I wanted to post this chapter. Because of Region Choir auditions tomorrow, 4/30/05, I won't post a chapter tomorrow. This one contains a little fluff. Because I can't write fluff for crap, Marissa, wrote me some. She didn't go too far, because I told her I would Punjab her if she did. In my opinion, fluff is before something bad happens. And that happens in mine. Muhaha. Go to the bottom, to read an excerpt from my next chapter. Oh yeah, this chapter has an excerpt from Phantom by Susan Kay, it's in the journal entry. Please R&R. P.S. The names Fantine and Eponine are from the musical, Les Miserables.


Chapter 11: A Few More Secrets Unveiled

"Au revoir Erik." Christine said to him after they ate breakfast, "I'll be back at about 5:00. If I don't by then, go out looking for me." He shook his head in agreement. She had decided to take the dressing room route, and Erik accompanied her. After they were at the mirror, and were sure the room's door was closed, they opened the mirror and walked out.

"I forgot to tell you." Erik said, remembering what he had forgot to tell her yesterday. "This can be your dressing room again. Remember, you are employed by the opera house again."

"Why wouldn't I pick this one. It's the only one with the mirror." She said rather eager to go with Meg. "How else would I get home? I need to hurry or I'll be late." With that said, she kissed his cheek lightly and slipped of the room. Erik, wanting to leave Christine the boat, took the scenic route to the lair. Christine ran down the hall to the lobby where the three of them were waiting for her.

"What kept you so long?" Meg asked, really knowing the answer, but wanted to hear it from Christine.

"Someone was holding me behind." Christine said with a giggle. Meg understood. "Let's go." She said trying to hurry them on out the font doors.


"Hm… What book? What book should I read?" Erik asked himself. He turned and looked around the library. There, on a small table, was his old journal. Overwhelmed with curiosity, he picked it up and sat down in his armchair. He wanted to look unto the pages, and see what forgotten secrets lie in ink on the parchment. Ayesha jumped on his lap and he opened the journal. Tons of memories flooded back as he opened to one page.

February 4, 1852

This is the day, the 3 years ago, that my favorite dog, Sasha, was killed. Even though Father Mansart said that animals had no souls, I believed they did. I don't remember everything that happened that day, but I will write as much as I can.

That day, I was drawing some blueprints for a huge building I had been working on for awhile. My mother, Madeleine, was watching over my shoulder, which I found rather annoying still today. Every so often, I would screw up and through the design into the fire. I grew rather irritable.

Sasha wanted attention, but I was too frustrated to pet her on her head. I picked her up and put her outside. I continued to work the rest of the day. When I put my head down and closed my eyes, I remembered something.

"Where's Sasha?" I demanded my mother.

"You put her outside when she was bothering you. Remember?" My mother asked me. I quickly sprang up and ran outside to hear and see a mob and poor Sasha lying on the ground in a pool of blood. I ran to her side, sank down and cried.

"I'll kill you! I'll kill you all!" I yelled to the mob. That threat scared them off pretty easily. I picked up her slowly stiffening body and carried her inside. I knew that I had been cut, but I didn't care. With protest, my mother led me outside to bury Sasha. I didn't let her help me dig her grave in the rock hard ground. There, when I placed her body in the ground, I sang her a requiem, hoping her soul would go to heaven. The words of Dies Irae rang from my voice.

Dies irae dies illa

Solvet saeclum in favilla:

Teste David cum Sybilla.

Quantus tremor est futurus

Quando judex est venturus

Cuncta stricte discussurus!

Dies irae dies illa

Solvet saeclum in favilla:

Teste David cum Sybilla

Quantus tremor est futurus

Quatdo judex est venturus

Cuncta stricte discussurus!

Quantus tremor est futurus

Dies irae, dies illa

Quantus tremor est futurus

Dies irae, dies illa

Quantus tremor est futurus

Quantus tremor est futurus

Quando judex est venturus

Cuncta stricte discussurus

Cuncta stricte Cuncta stricte

Stricte discussurus

Cuncta stricte Cuncta stricte

Stricte discussurus!

I had made up my mind. I knew what I must do. I would have to run away and never return. I didn't know where I would go, but I didn't care.

Erik wiped a tear from his eye. Reading the journal entry was one of the hardest things he had ever done. He still hated the mob. No matter how much his mother hated him, he never could never hate her. Maybe dislike her, but never hate her. Just then, he remembered something. He got out a small mirror, and a glass blade.

Skillfully, he trimmed the small mirror into about twenty pieces. In a certain pattern, he laid out the pieces on the floor. He got up, grabbed a brightly-lit candle and placed it, so that its light reflected onto the wall in a blinding spectacle. It was in the same pattern as he had made before he ran away. Erik sat there; looking at its beauty until Christine came back.


