A/N: Don't own Phantom, but do own poem. Don't own Music of the
Night song. Just a suggestion I feel I get the most out of a story while
I'm listening to classical music, or someone like Kevin Kern, something
melancholy always works. So try that and get the most emotion and passion
from it as possible.
Thank you to the new Reviewers!! The reviews help me so much!
Erik stared up at the empty darkness. He had wandered through his memories many times. The one memory that seemed to take him back into the past the most was the memory of his mother. He could see her proud haughty face. Her eyes had been jet black, so black they looked purple. Her raven hair had cascaded around her waist, which was tiny and her figure was perfect hour glass. Her cultured voice echoed in his mind. She hated the confines of shoes, so she usually went barefoot unless they had company. Her charm was known all around Paris. She was a lady, but even ladies could be seduced. She was. The fact was not widely known, but she had an affair with an unknown Count. He had resulted from their union. Erik closed his eyes. A friend of the family had told him when he was very young how the screams of horror from his mother when she had first seen her son still haunted him. He had been an unwanted curse to her. He had paid detectives to search everywhere for her. They had come back with sickening news. She the belle of France had hung herself two years after she had given him up to the gypsies. Her body had been found swinging from a hastily made hangman's noose in an unseemly dirty hotel room. So she had died in misery and ruin. He sighed deeply. His brow was wrinkled with the thought. Too many young beauties were dying from broken hearts. He knew for certain that Christina would not die that way. He would not allow it. His resolve had returned and he was suddenly no long tired.
Several nights later Christina smiled in her sleep. She was dreaming again. Erik was there. She was sitting in what seemed to be twilight by a fountain, its waters laughing and gurgling from the stone angel pouring it out from a "clay" pot into the waters below. She was sitting daintily beside it. Erik appeared from the purple-grey shadows, his black hat pulled down low over his mask.
"Bonsoir Fantôme Erik," Christina smiled softly.
"Bonsoir," He greeted. He sat down beside her.
"How...?" She started to ask him how he was entering her dreams, but he gently placed a finger against her lips.
"Do not ask me that question," Erik said. "For I can not tell you," She opened her mouth to ask why, but he softly brushed his thumb across her cheek.
"So this is real? I am really talking to you?" She asked.
"Yes," He nodded. She placed her hand against his cheek.
"I can see you," Her eyes grew moist. "I can see," She breathed. "This is still a dream, anything can happen in your dreams," He was not smiling, but his eyes were. They held a light that had not been there before.
"Thank you for the gift," Christina whispered as if pulling from a daze and withdrawing her hand. He glanced at the ring. It was still on the chain around her neck.
"You're welcome," He nodded.
"I love it more than anything I've ever gotten," She rubbed it absentmindedly. The gold shone.
"I can see that," He laughed. It was a pleasant laugh, but it seemed rusty from not being used, but what did he have to laugh about?
"I have a gift for you, but it is not with me," She said sadly looking very beautiful in her long white lacy nightgown.
"Whatever it is just imagine it here with you and it will appear, this is a dream after all," He encouraged eager to see what she had for him. Christina closed her eyes, and then in her hands appeared a leather bound book. She opened them surprised. She fingered the pages of the book with reverence.
"I want you to have this," She held it out to him. He took it carefully and opened the book to the first page and read the inscription out loud.
"Christine Daae's favorite poems," He read, and then looked up confused. "Why are you giving me this?" He passed his fingers over the old cursive.
"She wrote all of her favorite poems and songs down in there. I felt it would help you to feel closer to her, I know how lonely you are,"
"Thank you," He breathed.
"Well go ahead. Read one," She urged. He carefully flipped a couple of pages and settled his eyes on Christine's flowing script.
"The sun rises each day," He began. "Without the help of any human interference. The stars shine throughout the misty nights, with no match to light them. The rivers and oceans flow through currents, and waves crash against the shores without a ship to guide them. It is like love. Love goes through each day with no help from anyone, except for higher power," He finished. The poem reverberated through him. No wonder Christine loved this poem. It sounded just like her, young and bright and full of words laced with passion.
