It startled her, fresh raw curses escaped her parted lips. She hung in the open dangling, trying to make her way down on the rope. But by groan of protest from the ropes above gave her a nerve racking feeling. She felt a tingling sensation form in her hands, they became sweat soaked, making her slid down. There her smooth hands where being cut into by the ropes strong fibers, she could even feel warm blood flowing from some new cuts. Her breath tensed as she, looked downwards. She was afraid of falling, she could picture her body fused with the snow covered ground. Her hands reached up to the sky if trying to grasp someone's hands, her husband pouting then wiping a blood covered sword upon her bosom. One mistake and her limp body would be forgotten under the vast blankets of snow to be found in the welcoming days of spring.
She shivered, blinked from the cold tears that where streaming from her eyes. She felt the solid crunch of snow below her foot. Thank goodness that she was wearing boots. A muffled cry of dismay sprang across the estate, as it was Christine's cue to leave at once.
There the mere was, a fond one of chestnut color it's ears prickled back and fourth in an ernest way as if a welcoming to Christine. The woman patted the horse on a large white splash upon it's neck, a small whinny escaped the horse as the beginnings of snow drifted from the skies above. Christine panicked, she was not skilled getting up on a horse's back. A proper Lady was always helped up by a man, she blushed to think what would people think of her if she was caught. But that came in the least of her worries, she didn't want any blood to be shed that day. Promises where always broken.
She heard a soft banging coming from the estate, as people shouted cries of "Madame!" she swore louder, then with rage she felt deeply impudent towards herself. Ceasing her absurd anger she hauled herself halfway up the horses hind-quarters and kicked the air to propel her upwards. She was out of breath, her stomach rolled a bit from the lack of air, she scoffed but then settled herself on the horses back and kicked the horse deep into the thighs sending the horse bellowing into a full on cry.
It was then she heard a faint crack, the door was broken. Now she had to run, run to beat her husband to find her true angel. The man who she loved had hounds at his heels, it was time for her to put the mutts asleep. She never felt so free, the wind whistled through her ears, it was a melody she wanted to hear came to her. A succulent sense of freedom rained upon her, no longer did she have to wait inside moving her fan like all proper wives do. No longer she had to wait for her husband to come back from business trips, while she sat tending to needlework and other boring necessities.
The horses hoofs thundered down the path, echoing off the cobble stones, trees towered over her sometimes sending off loads of fresh snow onto her face. Her hair was even springing free of their binds to intertwine with the wind, this alas was a sense of freedom no woman could forget.
It was quiet, the gravestones sat waiting like they always did. The extensive amounts of grave stones made her shudder, she saw newly ones open agape for the snow to greet them. Tersely she spoke out loud calling the name of her phantom, the only answer was a howl of a wolf. There where the hounds, where was it's leader? she drew out her dagger to hold onto for some reassurance, she could also feel the light touch of her pistol on her skin.
She was nervous, the graveyard was always this deserted but the silence was painful on her. It was then she closed her eyes and breathed in to let out a string of songs, but she didn't know her viewer was so close.
In sleep he sang to me
In dreams he came
That voice which calls to me
And speaks my name
And do I dream again?
For now I find
The phantom of the opera is there,
Inside my mind
She stopped as a chilling eruption overcame her body as someone sung back to her.
Sing once again with me
Our strange duet
My power over you
Grows stronger yet
And though you turn from me
to glance behind
The phantom of the opera is there
Inside your mind
That was all she heard, the next thing she knew she was mouth and mouth, hand and hand with the phantoms.