Adelson's Caricatures

In shock, Erik had not noticed the vague blur, that was Christine, dart past him. His eyes were fixed on the gruesome sight before him, which was himself. Denial first assaulted him, and so Erik pressed his hands to his chest, and to his relief, felt solid. He considered that perhaps he was only dreaming; that would explain the situation rather well. With a glare, he strode forward, and trod round the casket, sneering at the corpse. How could he possibly be dead? Erik did not remember passing in the least. He froze then and reached hesitantly to touch the casket. The mahogany contacted no nerve, and at the peculiarity, Erik swiftly withdrew. "A dream, a dream!" Erik repeated, shaking his head disbelieving. With an abrupt, scornful laugh, he waved the corpse off, and strode forward, only his denial was interrupted by the sound of Christine's voice. For a moment, he could not decipher her position, though as his wavering gaze steadied, so it seemed her being had. For some time, Erik listened to her delicate voice in blank astonishment. "No...Christine." He spoke quietly, and moved cautiously toward her. "Stop." Erik demanded gently, repeating his instruction several times, before anger struck him. "Why do you sing this elegy? Erik is not dead!" He shouted furiously, though his words seemed to go unheeded, as Christine only began to depart. "Christine!" Erik cried, stalking after her, only when he had passed from the doorway, he was alone again. He snarled, and frantically sought for Christine, at first, within the confines of his home, and then along the edge of the lake, in a sort of frenzy that came with his bewilderment. When Erik had found no sign of Christine, who had seemed to vanish before him, Erik fled back inside, and leaned against the closed door, gazing fixedly ahead. The idea that perhaps, it all was a dream, returned to him, and with another burst of panic, Erik returned to the room, throwing open the door, and snarling in incredulity to find it as it had been before. He pointed sharply to the casket, in which laid the corpse which held his identity and glowered. "Dead ringer!" Erik cried, and slammed the door shut. Turning, the hysterical man fled, and passed time by madly boarding the door. It seemed that when the door was completely boarded over, in with the corpse laid his trepidation. Stepping back, the tools that had been used strangely missing, Erik stared suspiciously at the door, as if afraid it would only reopen. When it had not, he quickly scuttled from the hallway, and took refuse in the sitting room. As Erik began to pace, a sardonic chuckle passed from his lips, at the idea of death, which was so enticing and yet somehow frightening him now. Death, he believed, would be a welcomed relief, to claim him when it desired, and alleviate his ache. Though, how could he possibly be dead, if he still felt no liberation whatsoever? Erik considered, for a moment, that it could possibly be true, for it would explain the strange happenings just as well as him being in a dream would have. For reasons stated above, replaying in his mind, small sobs were stifled in his throat. Refusing to believe that death had been so cruel as to have him live about the world of the living, as some sort of entity, Erik quickly exited his home, to ascend above in search of Christine. He moved, in a way that a stunned individual would, gait hurried, but manner unemotional and listless. It would seem, to anyone who could vision him, that Erik was walking on a set path, which lead him to Christine. And he followed this path with no thought, as if he knew his mind would guide his way successfully; it has done so. Erik passed through the mirror without a sound, without the mechanics being triggered, and fell before Christine's sleeping figure in the darkness of the room, gazing at her expectantly, as if shell-shocked.

At first, Christine had only been aware of a great empty silence in her old room. Then slowly, a chill wind picked up, and a presence; his presence, near her. Stifling the urge to run in fear, Christine sat up, her body still lying solidly on the lounge.
"How long have you known you were dead, and did not tell me?" Christine murmured, her voice pleading as if she did not truly want him dead. As if leaving Paris with him alive would have been less painful. It was only at this thought that she dared to look at the man before her.
"That is twice now, that you have lied to me. The first you were an Angel, the second, that you were a man. What are you now? What am I, that I can see you?" Trembling, she gently placed her hand on the man's shoulder to see if it would pass through, but it felt entirely solid, and this was more shocking then what the former would have been. Then, the words were out of her mouth before she could regret thinking them.
"I'm leaving Paris in two days time with Raoul." The frightened girl informed Erik.