"That was beautiful," Christina timidly touched his shoulder. He felt her soft hand through his heavy cloak and shirt.
"She always had very good tastes," He smiled. He looked sadly back down at the book. "And in the end she chose well,"
"Yes she did," Christina nodded. "I know how much she meant to you," He stayed silent his eyes averted. She searched for something to say to ease the pain of silence.
"Read some more?" She asked hopefully.
"Of course," He quickly turned a page, and was preparing to turn to another page, but suddenly stopped. "What...what is this?" He turned the book so she could see it.
"That is your song is it not?" She asked.
"Why yes, but how?" He said looking back down at the inked cursive.
"She loved your song Erik," Christina explained. "She sang it when she thought no one was listening. She did it beautifully,"
"Of that I have no doubt," He shook his head in wonderment. "She remembered every word,"
"She always had an ear for music," Christina smiled.
"Was she happy after she left me?" He asked suddenly.
"My grandfather said she was quite inconsolable for a few weeks. You left quite a mark on her," She said seriously.
"I was hoping I had not,"
"Erik how can you help it?"
"I wanted her to be happy, away from me," He said his voice sounding tortured.
"Once someone has met you they can not forget you," She said grasping his hand in her own. He closed his eyes savoring the soft warm feeling her palm gave off. "She was happy," Christina whispered. He looked up at her.
"I thought you said..."
"I did, but she carried a bit of you inside of her so she was never lonely or unhappy,"
"That is pleasant to know,"
"Yes," She lightly touched her fingers over his hand. "Erik...I have a request,"
"Yes?" He asked. She blushed uncertain of how to go about it.
"Will you sing it to me?" Christina asked. Erik opened his mouth to protest, but she stopped him with the sweetest look.
"Are you sure you wish to hear this?"
"Yes Erik,"
"It is apart of your grandmother's past, I hope it won't be to painful for you to hear,"
"I have no more tears to shed,"
"Very well," He said slowly. He stood and offered his hand to her. She took it, and stood and faced him. He took a deep breath, hoping she would enjoy it as much as when she heard her grandmother sing it. He looked at her, hoping she would change her mind. She tilted her head, waiting. A bemused smile crossed her lips. He closed his eyes and remembered a time when darkness had surrounded and cloaked him. Passion rippled through the air as he began to sing...
"Nighttime sharpens, heightens each sensation
Darkness stirs and wakes imagination
Silently the senses abandon their defenses"
He whispered it softly. She looked as if hypnotized at his mouth as he sang. Her eyes were wide with wonder.
"Slowly, gently night unfurls its splendor
Grasp it; sense it, tremulous and tender
Turn your face away from the garish light of day
Turn your thoughts away from cold, unfeeling light
And listen to the music of the night"
He slowly moved around her, as if gathering the darkness up like a
harvester. His hands rose and fell with the sound of his voice.
"Close your eyes and surrender to your darkest dreams
Purge your thoughts of the life you knew before
Close your eyes; let your spirit start to soar
And you'll live as you've never lived before."
Erik looked deeply into her eyes as he sang. The song was from his darker days, he did not want it to frighten her. Instead she looked enchanted with the song as he sang so he continued on.
"Softly, deftly music shall caress you
Hear it, feel it secretly possess you
Open up your mind, let your fantasies unwind
In this darkness which you know you can not fight
The darkness of the music of the night"
"Let your mind start a journey though a strange new world
Leave all thoughts of the life you knew before
Let your soul take you where you long to be
Only then can you belong to me"
She looked up at him feeling exhilarated. He held her tenderly. Never had she felt this way before. She felt like she was flying as she listened to him. His voice reached the climax of the song. She felt as if she was being lifted off her feet.
"Floating, falling sweet intoxication
Touch me, trust me, savor each sensation
Let the dream begin, let your darker side give in
To the power of the music that I write
The power of the music of the night"
He brushed his fingers against her shoulder and down her arm. She felt a
tingle go up her spine. Their eyes locked. He slowly paused, and then
continued on in a softer tone.
"You alone can make my song take flight
Help me make the music of the night"
She was speechless. Her breath had been knocked out of her by the power that the song had possessed. Erik caught her before she sank to her knees.
