As usual, thank you all for the comments.
AuronLives wrote: A)Beware of the Mary Sue. Erik should not fall for this girl, and certainly not so fast. She is a young girl, and he is a man who is not interested in people in general.
B)Also beware of mixed metaphors. Cows don't sing!
C)Transitions, transitions, transititions and detail. Still that choppy feel here, keeps you from really losing yourself in a story.
D)Yep, Erik. Erik is a tough little bitch to write, but make sure you keep him in better character. I think he might have been annoyed at the fact that some random little girl washed up on the shore of his lake. I mean, his first thought on seeing Joseph Buquet in the torture chamber was yay, it isn't Nadir! So, perhaps provide more of a reason for his actions, and for why he is being so cordial with random lost little girl.
AN: I won't give away the ending of the story, but I will say that I love romantic tragedies. So don't worry about the Mary Sue issue. Secondly, I wrote sang like a crow. Not cow. :D About the lake issue, Joseph and Nadir are men, while Amelia is a girl. It shows in the books I referenced that Erik treated women much differently than men, almost like they were harmless. So that's why Erik wasn't too annoyed. AuronLives also went on to retype my story in beautiful detail… and I must say I loved it, yet it isn't just my style to write like that. I try to write how the brain thinks, which is an ever changing state of thought, so that's why it sounds a bit choppy. And I believe that less words can sometimes make more of an impact that a bunch of them. I'm not writing novel-quality work here, because it isn't a novel. This is a fun thing I do in my spare time, and I don't want to take it as a giant project. But thank you for the input!
PotO characters © Grand Master: Leroux
They were to leave in half an hour for the opera, Aida. Erik was silently dressing into his black silk evening coat, complimented by gold cufflinks. He placed a matching silk black top hat upon his head, and sat upon the sofa waiting patiently. Amelia noticed that he was fidgeting with the hem of his pant leg. How odd, she thought, he seems nervous.
Amelia, on the other hand, wasn't keeping a cool composure whatsoever. She was hustling about, washing her face, doing up her hair, wondering how to interact with all the 18th century people who stood directly above her at this very moment. She practiced in the giant mirror in her room, the only mirror in the entire house.
"Good evening," she quietly mouthed to her reflection. She curtsied a few times, extended her hand to herself and muttered, "What a delight to meet you, good sir." She felt like a total idiot.
In the middle of practicing her etiquette, she realized one fatal flaw. She had no dress. Panic filled her horrifyingly quickly. She threw open the grandiose mahogany doors to her room, and yelled, "Erik! What should I wear to this sort of thing?"
Erik turned his head to her and shrugged. Amelia let out a loud exasperated sigh, and tromped back into her room. Men.
"I wish I could just be the most stylish person at this entire opera!" she whined to herself.
There was a sound of rustling behind her, like the flapping of wings. She turned on her heel to see a gorgeous soft green gown lying upon her bed. Her mouth dropped open.
"I… I wish I had an ice cream Sunday?"
Another flap of wings and a small glass dish with ice cream, nuts, chocolate sauce, and whipped cream piled in it appeared on her vanity.
She squealed with joy, running to her new gown and pressing it against her body, admiring the lace trim, the silken flower print bodice, the gold beads laced into the sleeves of the dress. She twirled in the mirror, laughing.
"I am the all powerful genie!" she yelled, giggling madly.
Meanwhile, Erik threw a concerned glance towards the doors of Amelia's room.
Amelia quickly undressed, throwing her old clothes on the floor, not bothering to care if they became wrinkled or not. She wrestled into the dress excitedly, which formed to her perfectly once she got it all the way on.
"I wish I had awesome accessories to go with this dress!" she yelled, throwing her arms in the air like a madwoman.
And, like magic, a diamond necklace appeared around her bare neck, and a matching bracelet on her wrist. Soft shoes seemed to lace themselves up around her feet, satin gloves grew around her fingers, and a glittering diamond tiara graced her brown hair.
She gave one last squeal, feverishly clapping her hands together, and then opened the bedroom doors. She glided out to Erik, extended her gloved hand, and said in her best British accent, "Good evening, and what a delight it is to meet you, good sir."
Erik had explained that he could not sit beside her in plain sight in the infamous box five. However, he would be right beside her, concealed by a hollowed pillar.
"Wonderful!" Amelia sang, "Shall we go?" and with that she turned to head out the doors of the main living area.
"Stop!" Erik called to her.
She halted abruptly and turned, looking confused.
Erik approached her slowly, almost nervously, and began singing a low tune.
