Author's note: Here's a little bit more of our Phantom, please do excuse any mistakes, wrote it on impulse at work, which is not a very inspirational environment. Anyways, I'll return with a longer chapter tomorrow.

Of course, to all of my readers/reviewers; Uber thanks for your support! -sings Carlotta like, yikes-

broadwaygal: The punishment dialogue is the fruit of my disturbed imagination, yes I wrote every word of it myself, as the rest of the story except for the obvious POTO concept that is the wondrous creation of Leroux, and the related lines from the musical which belongs to ALW. Regarding the romantic(!) kiss, all I can say is Christine is both the bane and the cure to his existence, so Erik was kind of purging the poison out of his system at the same time getting infected by its bittersweet venom, quite willingly too, so I decided against making it a romantic first time. He can be courteous, but lovely? Hmm, debatable. Thank you so much, for your regular reviews, by the way, they mean a lot.

bellasera: Erik will descend darker, don't you worry. : )

monroe-mary: Yes actually, I have tried writing poetry and it sucked. :) Thanks for the compliment though.

LadyCatBailey: Hehe, that forbidden fruit…isn't it just…tempting? Gerik mental images…brain's about to explode Wow, being compared to Hitchcock is a great honor to say the least. I don't think any body can recreate his atmospheric spookiness and suspense and horror, much less my humble self, but it doesn't stop me from wishing! Though thank you all the same.


"Love is a haunting melody

That I have never mastered

And I fear I never will."

-William S. Burroughs


The heat of the kiss clung to his lips, Christine's cherry scented nectar, the sweetest aroma flowed though his bloodstream like purest absinthe.

A slight tremor of lips emblazoned with the blood of his love-torn heart.

He had succumbed to the devouring flames of fiery passion's inferno, only to be left suspended in a purgatory of searing pain everlasting.

Erik staggered over to his pipe organ, his mind throbbing with the dynamic of his music.

Long, agitated fingers lost in brisk motion above the keys, wave upon wave of melody crashing…

Moments ticked by, streaming into hours, days, streaming into an ocean of infinity.

Time's passage was a depthless void swallowing Erik's loneliness.

On Adonis lips lingered a lover's smouldering kiss.

Luna's silver needle pierced sun's heart defeated and wretched beam, crimson streaked dusk muted to a star-bleeding light dawning, beguiling.

Christine…

Capricious siren secrets voiceless, lust diseased whispers echoed against his mind like springtide's dawn fragrant flowers…

In bloom to jilted roses faded in winter wilted elegy.

Yearning, musing, arose Erik from the pipe-organ like black phoenix from ashes of love's ravaged temple unto withered fields of solitude sovereignty.

Descended wrathful narcissus shattered inside gilded looking glass, a mask's ivory eclipse of a monster's midnight glimpse…

Of bone and ebon fey maiden beauty crowned in twilight poetry, archangelic voice a requiem to pale-cheeked idolatry.

Tore his soul asunder with pain's deafening symphony, and sang he…

Hymn of Love's mourning torture solstice,

That echoed unto eternity's death-denied hallowed dream.

Ink-stained hands held the quill to the parchment, bold, flowing red script filled paper upon paper where Don Juan reigned Triumphant.

The white mask lay forgotten among the sheets of music, its owner stood before a music box in the shape of a monkey in Persian robes, wiping away the thick layer of dust reverently, jaded grey eyes an oceanic prism, observed the trinket, the only treasure and companion through years of a freak's twisted jester show.

Black haired head turning from the music box in slight glance to the white-garbed doll beyond the curtain, a perpetual smile a flawless sobriety across a saint-like face of unblemished porcelain, inanimate, lifeless…

Grey blue tears the bitter sobs haunted the cavern. The unrequited love's song upheaval…

Echoed on and on and on…


Christine freed her hair from the pink silk ribbon, letting it cascade down her back in a waterfall of russet brown curls as she danced to a tune Raoul had been humming today.

She fell into a fond reverie…

Raoul had been courting her for the past three weeks, he had woven her a vibrant dream of chocolates and perfumes, flowers and afternoon walks in the park.

Chivalrous, dashing, romantic and self-assured, Raoul had touched her heart with the tenderness of a snowflake slowly falling into a clear pond.

Christine was in flames, her soul afire.

But her heart was wanting, wishing to taste a kiss forbidden, all the more enticing…

She longed to close her eyes and let his music fill her spirit, free it from its earthly shackles and soar in exploration of dark, phantastic dimensions.

He had not come back, after the night on the rooftop.

Raoul had been vexed, outraged, ready to call the gendarmes to hunt down the murderer.

Christine had assured him with false promises, pleading him not to involve the authorities, to which he grudgingly obliged.

And the Phantom had become a myth once again…

"Angel…"

She sighed in bitter regret.

Try as she might, Christine could not silence the memories of music…where the winding crossroads of desire led to a temple of nocturnal splendour.

A sanctuary of horrors more likely.

A question burned in her mind, begged to be answered.

And echoed into the hollow, dismal darkness that provided no response, no comfort, not at all.