A/N- Don't kill me 'cause I haven't updated in like two weeks. I've been in
recovery for one week, the other, swim team was ending, so what do you
expect me to do? Sorry again. Anyway, recovery sucks...trust me. I can't eat
hardly anything, I can't do anything that will get me overheated, my throat
is killing me, and I can't drink soda! HELP! Oh well, story gonna end soon,
hope you like, please R&R.
Disclaimer- Yes, I know, I don't own the song...that sucks...and I know I left out many parts and I'm not using the original version...I had to leave some room for the finish of the chappie, give me a break!
XI.
The black halls echoed back the monotonous sound of Christine's shoes hitting the solid, grime covered floor. The Daae girl had not yet found the source of the slow, peaceful violin lullaby. I should just turn back, she thought after lifting a cobweb that had fallen from the ceiling onto her shawl covered shoulder. But no matter how her mind shouted thoughts of turning away from the beautiful melody, her body would not move, except for forward, into the darkness. She persisted in her thoughts, then surrendered to the power of the music and continued on without question.
Christine shivered in the cold, dark theatre. It had been exactly one year since she had set foot within at least five miles of the theatre. She had missed the grandeur, the love, the compassion that showed in everything that was built. She missed the stage, the thrill of being in front of an audience whose hushed voices and silent chatter all ceases when you stand in front of them, with the lights upon you, waiting to begin a marvelous show filled with romance, mystery, beauty, and tragedy. Magic happens at the theatre, she decided. But she knew that more than just staged magic happens at that particular theatre. More than that. She herself witnessed it in the most horrible of ways. Erik. Even his name caused her a weak knee whenever she heard it. She remembered the very night she tore his mask away for the first time, looking upon a face of horror.
[Flashback]
Erik sat at the organ, his gloved hands pounding away at the smooth wooden keys. Christine could feel the presence of tension in the air. She did not know the reason for his tension, though it seemed as though every day he was tense. He lived his life tense. Christine was a foolish girl at the time. Her curiosity got the best of her all the time. She looked into her angel's bedroom secretly, the ash wooden door pushed slightly open to allow her to see a small bit of the room, as well as the owner of the room. This cannot be his room, she thought silently, this looks like a dead man's eternal resting place. The room was black. She could think of nothing more to describe it. Instead of a bed, she saw a coffin with the lid firmly shut. The tables were all a dark wood she could not name. As the same as the rest of the house, there were no windows, though in this room, it seemed more sad to think about. How could he live this way?
He felt her presence, though he did not acknowledge it. He continued to pound away at the keys, pausing only a minute or so to write down his work. Christine was always the curious type, he thought. He was worried that he had scared her at first when he had appeared to her in her dressing room mirror. She had not seen him ever before. She had been frightened by the appearance, but then relieved and joyous. Their lesson had not yet begun, because she had not seemed ready. She wished to go to her room for the night and rest to become refreshed and ready to sing, but it had been only three hours and she was at the door, peering in at him. Though he did not hear her come in through the door, heading towards the organ and her angel.
She had to find out why he was wearing the mask. She could not stand not knowing. What was he hiding? Her footsteps did not make a sound on the black carpeted floors, though she doubted that he would hear her because of the volume of his Don Juan Triumphant. If he had seen her, it would have appeared that she was gliding towards him. Her face was set, her thoughts, ready, and her hand was reaching slowly out to her angel. Just as Erik was feeling the presence of someone behind him, he turned around, but it was too late. His white silk mask fell to the floor, revealing his face to Christine Daae, who backed away in fear of what she saw.
"Damn you! Curse you! Is this what you wanted to see?! Well, here it is! Gaze upon me! Look at me! This is what you wanted to see! Now you know of the angel who lives in hell! Now you know the true face of Erik!" he spat at her, raging and storming over to where Christine sat, weeping on the floor of his room, terrified.
[End of Flashback]
Christine looked into the eternal darkness. She reached up to her pale, though still cream colored cheek and found a silent tear gliding down it. More came and soon she was crying soft whispers of weeping sounds resounding off the blank walls of the endless-seeming hallway that lead her to the violin music. She paused for a moment, finally regaining control of herself, to kneel down on the floor and cry for everything that had happened to her. It seemed that misfortune was what she had everywhere she went, every day of her life. She could not stand the feel of helplessness inside of her, the presence of loss. But, after a few more minutes of shuddered tears, she found the strength to get up and keep going, continuing on in the direction of the soft lullaby.
