In the year 1936, I was experimenting with a type of chemical that eased the burning sensation that often plagued me. It was one of the many things I did to keep my mind focused on the present. However, when I accidentally mixed two chemicals, it created a paralytic, and the fumes immediately sent the person who dare waft the concoction, into a comatic like sleep.
It was a great help in letting my memories ease away, in a dreamless sleep, but unfortunately the substance was highly addictive. For nearly twenty years, I could not bear to not let the fumes intoxicate me, and send me into a dreamless state. It was a nightly ritual which soon became habitual over the years.
I realized one night however on what this- this potion, it was controlling me. So I there after quit suddenly, because I could not bear to let a substance rule me. However, I kept the procedures into making this hideous concoction tucked away, in a place where I could easily retrieve it; dare it ever prove useful again.
I found no use for it, until Christine began to walk the halls once more, and the wheels in my mind kept turning. I had an ebbing feeling that she had not in fact remembered me, nor my voice, so I was there to help her actually. After all what are you if not for your memories?
I did not however 'capture her' as you might think. No, she came of her own free will did she not? She neared the mirror, towards the sound of my voice and mark this- of her own accord. I only used the drug, because I dare not want to frighten her. I dabbed the edge of my handkerchief in the liquid, careful not to breath though my poor excuse of a nose, and swiftly pressed it against her face. It was potent enough for a grown man to take in, and faint like a fair lady. Apprehension grew on me, as I questioned myself whether I used too much of the dastardly concoction.
She fell into my arms, as if a bout of sleep had just plagued her. I cradled her like a piece of china, gently lifted her body into a horizontal position, and carried her, as if she where my bride.
As I carried her down the stairs, feeling an odd pang of nostalgia creep up my spine. She was light, perhaps lighter than she had been before, but that worried me not. She had no signs of malnutrition, and as long as she was healthy, I was pleased. Yet she had changed subtly, her hair was ironed flat, and cut to the nape of her neck, the golden edges curving away from her delicate visage. She was also not as fair as I had remembered her; perhaps it was the climate of the states? But she was Christine there was no doubt of this fact; her face was lightly dusted with 'freckles' as most might call them, which gave a certain finesse to her character, making her child-like innocence seem transparent.
Her clothing was a uniform, which did not impress the eyes. Her usually pressed and tidy
vest was opened, and slightly wrinkled. A tie adorned her neck, which looked surprisingly well on the former Opera starlet, but was loosened, obviously to increase her comfort whilst cleaning. An undershirt which was supposed to be tucked into the trousers was pulled out, and a few of the buttons were either missing, or simply undone. Her trousers were rolled up to her knees, and were covered in a sticky substance, which I dared not to touch again.
But she was still my Christine- no, she wasn't mine and she had never really been had she? Her heart all ways belonged to her Vicomte, but now as time had slowly inked by, perhaps a wedge had formed in their marriage. This was sliver of a hope that I had then, and against all chances, I kept the thought rooted in my mind.
My thoughts at that time were calculating, and distant, but I had yet to realize that the second part of the potion had yet to take effect- the paralytic. She was only in a deep sleep now, unable to wake until the morning, but her body was still moving.
She writhed in my grasp for a moment, and adjusted herself against the uncomfortable position she was in. I froze, all most in terror, as she drew near my body, and tried to rest her face against my torso, whilst her delicate fingers softly pressed against the only part of my face that was not deformed- my mouth.
Shivers went through my entire being as her touch was on my skin. Oh had it been so long, to feel the touch of another human being? Her hand paused for a moment stayed, long enough for my lips to move against her finger. But wo! Gravity had taken it's effect, and her arm fell once more to her side, folded ever so neatly.
A voice shouted back, that she did not desire to touch me. Her instincts had driven her to near the warmest living thing, which just happened to be me. It was a scientific thought, but it was full of apathy, a thing I despised the most.
Her body was faced towards me, and I stopped admiring the young woman I held in my arms. But I had to continue. With her slender body, supported against mine, I continued onward, pushing myself not to break down, and shed tears of joy by her mere touch.
