AN: Well, I would write some comments about the reviews…but don't have any to speak of (this is only a temporary affliction I am sure…)
I shall have to occupy my time talking with Erik.
Me: So, Erik, how was your day?
E: Fine, burned down an opera house today.
Me: Really, another one?
E: Well, come on, they had my character completely wrong!
Me: But Phantom of the Opera isn't an Opera, it is a musical.
E: Really? Oops. Who's Adrew Lloyd Weber anyway?
Me: (pats phantom on the head) Oh dear, don't speak…you're so handsome, albeit only when you have that luscious half-mask on your face.
E: (with some confusion) And who the hell is Gerard Butler? Crazed, fanatical females are hunting me down on the streets and asking me for my autograph. They seem to think I should have a Scottish Accent! I've never even BEEN to Scotland!
Me: (patting the phantom's shoulder, cooing softly) It's alright, don't worry…here, read the never chapter to my phanfic.
E: Yes, I think I shall…
Me: And so should all of you…
E: (confused again) All of whom?
Chapter Two: Of Angels and Drugs
So this is death, thought the Vicomte, only half conscious of his surroundings. The fall had left him bruised and delirious. At the moment he was absolutely certain that he was dead, for surely this had to be an angel's face staring back at him.
"Raoul" said the winged beauty, a soft glow about her dark hair and ivory shoulders.
No. Don't frown angel! Raoul pleaded in his mind. You are too beautiful to worry about me. You should be happy. You should be singing and laughing. You should have stayed with Him, that would have made you happy! But instead you chose—
"ARG! AH!" The pain shot through his left arm with lightning speed. His thoughts of angels and beauty quickly faded, replaced by piercing, stabbing, unfathomable pain!
"Hold steady, Raoul. Please! We have to set the bone!"
"At least he is conscious, you can be thankful for that Countess."
The voices seemed to be coming from all around him now, one was soft and gentle, marred only by the distinct melancholy which filled its tone. The other voice was low and hoarse, sounding much deeper and worn by age.
"Please, give him something! He is in so much pain!"
"That is to be expected, Countess!" The grating voice sounded annoyed, slurring the last word.
"Please!" The other implored, cracking slightly.
"Alright, I suppose we could use the Laudanum. Sparingly!" It boomed fiercely.
What Hell is this? Raoul's mind started to wander away from the room, away from the pain of his badly injured body and away from the two warring voices.
So this is how it ends for the Vicomte de Chagny? Not with a bang but with a whimper?
Angels began to flood his mind once again, and he was thankful for the ever-merciful inventor of what the fierce voice had called "Laudanum."
E: Ha! The fop is having delusions! Wimp!
Me: Yeah…poor Raoul.
E: (glares) What?
Me: (clears throat nervously) nothing. I just suggested to my readers that they leave a few reviews by using the link at the bottom of the page.
E: What is a (says word slowly) link?
Me: (sigh) Um…I'll explain that later.
E: And for God's sakes who the HELL is GERARD BUTLER?