Was this what living was? Was he weeping or smiling as he kissed her and they moved in rhythm with each other in the darkness? She was moaning into his embrace.
"Say something," he panted into her ear. So close. What else did he need to hear? Hadn't she told him everything? Her dreams and her fears and her wasted life? Didn't know her complete already, as no one had? What else did he need to hear?
"Yes."
She felt him convulse as he climaxed and bought her to her peak as well. She screamed out in the dark. Screamed into his kiss.
"Yes…" she whispered it again as he fell against her for a moment. He savored her for a moment before releasing him self, standing quickly. Leaving her below.
"What do you want from me?" he whispered, staring down at her. She lay relaxed on the cold floor with her breasts bared and her skirt tangled above her waist.
"Sing to me."
And, quietly at first, he obeyed. He sang to her in the dark. Did he know that she belonged here? He knelt to her as she sang and she closed her eyes. He buttoned her dress and righted her clothes and she smiled. Such a gentleman.
She wondered if he was going to kill her now.
But she was just a ghost to him. You could not kill a ghost.
She loved it when he lifted her up, wrapping her in song. Was she going home now? Was she free? He told her to surrender but she had done that long ago. She was doomed now, she thought and smiled.
I've found you. I've seen. I can't be free.
You are freedom.
I will set you free.
Is this death?
You cannot kill a ghost.
Are we going home now?
Will you come?
Yes.
By
PhanGrrrl
No one talked to her in the chaos. No one asked if she would survive without her job if the opera closed. No one cared about anyone but themselves. She expected nothing more than that.
After that terrible night nothing ever seemed the same. The rumor was that the ghost was dead now, as if you could kill a ghost. The soprano he had kidnapped had escaped and was to be married soon. No one spoke of the Phantom anymore.
But everyone who had been there remembered him.
She remembered him. She had seen his face and heard that voice more beautiful than any dream. Everyone had seen his face but no one remembered his voice. She knew because she listened, but never spoke. They weren't afraid to talk about him now, because the ghost was dead. There was no thrill now when you walked down an empty hall, no sense of someone waiting and watching. They said he had loved the soprano and some how that had killed him. She did not believe you could kill a ghost.
She played no special role in the opera, just a maid to one of the dancers. She was not special. And she was silent. But she believed that she remembered more than everyone what she had seen on that stage. Could a ghost really sing that way? Surely he was an angel. You could not kill an angel.
But they all said he had been nothing but a man. As if man was nothing. And a man could die. She hoped he was not. Not dead.
She was a wanderer in the darkness of the failing opera. She never did much work. After the disaster she wandered often. She was looking for ghosts. She went deeper each day, into the darkness that seemed to never end.
She knew she would find him one day. She knew he wasn't dead. Because you couldn't kill a phantom.
He looked as if he had been waiting for her. And he was still waiting. He was waiting for her to speak, or scream maybe. She wasn't afraid of his face, everyone had seen it. And she could barely see it through the mask of shadows. Maybe he was worried she would give him away. Maybe he was going to kill her.
She wanted to hear him speak, so she waited as well, hoping he would.
"Aren't you going to run?" he asked her at last, sending a shiver up her spine. She shook her head no. He regarded her curiously. He seemed almost shocked when she approached him.
"Don't you know who I am?" he asked her suspiciously when she did not stop moving towards him. She nodded yes.
"Aren't you afraid?"
No.
"You've been looking for me."
Yes. Closer now.
"Well I've found you, what do you want from the ghost?" She was an inch from him now. He seemed to hate her closeness for a moment, as if he would push her away. She remembered his voice, his song. She saw his eyes were beautiful.
He did not move at all when she kissed him. He seemed frozen and his whole body seemed so very cold. She worked her lips with his very slowly refusing to pull away. And slowly he began to yield and melt.
He kissed her like he was dreaming of another. The soprano. She had been the only one jealous of the singer when the ghost with the angel's voice had taken her.
So let me be what she should have been.
He was kissing her back now, tender and longing in the dark. How careful he was, how tentative. She knew there was more hunger in him than that. There had to be. His eyes were so lonely.
She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close to her, kissing his horrible face. How strange it felt beneath her lips. It was softer than she had imagined. Now there was a fire rising in him, it had only been waiting for a signal. It had waited for a yes. She told him yes as she ran her hands over his body. He was a man indeed.
She smiled to herself as his mouth moved down her neck, so hungry. She unbuttoned her dress for him. Yes.
He kissed her breasts, starving. Taking her nipple into his mouth and stifling a crying, drinking her skin up. So thirsty. Take more. I will say yes.
She loved the feeling of being lifted up, pressed against the wall. The feel of the cold stone against her bared skin was almost as enticing as the feel of his hands and lips on her aching body. Almost.
She let him take as much time as he wanted to with her. Exploring her with his hands and mouth, both so warm now. She had never expected a ghost to be this alive. Pressed against the wall she felt his hardness against her leg and kissed him to tell him it was time. Yes. He had waited so long for this hadn't he. She could hear it. She could feel it.
He lifted her skirts up her legs, delving between her thighs and making her gasp. The fist sound she made in such a long time. Would he seduce her from silence? She had never imagined that. She wanted it though. They slid to the floor together and she savored the heat of him above her. She reached out for him, wanted him inside of her.
She cried out when he plunged into her, like stabbing. It was like dying. Was this what living was? Was he weeping or smiling as he kissed her and they moved in rhythm with each other in the darkness? She was moaning into his embrace.
"Say something," he panted into her ear. So close. What else did he need to hear? Hadn't she told him everything? Her dreams and her fears and her wasted life? Didn't know her complete already, as no one had? What else did he need to hear?
"Yes."
She felt him convulse as he climaxed and bought her to her peak as well. She screamed out in the dark. Screamed into his kiss.
"Yes…" she whispered it again as he fell against her for a moment. He savored her for a moment before releasing him self, standing quickly. Leaving her below.
"What do you want from me?" he whispered, staring down at her. She lay relaxed on the cold floor with her breasts bared and her skirt tangled above her waist.
"Sing to me."
And, quietly at first, he obeyed. He sang to her in the dark. Did he know that she belonged here? He knelt to her as she sang and she closed her eyes. He buttoned her dress and righted her clothes and she smiled. Such a gentleman.
She wondered if he was going to kill her now.
But she was just a ghost to him. You could not kill a ghost.
She loved it when he lifted her up, wrapping her in song. Was she going home now? Was she free? He told her to surrender but she had done that long ago. She was doomed now, she thought and smiled.
I've found you. I've seen. I can't be free.
You are freedom.
I will set you free.
Is this death?
You cannot kill a ghost.
Are we going home now?
Will you come?
Yes.