The cellar of the theatre had been used for storage, but because it was such a long trip down there few peopled dared to venture down alone. I do believe the aura of the cellars, held a forbidden feeling. This however was a use to my advantage.
I had reconstructed the damp storage room, and for the past months, it was a complete duplicate of that under the Paris Opera. I carried her lithe form to her old bed, and tentatively laid her on the satin and silk sheets.
I had begun to take a different drug at that point on- it was the closeness of Christine, and I would not part with it. I was willing to pay any cost.
I remember waking up the next morning in a completely new surrounding. I bolted out of the bed, and looked around frantically. But my fear was replaced by awe, as I began to take in my surroundings. I was in a four poster bed, and large black curtains were pulled shut around me. I remembered that they were used in the seventeenth and eighteenth century Europe because of the cold climate.
The dark wood was engraved with floral shapes. I got up and slowly followed a cut in the wood with my fingers in amazement. But that was not the only thing that fascinated me. The bed was able to hold ten people quite comfortably, and the linens on the bed were of fine white satin, and Egyptian cotton. The mere material of the fabric I had been sleeping on had to cost over one hundred thousand dollars.
I literally thought I had died and gone to heaven. I wrenched open the heavy bed curtains, ready to spring out; my curiosity running high. But my joy had ended there. My legs unfortunately could not seem to work. I tried to remember what happened to me the last night, but anything after my fingers touching the glass was a mystery to me.
I decided that it was a necessity to see my surroundings, other than my bed, and rolled over the side, my limp legs following. The heavy curtains moved out of my way, as if afraid that the end would be crushed by my body. I impacted the hard concrete my side, and felt my arm press into my side; a fire seemed to spread through my arm. I shook it off for a moment, and tried to crawl out from the tangle of the black bed curtains.
My head found a way to peak through the fabric, but I soon forgot the luxurious surroundings, to see a figure sitting in a chair. I lay there, staring at the figure. He was dressed unusually, and wore extremely formal clothing. But that was not what caught my attention. It was a black mask he wore. It covered his entire face with the exception of his mouth and the portion of chin below it.
Yet he was still as a corpse. I concluded that he was sleeping, and crept closer; using my elbows and arms to draw me closer to this mystery man I knew nothing of. I was close to him now, and if I really tried I could touch him. Yet I remained a few feet away, just staring at him. Who was this masked man?
"Bonjour Mademoiselle"
The voice awoke me from my thoughts and I stared up at him in amazement. He had been watching me, I realized, and a heat spread over my face; blood rushing to my face in embarrassment. I had to say something so I countered with another French greeting.
"Salut" I replied in a slightly shaky tone. The side of his lip had turned upwards in amusement, as I felt his icy gaze.
"Ramper de n'est pas qu'une dame devrait faire" he responded silkily, amusement hinting in his voice.
He had gone to quickly for me to catch what little French I knew, and I only moved up to a normal sitting position, and slowly asked in the little French I knew "Parlez-vous l'anglais?"
He nodded and slowly stood, holding a hand out for me to take. I paused for a moment, and sniffed the air, letting a light rose scent drift into my nose. Little did I know what it really was. As if by my legs had stood, as if they had never been frozen in the first place, I was mystified by his presence, and I didn't even give a second thought when I took his hand, and followed him like a little puppy.
He led me back to the bed and gently stated "Your day has been quite tiring, you will need energy later, take rest" It was not a request, no 'please' or 'would you mind's' but a gentle saying as if that was the way it was. I obeyed and slowly crept back into the bed.
But something tugged at me, as I stared up at the masked man. "What is you name?" I whispered in amazement.
The air was still for a moment.
"Erik" And then he left me to fall asleep once more.
The smell of roses has been in my memories since that day.
I was going to write more, but unfortunately my schedule has been very busy. Expect to have another update in a couple of weeks. Yes it is shorter. Thank you FriendorPhantom and Moonjava for another review, and to La Regina, a new reviewer! The movie is going to be out in fifteen days, just a tiny heads up! Oh and Erik said that " A lady should not be crawling about" Just incase your not familiar with the French language.