I'm still here people! I haven't gone anywhere, I just had that little thing called 'real life' get in my way a bit. However, I've returned, and by God's grace, I'll be updating more frequently. My Mom has read my story, and has become my Beta-reader, so it'll now be better than ever. Also, I'm nursing the idea of actually getting this story published when it's finished. What's you opinion on that? If I published it, would you read it?
Chapter Five
Darkness. That's all she could see. A darkness that surrounded her and pressed on her like a vise. She couldn't see. She couldn't breathe. She was frightened. "Michael?" she called out. "Mhegan? Mother?" No answer. Suddenly, a light shone up ahead. A pure, white light, having no shape. Just swirling… whiteness. It began to draw closer. 'Kristen,' it called. "Who are you?" she asked. 'I am your Angel of Music. Come to me, Angel of Music.' Kristen found herself inexorably drawn to the voice which seemed to emanate from the light. The comforting voice surrounded her, wrapping her in a cocoon of sound which seemed to come from Heaven itself. As Kristen reached the source of the voice, the white light coalesced into the form of a snow-white mask, framed by a corona of swirling light. A mask, the shape of which she knew all too well. "What do you want with me?" she asked, her voice sounding hollow and incomplete. The mask said nothing, but merely stared at her with invisible eyes. 'You wish to sing.' It was more a statement than a question. Kristen said nothing, and nodded. 'Then sing you shall.' To Kristen, the mask appeared to smile in its own way. The light behind the mask grew brighter, until its rays engulfed Kristen in its pure white… innocence.
:---
"And then, I woke up," Kristen said. She glanced at Michael, who stood by the window of her hospital room, gazing out at the afternoon sun, and appearing lost in thought. "What does it mean?" she queried to no one in particular.
"I'm not sure, Kris," he replied, answering her undirected question. "I'm not much of an interpreter."
Kristen was going to be discharged from the hospital in a few minutes, and Michael had offered to drive her home; much to Kristen's secret delight. And much to Michael's joy, Kristen agreed.
A nurse came in at that moment and told Kristen that she could leave. Michael turned.
"I'll wait outside in the car for you."
Kristen nodded, stood up, grabbed the clothes her mother had left for her, and walked into the bathroom.
It took only a few moments to change and make herself look presentable. She examined herself in the mirror, and was pleased with what she saw. With tenderness, she pinned the crimson rosebud to her breast and fingered it gently.
Suddenly, a soft wind blew across her hair, and a gentle voice whispered her name. "Kristen. Kristen." Startled, she whirled around, but no one else was in the room; and, oddly enough, the window near the bed was closed. Common sense soon replaced her momentary fear. The building's central air conditioning unit turning on had probably caused the wind. 'And the voice?' her mind asked itself.
"Probably coming from the vent," she mused to herself, aloud. "Someone from another room, most likely." Even though she had come up with some reasonable explanations, the apprehension she felt refused to leave her. Her skin prickled, and the hair on the back of her neck stood up. The air was thick with tension, and almost impossible to breathe. She had to get out, and quickly too. Exiting the bathroom, she gathered the remainder of her things, shoved them in her backpack, which she slung over her shoulder, and headed towards the elevator.
The door opened immediately on her floor and she stepped inside, finding herself alone in the car. The doors closed with a silent hiss, and Kristen couldn't help but feel that she had just been shut off from the world. She pressed the button for the ground floor, and with a jolt, the car began to move. Its descent seemed slow and deliberate, even though no one else was getting on. It seemed like centuries would pass between each floor, and Kristen began to get impatient.
She wasn't claustrophobic; she just wasn't comfortable in the small room she was in. Made of highly polished steel, the walls of the elevator resembled a large mirror. She almost felt sorry for the person who had to come in here to clean and polish the elevators every day, yet admired them for that very same reason. She could see her reflection so clearly on the door -the only place where the handrail didn't cut through- and smiled.
All of a sudden, another soft breeze ruffled her hair, and she heard her name called again. Her smile turning into a worried frown, she stared fixedly at the elevator doors -from where the voice had emanated. Her eyes locked on her reflection, and she noticed it ripple, like a breeze blowing softly on the surface of the water. Her eyes narrowed, and her curiosity piqued. Against her better judgment, she took several cautious steps forward until she stood just two feet away. Again, the voice called her name.
"Come to me, my angel."
Kristen stared transfixed at her image, as her hand lifted towards the door, though not of her will. As her fingers almost grazed the surface, she was snapped back to reality as a black-gloved hand shot through the door's rippling surface and gripped her own. She opened her mouth to scream, but a numbing cold froze every fiber of her being. Ever so gently, a voice began to sing to her. A male voice so pure, it was simply perfection. There was no other way to describe it. As it called to her, her body responded, as her mind merely witnessed the fateful turn of events.
She stepped 'through' the door and into darkness. Not an evil darkness, just one devoid of physical light. Oddly, it reminded her of her dream. The same apprehension, the same feeling of breathlessness, and the same sensation of knowing that someone was there, watching… waiting.
She was also aware that whoever had gripped her hand the first time was still there; and still had a firm hold on her wrist. A shaft of lantern-light fell across her face, and she was momentarily blinded. She squinted and turned away, shielding her eyes from the harsh glare. Immediately, the lantern was turned away from her face, and bright purple and blue spots swam through her vision -afterimages of the source of the intrusive beam.
"Forgive me, mademoiselle. I had forgotten that your eyes do not adjust as well as mine."
Something deep inside Kristen stirred. Even though she had never before heard this man's voice, almost instinctively, she knew. There was only one whose voice was so physically pure, that even his normal speaking voice was captivating. Her vision cleared, she turned to look at him. Instantly, he dropped her hand and turned away from her, but Kristen still caught the briefest flash of white beneath the collar of his coat.