As Christine grew nearer to the source of the music, she began to look about her as she walked, knowing that that particular hallway seemed vaguely familiar, though she could not think of why. The sounds of the violin's strings began to grow louder and closer and every crescendo was becoming grander and more extravagant and it seemed as though the musician was pouring his life and soul into what he was piecing together, as if he were making the song up as he went along. Christine had become fond of the music in a very short amount of time, and she was beginning to wonder who was playing such a piece. As the violin held out a high note, she felt herself take in a deep breath. Then, the violin silenced altogether. Christine felt a deep sense of loss inside her, sad that the music had ended. But, the violin started again, this time, playing a piece familiar to her, though she had only heard it once before, and began to sing:
"Night time sharpens...
Heightens each sensation...
Darkness wakes...
And stirs imagination...
Silently the senses...
Abandon their defenses...
Helpless to resist...
The notes I write...
For I compose...
The Music of the Night..."
Her small footsteps began to draw near of the room containing the music...
"Slowly, gently...
Night unfurls its splendor...
Grasp it...
Sense it...
Tremulous and tender..."
The darkness was becoming darker and the hallway, more familiar...
"Hearing is believing...
Music is deceiving...
Hard as light...
Yet soft as candlelight...
Dare you trust...
The Music of the Night..."
Christine began to realize where the violin was leading her...
"Close your eyes...
Start a journey through a strange new world...
Leave all thoughts of the world you knew before...
Close your eyes...
And let music set you free...
Only then can you belong...
To me..."
Christine's footsteps were echoing, though she could not hear it above the music...
"Floating, falling...
Sweet intoxication...
Touch me, trust me...
Savor each sensation...
Let the dream begin...
Let your darker side give in..."
The music was closer...
"To the power of the music that I write..."
She reached the door...
"The power of..."
She grasped the bronze handle...
"The Music of the..."
She opened the door...
Christine never finished the song, for she found that she had opened the door to her dressing room. The violin was playing unaccompanied. She slowly tiptoed in, and the door slammed shut and locked itself, as the violin fell to the floor and shattered at her feet.
Disclaimer- Yes, I know, I don't own the song...that sucks...and I know I left out many parts and I'm not using the original version...I had to leave some room for the finish of the chappie, give me a break!
XI.
The black halls echoed back the monotonous sound of Christine's shoes hitting the solid, grime covered floor. The Daae girl had not yet found the source of the slow, peaceful violin lullaby. I should just turn back, she thought after lifting a cobweb that had fallen from the ceiling onto her shawl covered shoulder. But no matter how her mind shouted thoughts of turning away from the beautiful melody, her body would not move, except for forward, into the darkness. She persisted in her thoughts, then surrendered to the power of the music and continued on without question.
Christine shivered in the cold, dark theatre. It had been exactly one year since she had set foot within at least five miles of the theatre. She had missed the grandeur, the love, the compassion that showed in everything that was built. She missed the stage, the thrill of being in front of an audience whose hushed voices and silent chatter all ceases when you stand in front of them, with the lights upon you, waiting to begin a marvelous show filled with romance, mystery, beauty, and tragedy. Magic happens at the theatre, she decided. But she knew that more than just staged magic happens at that particular theatre. More than that. She herself witnessed it in the most horrible of ways. Erik. Even his name caused her a weak knee whenever she heard it. She remembered the very night she tore his mask away for the first time, looking upon a face of horror.
[Flashback]
Erik sat at the organ, his gloved hands pounding away at the smooth wooden keys. Christine could feel the presence of tension in the air. She did not know the reason for his tension, though it seemed as though every day he was tense. He lived his life tense. Christine was a foolish girl at the time. Her curiosity got the best of her all the time. She looked into her angel's bedroom secretly, the ash wooden door pushed slightly open to allow her to see a small bit of the room, as well as the owner of the room. This cannot be his room, she thought silently, this looks like a dead man's eternal resting place. The room was black. She could think of nothing more to describe it. Instead of a bed, she saw a coffin with the lid firmly shut. The tables were all a dark wood she could not name. As the same as the rest of the house, there were no windows, though in this room, it seemed more sad to think about. How could he live this way?