"That was beautiful," She whispered. She rested her head against his chest listening to his heart beat.
Erik stared up at the empty darkness. He had wandered through his memories many times. The one memory that seemed to take him back into the past the most was the memory of his mother. He could see her proud haughty face. Her eyes had been jet black, so black they looked purple. Her raven hair had cascaded around her waist, which was tiny and her figure was perfect hour glass. Her cultured voice echoed in his mind. She hated the confines of shoes, so she usually went barefoot unless they had company. Her charm was known all around Paris. She was a lady, but even ladies could be seduced. She was. The fact was not widely known, but she had an affair with an unknown Count. He had resulted from their union. Erik closed his eyes. A friend of the family had told him when he was very young how the screams of horror from his mother when she had first seen her son still haunted him. He had been an unwanted curse to her. He had paid detectives to search everywhere for her. They had come back with sickening news. She the belle of France had hung herself two years after she had given him up to the gypsies. Her body had been found swinging from a hastily made hangman's noose in an unseemly dirty hotel room. So she had died in misery and ruin. He sighed deeply. His brow was wrinkled with the thought. Too many young beauties were dying from broken hearts. He knew for certain that Christina would not die that way. He would not allow it. His resolve had returned and he was suddenly no long tired.
Several nights later Christina smiled in her sleep. She was dreaming again. Erik was there. She was sitting in what seemed to be twilight by a fountain, its waters laughing and gurgling from the stone angel pouring it out from a "clay" pot into the waters below. She was sitting daintily beside it. Erik appeared from the purple-grey shadows, his black hat pulled down low over his mask.
"Bonsoir Fantôme Erik," Christina smiled softly.
"Bonsoir," He greeted. He sat down beside her.
"How...?" She started to ask him how he was entering her dreams, but he gently placed a finger against her lips.
"Do not ask me that question," Erik said. "For I can not tell you," She opened her mouth to ask why, but he softly brushed his thumb across her cheek.
"So this is real? I am really talking to you?" She asked.
"Yes," He nodded. She placed her hand against his cheek.
"I can see you," Her eyes grew moist. "I can see," She breathed. "This is still a dream, anything can happen in your dreams," He was not smiling, but his eyes were. They held a light that had not been there before.
"Thank you for the gift," Christina whispered as if pulling from a daze and withdrawing her hand. He glanced at the ring. It was still on the chain around her neck.
"You're welcome," He nodded.
"I love it more than anything I've ever gotten," She rubbed it absentmindedly. The gold shone.
"I can see that," He laughed. It was a pleasant laugh, but it seemed rusty from not being used, but what did he have to laugh about?
"I have a gift for you, but it is not with me," She said sadly looking very beautiful in her long white lacy nightgown.
"Whatever it is just imagine it here with you and it will appear, this is a dream after all," He encouraged eager to see what she had for him. Christina closed her eyes, and then in her hands appeared a leather bound book. She opened them surprised. She fingered the pages of the book with reverence.
"I want you to have this," She held it out to him. He took it carefully and opened the book to the first page and read the inscription out loud.
"Christine Daae's favorite poems," He read, and then looked up confused. "Why are you giving me this?" He passed his fingers over the old cursive.
"She wrote all of her favorite poems and songs down in there. I felt it would help you to feel closer to her, I know how lonely you are,"
"Thank you," He breathed.
"Well go ahead. Read one," She urged. He carefully flipped a couple of pages and settled his eyes on Christine's flowing script.
"The sun rises each day," He began. "Without the help of any human interference. The stars shine throughout the misty nights, with no match to light them. The rivers and oceans flow through currents, and waves crash against the shores without a ship to guide them. It is like love. Love goes through each day with no help from anyone, except for higher power," He finished. The poem reverberated through him. No wonder Christine loved this poem. It sounded just like her, young and bright and full of words laced with passion.
"That was beautiful," Christina timidly touched his shoulder. He felt her soft hand through his heavy cloak and shirt.
