"No, it must be finished first," he screamed aloud to no one in particular, his voice echoing through the vast dark underground. "Quite finished!"
He smashed his spidery fingers into the keys of the pipe organ, even as he worked the pedals beneath him. The notes that issued forth reverberated through the little house, and out into the cavernous chamber in which stood a deep, glassy lake. The music was approaching completion, but there was still something that he couldn't quite grasp that kept it from flowing as it should.
A few more notes. No, no, no. It still wasn't right. It wasn't the composition he was striving for. Don Juan Triumphant was so close to being complete. But what was missing? Erik cracked his knuckles, enjoying for just a brief instant the relief that the action provided. He would rest a while, perhaps then the few remaining bits of his masterwork would come together. From beside his neglected mask, he lifted the porcelain bowl of soup he had prepared earlier to his lips. And spat it back out.
"Cold..."
How did the soup get so cold so fast? He'd only been working for a few minutes. Hadn't he? He reached into his waistcoat and pulled out the gold pocket watch he carried. 12 o'clock... It wasn't possible. Somehow he'd lost eight hours. He was so absorbed in his work that he hadn't realized where the time went. And the ache in his stomach reaffirmed that fact. There was no time to think of food now. Christine was due to arrive again very soon.
"Ah...Christine..."
A cold chill ran through Erik. Quickly he reached for his handkerchief and wiped away the sweat which had beaded on the chalk-white flesh of his forehead. He lifted the mask from the small table and slid it over his hideous death's head. Now, now he was presentable to his beloved. And just in time, for at that moment, the siren announced the arrival of a guest at the edge of the lake. The Phantom of the Opera reached beneath the organ and pulled a lever, and the siren fell silent, lest Christine be taken in by her charms and fall beneath the water and drown.
In that instant, Erik spun around and flew to the sheet music atop his great organ. Like a man posessed, he scribbled and scratched in a series of notes until, finally, his trembling hand dropped the pen. He flipped through the pages once, twice, three times.
It was finished.
Don Juan Triumphant was finished!
"Erik? Oh Erik, where are you? I've come back to you as I promised that I would. Why do you leave me here in the dark."
Erik smiled. "Remain there, my love... I come to fetch you."