"Look at that dress!" Lauren exclaimed, running to a window of one of the shops. "Oh my! Look at the price." Disappointed, she quickly left the window, and went back to the group. The next shop they went into was one that sold formal apparel.

"Look at these gloves!" Christine called to the three other friends of hers. She had found a pair of black leather gloves in Erik's size. "Erik could use a pair of gloves. His are wearing out." Meg gasped, which alerted Christine of her oral mistake.

"Who's this Erik you talk of?" Marissa asked.

"Um… he's… um…" Christine mumbled wondering if she could trust Lauren and Marissa. She finally decided that she could, and she glanced over her shoulder making sure that Erik hadn't followed them. "Ok, you must promise that you will not tell anyone. I'm only going to tell you this because I know I can trust you both." She paused, then continued telling them. "He's my husband."

"So? What's the big secret? Why can't we tell?" Lauren asked not really seeing the point.

"Because, he's," She said, almost at a whisper, hoping that no one else would hear, "He's, The Phantom of the Opera." She stressed the word, 'The'. A look on both of their faces showed their shock.

"Ok, let me get this straight." Marissa said incredulous. "You, Christine Daaé, is married to the infamous Phantom of the Opera." She took a short pause and continued with excitement, "That is so interesting. We promise we won't tell. Anyway, I have a feeling that if we do tell, we will meet an imminent doom."

"Yep, that's most likely. He threatened me with his Punjab Lasso." Meg confirmed, trying to scare them a little.

"Let me just buy these gloves." Christine said, going to the counter and purchasing them. As soon as they were outside, Marissa spoke up,

"Wait. In the dressing room yesterday, you said, 'The rehearsal will start soon. And you know how grouchy Er… Monsieur Beaumount gets when we're late.' "

"So?" Lauren asked.

"So, Monsieur Beaumount must be Erik. But how…" She said in wonder, "How could he be him if Erik wears a mask? Monsieur Beaumount doesn't."

"Simple. I put stage cosmetics on him," Christine spoke up, proud of her handiwork, "You'll be surprised how good that make-up is."

"Then that means that he wrote the opera, and him at the auditions." Lauren said, piecing everything together. They continued to walk on. "I would never guessed. For being 'The Phantom', he has great manners and is very nice."

"Just don't get him in a bad mood." Christine warned them, "He can get into blind rages. If you ever need to talk to me, and I'm not up, you can always leave a note with Madame Giry, who will give it to me, or leave one on by the mirror in my dressing room, on the dresser. Erik said I would have my old dressing room back, especially that room because the mirror and the passageway. And, never talk about Erik anywhere inside the opera house. He has trap doors everywhere, and can hide easily. So beware." They continued shopping. At 4:30 they headed back to the opera house.

They all went their own way to their rooms. When Christine reached the lake, she noticed the boat was still on her side. He must have taken another passageway. When she reached the other shore, she went straight to the library, for she knew that he would be there. When she opened the door, blinding light flooded her eyes.

"Erik? What's all of this?" She asked him amazed. He moved the candle away and she saw that it was just tiny pieces of mirror reflecting light.

"I made it when I was a child." Erik said, rather proudly. For the next hour, he showed her how it worked and how to make one. She caught on quite quickly. After they were done, Erik asked her, "What's in the bag?" She had forgotten all about the gloves.

"A surprise." She said rather playfully. "Close your eyes and I'll put it in your hands." He obeyed her, stuck out his hands, and closed his eyes. She unwrapped the gloves and placed them in his open grasp. He opened his eyes and gasped.

"Christine, thank you so much. I needed another pair." He said, putting them on, and kissed her deeply.

"Wow. Well, thank you." Christine said rather amused with the kiss. A few hours passed and she decided to go to bed. She lay down on the bed, with a few candles lighted.

The candle flickered dancing pictures of light onto the wall. Erik appeared from the shadows and lay down on the bed next to her. He ran his fingers through her hair and rubbed his hand down her back. Christine placed her hand on top of his. He gently pulled her closer to him to where their lips were touching. His lips were firmly pressed against her's while his arm went around her waist. The taste of Erik's lips swallowed Christine and she was free of all thoughts. The feeling of his lips caressed and nurtured her, sending Christine into swirls of emotions. Erik then rolled her next to his side, taking in his warmth. She couldn't resist the seduction. They were engulfed into the music of the night.


Muhaha. Here is my promised excerpt.

Chapter 12: Disaster Strikes

"Erik! Erik!" Meg yelled pounding on the mirror. Luckily, he had heard her, and came running to the mirror and opened it.

"What's wrong?" Erik asked confused.

"Christine! She's… She's been shot!" Meg exclaimed grabbing Erik's hand and pulled him to the door.

(At a later point.)

When Meg came in, he started to sing to Christine, hoping his voice would help her recover:

Sound the bugle now,

Play it just for me.

As the seasons change,

Remember how, I used to be.

Please R&R. Also, Come to the Dark Side… I have Cookies!