"I would prefer it if you turned away, mademoiselle. You might not like what you see."
Kristen squared her shoulders. "And how would you know that, monsieur?"
"I know much. And have experienced much, as well. Far more than most, I daresay."
She smiled. "Let me be the judge of that, Erik."
Caught entirely off guard, the man whirled around to face her. There was no denying the look of utter shock beneath that stunning white mask that covered his face. His bright golden eyes sparked with an almost curious anger. Kristen realized that she had breached a major defense by letting him realize that she knew his name. For if she knew his name, then surely there must be more of him that she knew; and that fact both amused and frightened him. But for his benefit, Kristen said nothing more to him.
As for Kristen, she wasn't sure what to make of the whole situation. She had no idea what happened, or how she got to wherever she was, but there was one thing she was certain of; she couldn't explain the feeling of absolute… rightness about it. To her, it seemed like a dream come true. Before her stood the man she had cried over and dreamed about since she had opened the first page of her Phantom of the Opera book nearly four years ago. How many times had Kristen's fingertips brushed the surface of her own full-length mirror, hoping beyond hope? How many times had she lain awake at night, listening through the deafening silence, straining to hear his voice? Yet now, here he stood before her, the ghost that haunted her dreams, the perfect voice that inspired her own to strive for perfection. It was almost too much to take in.
In fact, it WAS too much to take in. Kristen once again felt her left arm go numb. Her breathing became shallow and ragged, as her heart pounded loudly in her ears. She swayed, her equilibrium thrown off. She felt herself falling, and flung her hand outward. It was caught in Erik's strong grip as he pulled her towards him. He slid to the ground, holding her gently in his arms as her breathing slowed. However, though her breathing stabilized, she was unconscious.
Erik contemplated how to handle the situation. He had never had a woman faint in his arms, and he wasn't quite sure what to do. He couldn't take her home; it was too dangerous. 'Dangerous to whom?' he thought to himself. This woman had surprised him by knowing his name. That fact left him feeling quite vulnerable; not a sensation he was used to.
Undaunted, however, he gathered her in his arms, and made his way out of the cellar towards the upper levels. Careful to avoid any prying eyes, he stealthily edged his way towards the dressing rooms. Several of them were not in use, so Erik decided it was best to care for her there, than in his home. Placing her gently on the bed, and leaving her pack nearby, he stood back and stared at her, thoughtfully. She hadn't fainted out of fear, of that much he was certain. When his eyes met hers, there was no look of shock or horror, only one of serene understanding. His hand trembling slightly, he reached forward and brushed a stray lock of hair from her face.
With an audible gasp, he backed away and exited, pulling the door quietly shut behind him. His emotions bordered on the edge of something forbidden. He didn't know how or why he brought her here, but something reached out to him. Something across space and time, and he decided to embrace it. 'Just as you embraced her.' He shook his head, clearing it, and then stalked all the way back to his home. Slamming the door shut, he sat at the immense pipe organ and threw himself into his Don Juan Triumphant, almost as if in punishment. He refused to think about the all-knowing young woman who had fainted mysteriously in his arms. 'Who is she? But more importantly, how much does she know?' After striking a powerful chord, he allowed the music to drain away, leaving him gasping for breath in the vacuum of silence that always followed his work. He would find out more about this woman who knew his name. He would find out how much she knew, and then he would decide what to do with her. He sighed. Sleep would not be his companion this night. Too much had transpired. And more was to come. So much more.
As per my promise... Review replies!
Shero: Thank you for the compliment. I'm glad you enjoy it, and I'm glad you appreciate Kristen and Michael's relationship.
BalletRat: I told you I had some twists to throw in there. Be warned! There's more to come!
phtmangl1013: Sorry it took a while to update again, but I hope to have more chappies up more quickly soon. And I agree about Roger; however, it makes Kristen and Michael's relationship all the more special, doesn't it?
jtbwriter: Glad to hear small flashies are alright with you all. I know I don't like a whole lot of them in a story, but I think a few every once in a while are o-kay. 'Now what' you ask? 'Wait and see' I reply!
BlackRoseGirl: I WAS contemplating her getting the part of 'Christine', but I just thought that it had been done too many times already, so I made it a bit of a twist. It makes me happy to hear that you like my story. Thanks for reviewing!
AuronLives: Umm... I guess I did sort of die for a while. But I'm alive again. I know what you mean about real life issues holding back your creativity, though. I hope you DO like where this goes; I've got a few surprises left in store...
Brosia: You lost sleep reading... I lost sleep writing. Sorry I made you suffer from a mild case of insomnia, but it thrills me to hear you say it was worth it. Thank you!
Healing Hands: Thank you for being one of the only ones who doesn't want to punjab Roger. He DOES have his good points like... uhh... And then... umm... never mind. I WILL keep on writing. Erik would have it no other way.
Gisele: Okay... I just might do that...
Lioness-Rampant: Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! People like you are what keep me excited about putting up the next chappie!
And to my most recent reviewer...
PhantomSith: Yes, I did choose it because of Michael Crawford -the first Phantom. If you'll notice, 99 of all my characters have names reflecting either the characters in the book/musical, or the people who portrayed them. Kristen/Christine, Michael Cranston/Michael Crawford, Roger Chandler/Raoul de Chagny; just to name a few. As for your curiosity, please be curious! Ask me questions about anything you don't understand, or that sound odd. Be a semi-Beta reader for me. Point out my mistakes and I shall fix them.
That being said and done, I have one more thing to add...
I'm having trouble thinking of a last name for Kristen(If you've noticed, I've never mentioned it.). Anyway, I'd like to ask you all to give me some ideas for a good last name that can be synonymous to 'Daae'. I'll choose the one I like best from your submissions and give you full credit for it in the next chappie! Please help me on this!