He felt her presence, though he did not acknowledge it. He continued to pound away at the keys, pausing only a minute or so to write down his work. Christine was always the curious type, he thought. He was worried that he had scared her at first when he had appeared to her in her dressing room mirror. She had not seen him ever before. She had been frightened by the appearance, but then relieved and joyous. Their lesson had not yet begun, because she had not seemed ready. She wished to go to her room for the night and rest to become refreshed and ready to sing, but it had been only three hours and she was at the door, peering in at him. Though he did not hear her come in through the door, heading towards the organ and her angel.
She had to find out why he was wearing the mask. She could not stand not knowing. What was he hiding? Her footsteps did not make a sound on the black carpeted floors, though she doubted that he would hear her because of the volume of his Don Juan Triumphant. If he had seen her, it would have appeared that she was gliding towards him. Her face was set, her thoughts, ready, and her hand was reaching slowly out to her angel. Just as Erik was feeling the presence of someone behind him, he turned around, but it was too late. His white silk mask fell to the floor, revealing his face to Christine Daae, who backed away in fear of what she saw.
"Damn you! Curse you! Is this what you wanted to see?! Well, here it is! Gaze upon me! Look at me! This is what you wanted to see! Now you know of the angel who lives in hell! Now you know the true face of Erik!" he spat at her, raging and storming over to where Christine sat, weeping on the floor of his room, terrified.
[End of Flashback]
Christine looked into the eternal darkness. She reached up to her pale, though still cream colored cheek and found a silent tear gliding down it. More came and soon she was crying soft whispers of weeping sounds resounding off the blank walls of the endless-seeming hallway that lead her to the violin music. She paused for a moment, finally regaining control of herself, to kneel down on the floor and cry for everything that had happened to her. It seemed that misfortune was what she had everywhere she went, every day of her life. She could not stand the feel of helplessness inside of her, the presence of loss. But, after a few more minutes of shuddered tears, she found the strength to get up and keep going, continuing on in the direction of the soft lullaby.
As Christine grew nearer to the source of the music, she began to look about her as she walked, knowing that that particular hallway seemed vaguely familiar, though she could not think of why. The sounds of the violin's strings began to grow louder and closer and every crescendo was becoming grander and more extravagant and it seemed as though the musician was pouring his life and soul into what he was piecing together, as if he were making the song up as he went along. Christine had become fond of the music in a very short amount of time, and she was beginning to wonder who was playing such a piece. As the violin held out a high note, she felt herself take in a deep breath. Then, the violin silenced altogether. Christine felt a deep sense of loss inside her, sad that the music had ended. But, the violin started again, this time, playing a piece familiar to her, though she had only heard it once before, and began to sing:
"Night time sharpens...
Heightens each sensation...
Darkness wakes...
And stirs imagination...
Silently the senses...
Abandon their defenses...
Helpless to resist...
The notes I write...
For I compose...
The Music of the Night..."
Her small footsteps began to draw near of the room containing the music...
"Slowly, gently...
Night unfurls its splendor...
Grasp it...
Sense it...
Tremulous and tender..."
The darkness was becoming darker and the hallway, more familiar...
"Hearing is believing...
Music is deceiving...
Hard as light...
Yet soft as candlelight...
Dare you trust...
The Music of the Night..."
Christine began to realize where the violin was leading her...
"Close your eyes...
Start a journey through a strange new world...
Leave all thoughts of the world you knew before...
Close your eyes...
And let music set you free...
Only then can you belong...
To me..."
Christine's footsteps were echoing, though she could not hear it above the music...
"Floating, falling...
Sweet intoxication...
Touch me, trust me...
Savor each sensation...
Let the dream begin...
Let your darker side give in..."
The music was closer...
"To the power of the music that I write..."
She reached the door...
"The power of..."
She grasped the bronze handle...
"The Music of the..."
She opened the door...
Christine never finished the song, for she found that she had opened the door to her dressing room. The violin was playing unaccompanied. She slowly tiptoed in, and the door slammed shut and locked itself, as the violin fell to the floor and shattered at her feet.