"She always had very good tastes," He smiled. He looked sadly back down at the book. "And in the end she chose well,"
"Yes she did," Christina nodded. "I know how much she meant to you," He stayed silent his eyes averted. She searched for something to say to ease the pain of silence.
"Read some more?" She asked hopefully.
"Of course," He quickly turned a page, and was preparing to turn to another page, but suddenly stopped. "What...what is this?" He turned the book so she could see it.
"That is your song is it not?" She asked.
"Why yes, but how?" He said looking back down at the inked cursive.
"She loved your song Erik," Christina explained. "She sang it when she thought no one was listening. She did it beautifully,"
"Of that I have no doubt," He shook his head in wonderment. "She remembered every word,"
"She always had an ear for music," Christina smiled.
"Was she happy after she left me?" He asked suddenly.
"My grandfather said she was quite inconsolable for a few weeks. You left quite a mark on her," She said seriously.
"I was hoping I had not,"
"Erik how can you help it?"
"I wanted her to be happy, away from me," He said his voice sounding tortured.
"Once someone has met you they can not forget you," She said grasping his hand in her own. He closed his eyes savoring the soft warm feeling her palm gave off. "She was happy," Christina whispered. He looked up at her.
"I thought you said..."
"I did, but she carried a bit of you inside of her so she was never lonely or unhappy,"
"That is pleasant to know,"
"Yes," She lightly touched her fingers over his hand. "Erik...I have a request,"
"Yes?" He asked. She blushed uncertain of how to go about it.
"Will you sing it to me?" Christina asked. Erik opened his mouth to protest, but she stopped him with the sweetest look.
"Are you sure you wish to hear this?"
"Yes Erik,"
"It is apart of your grandmother's past, I hope it won't be to painful for you to hear,"
"I have no more tears to shed,"
"Very well," He said slowly. He stood and offered his hand to her. She took it, and stood and faced him. He took a deep breath, hoping she would enjoy it as much as when she heard her grandmother sing it. He looked at her, hoping she would change her mind. She tilted her head, waiting. A bemused smile crossed her lips. He closed his eyes and remembered a time when darkness had surrounded and cloaked him. Passion rippled through the air as he began to sing...
"Nighttime sharpens, heightens each sensation
Darkness stirs and wakes imagination
Silently the senses abandon their defenses"
He whispered it softly. She looked as if hypnotized at his mouth as he sang. Her eyes were wide with wonder.
"Slowly, gently night unfurls its splendor
Grasp it; sense it, tremulous and tender
Turn your face away from the garish light of day
Turn your thoughts away from cold, unfeeling light
And listen to the music of the night"
He slowly moved around her, as if gathering the darkness up like a
harvester. His hands rose and fell with the sound of his voice.
"Close your eyes and surrender to your darkest dreams
Purge your thoughts of the life you knew before
Close your eyes; let your spirit start to soar
And you'll live as you've never lived before."
Erik looked deeply into her eyes as he sang. The song was from his darker days, he did not want it to frighten her. Instead she looked enchanted with the song as he sang so he continued on.
"Softly, deftly music shall caress you
Hear it, feel it secretly possess you
Open up your mind, let your fantasies unwind
In this darkness which you know you can not fight
The darkness of the music of the night"
"Let your mind start a journey though a strange new world
Leave all thoughts of the life you knew before
Let your soul take you where you long to be
Only then can you belong to me"
She looked up at him feeling exhilarated. He held her tenderly. Never had she felt this way before. She felt like she was flying as she listened to him. His voice reached the climax of the song. She felt as if she was being lifted off her feet.
"Floating, falling sweet intoxication
Touch me, trust me, savor each sensation
Let the dream begin, let your darker side give in
To the power of the music that I write
The power of the music of the night"
He brushed his fingers against her shoulder and down her arm. She felt a
tingle go up her spine. Their eyes locked. He slowly paused, and then
continued on in a softer tone.
"You alone can make my song take flight
Help me make the music of the night"
She was speechless. Her breath had been knocked out of her by the power that the song had possessed. Erik caught her before she sank to her knees.
"That was beautiful," She whispered. She rested her head against his chest listening to his heart beat.