"Erik, this is no time for…" but Amelia couldn't finish her sentence. The beautiful music in Erik's voice began running warmly through her like wine. It pulsated and swirled, clouding her brain into a hazy dream. Erik took his gloved hand and led Amelia by hers out to a lake, where he picked up a small light. He continued to sing softly, and Amelia could only see the dancing light of his lantern on the water's surface. It seemed like that boat ride was just as if Amelia was floating across the water on a cloud. Sounds other than Erik seemed deafened, and colours seemed muted. She felt herself falling back into a warm black abyss full of the soaring notes from the phantom of the opera himself.
My plan to blind Amelia with my music succeeded. She did not say a word the entire journey to the surface. She only smiled and followed me like a sheep. I was just like the pied piper, leading this creature away from my sacred home down in hell.
Amelia awoke form her dream to the sound of footsteps. Hundreds of footsteps. Then a voice.
"Mademoiselle? Are you alright?"
A young man, perhaps in his mid 20's, with a defined smooth face looked intently into her eyes. She felt herself blush.
"Um, yeah… I mean, yes. Yes, I am quiet alright."
She began to fan herself with her hand, and leaned against one of the many marble pillars in the Paris Opera's grand entrance hall. He left me, she screamed to herself. She felt a pang of panic hit her. Hundreds of patrons with opera glasses hurried up the stairs to their seats. When was the first act going to start?
"Mademoiselle? You look as if you are about to faint. Here, let me accompany you to your seat."
The young man offered his arm to Amelia, and she bashfully received it. He led her across the hall, up the stairs, then onto the landing.
"Forgive me, miss, but I do not know where you are sitting."
"Box five, monsieur," she managed to say.
He raised his eyebrows and chuckled. "Right. This way then."
Amelia noticed how proper he walked, and tried to remember how to walk like a lady. Chin up, shoulders back, chest out, butt out… she felt like a moron, but no one seemed to think she walked oddly.
They finally reached box five, after conquering dozens of stairs. The man opened the door for her and bowed. She nodded her head slightly in acknowledgment, and walked into the small parlor of box five.
"Oh, monsieur?" she asked, turning to face him before he shut the door, "I do not know your name."
The man seemed mildly surprised, but he flashed his gorgeous white smile and said, "I am Raoul de Chagny."
Amelia fidgeted in her seat. She felt stupid sitting up here, all alone, clutching the folds of her dress in her hand. The first act had not yet started.
She can't believe that was Raoul! The fop! And she also couldn't believe that she, fop-bashing Amelia, had felt that way about him. His smile made her insides quiver. She groaned a little from the sad irony of it all.
"Erik?" she whispered.
Silence.
"Erik? Are you here yet?"
More silence. Then a soft voice that seemed to be sitting right next to her said, "Yes, my dear. I am here."
Amelia felt a little less paranoid now. She smiled, "What took you?"
"A phantom comes and goes as he pleases."
"Where am I to meet you after the performance?"
"In front of the grand stair. Wait till everyone has left."
She confirmed this plan with a quiet 'ok', and applauded as the lights dimmed and the curtain rose.
What a performance! She rose from her seat, clapping, yelling 'Bravo!' just like she saw people in the movies do it.
"Oh Erik, that was marvelous!"
No answer.
Amelia frowned. He must have left already, she thought.
She made her way down to the stairs just as Erik had instructed. There she waited, seeing all the Parisians in their formal wear float out the doors to there awaiting carriages. How romantic it all was.
The crowd began to thin, and Amelia grew concerned. Where was Erik? She looked at the giant golden clock about the stairs. She'd been waiting for 20 minutes now. Then 30 minutes. Then 40. No one was left now, only the occasional staff hurrying about, fixing things or bringing food to the actors. Amelia felt tears in her eyes.
I have done it. I had rid myself of that burden for good. Now she can go home to her mother and live life without me.
My home is so quiet now. I can only hear the fire crackling in the hearth and Ayesha's purring from under my hand. It's immensely calming. Yet…
No. I cannot go back now. I have released that little bird from her cage, and now she can fly away. For good.
Amelia could find Erik's house easily. Five floors down, and across a lake. But she was so hurt about being abandoned, she simply sat on the last stair and cried. This seemed to go on for a while, until she heard footsteps behind her. She hurriedly stood up straight again, and saw that it was Raoul.
"Why, if it isn't you again. What is the matter now, my dear?"
Amelia wiped her face, but she could tell it was still red and blotchy from her tears. Improvise, she though. "My coachman never came to collect me this evening. I am afraid I'm stranded."
"Oh you poor creature!" Raoul exclaimed. Amelia thought he was overreacting a bit. "Let my driver take you home," Raoul said, offering his hand.
Amelia hesitated, looking around to see if Erik might be watching. Yet he wasn't. She then looked Raoul in the eye, and took his hand. "It would be a pleasure, monsieur."
A/N: Ohhh, thedrama! Updates soon. Comment!