"A long time she held me, as though she could not bear to let me go, and when at last we drew apart, we stared at each other with silent awe, dazed by the intensity of what we had shared. It was finished then, of course...that kiss ended everything. The moment I knew she was mine - - truly mine - - I knew I could not kill that wretched boy." – Erik
Alone
From childhood's hour I have not been
As others were; I have not seen
As others saw; I could not bring
My passions from a common spring.
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow; I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone;
And all I loved, I loved alone.
Then- in my childhood, in the dawn
Of a most stormy life- was drawn
From every depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still:
From the torrent, or the fountain,
From the red cliff of the mountain,
From the sun that round me rolled
In its autumn tint of gold,
From the lightning in the sky
As it passed me flying by,
From the thunder and the storm,
And the cloud that took the form
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view.
Edgar Allen Poe
Chapter Eight: Here I'm Standing in the Night
Magical Lovely by Winter Rose
"Who are you," he asked. His eyes fiercely roaming her face, trying to identify her, place her into a clique. He seemed unable to hide from this woman, this witch!
"What does it matter who I am," she responded, "my name will change nothing, though I wish it could." Her eyes went hazy; a glazed film seemed to slide over them. "You know, a long time ago I did have that power, I could change destines by simply stating my name…"
"Where did you see of me? Who are you!" He asked, his eyes glowing in the darkness.
She did not have the energy to explain to him what she remembered. She would have liked to regain the more recent memories first-such as how she had arrived at the Opera Populair. So, she closed her eyes and began to drift off into unconsciousness.
Suddenly she felt the hands grab her upper arms and give her a slight shake. All the while their owner muttered something she was not inclined to hear. Smiling slightly she let the darkness infolder her in its welcoming embrace.
It was no use; she would not awaken and answer his questions. He considered dumping her into the river, but then decided that she would probably be more than a little disagreeable when she awakened in the frigid lake. So, he resigned himself to reading collection of Edgar Allan Poe's poetry and short stories. He could easily lose himself within the graphic scenes of the untold horrors and sorrows. Yet, out of the many works the poem "Alone" seemed to strike him most deeply. Sometimes, at that depth of the night, when there was neither site nor sound his mind would recall the poetic words and his very soul would cry out in the unwarranted treachery of man kind.
He did not enjoy wallowing in feelings. They always seemed to affect his life horribly. His emotions were better locked under thick binding chains; he believed them to be his most violent vulnerability. Yet, without them he knew that his music would be naught.
Ironically he treasured them as both a cure and weakness.
After reading several passages a "The Raven" he put the book aside and gave into his urge of watching the peaceful form of the woman sleeping in his lair. Therefore, he remembered the only other woman that had lain in the shadows of these walls. He had then believed that Christine truly loved him, as a man, and would never dream of leaving him. How very wrong he had been.
As he watched Serenities chest rise and fall, he himself became lulled by its predictability and was infolded into a deep dreamless sleep, his last thought being that of the slumbering sorceress…
She stretched as she came awake, opening her eyes lazily she scanned the room for a black cloaked figure and found him, however unexpectedly, peacefully sleeping on the embroidered chair. She smiled at site, and started raising herself from silk covered bed.
She supposed that the moon shone brightly outside the walls, but was not positive because the darkness of the vaults did not reveal the time of day or night. Unheeding the bruises on her arms she took one of the candles and walked out of the room. She entered the kitchen and took her time looking about. She neared many of the other candles and lit then. The room was beautifully eliminated in a calm tone.
Looking through the cupboards she found cheeses and fruits that seemed very pleasing. Then she found a large bowl and pop of buying of grapes into it. Taking her candle and a large bowl, she went back to the room. He was still sleeping when she entered. His neck was bent down in a position that would make him eight for quite awhile when he would awaken. She put a candle Ana bowl down quietly, then- tiptoed toward him.
He looked so calm. Standing quietly before him she did not know what to do. Should she way can? Should she try moving him? Or, just leave him alone?
After several minutes of contemplation, she moved nearer to the sleeping figure, and then knelt near his chair.
"I still don't know what to do with you, sweetheart, "she used the endearment unconsciously, and in a friendly tone.
He had awoken when she exited the room yet quietly pretended to sleep. He had been curious as to what she would do. The easily spoken word had shocked him-to say the least. She had so easily said something he had year in tastier from someone else-his mother-if it is possible to call the woman such. Not wanting to be confronted with such memories he opened his eyes, to be struck with gray orbs sparing up at him.
"Did I wake you? "She asked, slightly concerned.
"No," he replied, and since he had no reason to lie, he added"I was already awake," Her eyes widened in surprise and her lips pouted prettily.
"Humph," She muttered "you could have said something, instead of having me stand there trying to be quiet." She stood abruptly.
Vent turning she walked over to the fruit. Although while he sat, simply watching.
"I'm from grapes, I hope you don't mind," She said tentatively, as her face twisted in uncertainty.
"You are quite welcome, to anything here," He told her, motioning with his hand. She brightened, then walked over to him, and sat on the corner of the bed. As she handed him the bowl of grapes, he noticed the dark bruises on her arms and wrist. Suddenly range filled in, He was still angry at himself for hurting her. Abruptly standing, He said in the turned on his heal, and quickly walked out of the room. Shocked, serenity the yelled at him:
"What's wrong!" he did not answer question.
"Rest and I will take you back above the opera house," he walked out of the room, closing the door behind himself, only leaving the small candle as a source of light for her. Sighing, she did as she was told.
To be continued…
Hi,
I hope you guys liked this. It's a little longer, and I'm sorry that I haven't updated in such a long time. Please R. and R. it means a lot.
With lots of Love,
Winter rose-
PS: happy Easter to everyone, I hope everyone had a great vacation! By the way, I hope to a date very soon, if anyone has any story ideas, please let me know! I would be really grateful. And if anyone has the time, please AIM. Me, I would be more than happy to talk.
PPS: This has not been proof read, I'm very sorry for all the mistakes, I know that they're probably many, and if anyone would like to edit it I would be very grateful! E-mail the edited version to me and I will get it posted as soon as I can. Once again thank you to all my patient readers, I love you all!