As if stricken, Erik leapt to his feet, at first, because of the news of Christine's departure, secondly, because the girl had not aided in alleviating his disorientation. The shake up had words blocked in his throat, and for a moment Erik could not speak. After a short period of silence, they seemed to pass from his lips on their own accord. "No, no! Christine! I am not dead!" He explained in astonishment, with a small laugh, as if the idea was merely ridiculous. "How can I be, if you can touch me? This is absurd! You sang for me, a dirge! But look, you were mistaken I am alive!" His words quieted, and Erik paused, eyes widening. "But then...that carcass, you had seen. And so it was no dream...but that could not have been me!" Erik cried, prior to falling before Christine again, and clutching the fabric of her gown. "I have not lied to you again!" He assured before releasing her dress, and holding out his hands beseechingly toward Christine. "Or if I had- if I had then I had not been aware! You must believe me, Christine!" Despite the inner turmoil assaulting him, Erik apologized profusely for a moment, before straightening up in his kneeling position, and casting a glance around the room. "I don't really understand. I believe I am seeing things, Christine. I think I'm rewriting everything. And I heard this clock, you see?" Erik's voice had fallen in an unsettled sort of placidity, and completely unaware of how muddled his speech had become, he leaned forward, resting his head against the young woman's knees, in a desperate search for comfort. "I feel ill...why are you leaving Paris?"

Christine allowed the man his peace, though she did not wish to reveal to him her reasons.
"Raoul will be going on an expedition to the arctic, and he wants me to join him. It's not very well looked upon for a man's wife to accompany him on his journeys, but Raoul has connections that will take care of that..." Pausing, Christine flung her mind back to try to comprehend what Erik had said.
"There was a clock, I had not heard it before, when I slept, but when I saw your...you, there was one. And if you mean that manuscript by your organ, it is finished, so I do not understand you rewriting it..." The poor man's confusion unsettled her, and she did what seemed most natural at the time, by leaning forward and embracing him, as if he had been an old friend. Then, pulling him to sit beside her, she began to explain what she knew of, if nothing else.
"When I first came to the Opera Garnier, I would sleep at night, but dream of this place. Only, there would be no people, and I could change anything at will. My hair colour was one of the many things...then you came, and things stopped obeying me. I had no control over objects, only myself. I would wake up, and if I stayed asleep too long, the world in which I belonged, would continue without me..." Feeling suddenly very lonely, Christine clenched her fists, then continued.
"When you took me to your house by the lake, for that week, my body was left in sleep, while my mind and spirit were here. That is why I was ill, because I spent so long asleep, that I did not truly get what I needed in terms of food and water, beyond what the doctor would- ah perhaps we shall skip that. Raoul took me in when the Opera house would have thrown me to an asylum, and he financed my illness, as it were." Sighing, Christine opened her hands from their tight fists, and spread them helplessly.
"I can not explain why I came to this world in my dreams, and I do not know how you exist in them. I'm sorry for that, and I'm truly sorry that I will not be here to help you solve this riddle..." Gesturing back to what looked like a translucent form of Christine, she smiled sadly. 'If he had been an Angel, perhaps...perhaps...'

Gazing down into his lap, Erik listened intently to Christine's explanation, mind reeling to place the situation, which still made so little sense to him. The whole idea sounded completely metaphysical, only it seemed to piece together frighteningly well; Erik almost wished he had merely been hallucinating. Christine's brief embrace offered none of the comfort it would, with his mind swimming in his misgivings. Sceptical and the concept so abstract, he immediately placed his mind elsewhere, considering that perhaps if he ignored the disconcerting aspect, it would simply deteriorate. Because of this, Erik started promptly, abruptly feeling nauseous with fear that washed over his distress, as he recalled Christine's first words. Slowly, Erik rose from beside Christine, peering at her warily, as he took a small step away. "Wife?" He inquired with forced coolness, as if Christine might had said the word unintentionally. Though, one knows women do not fail to differentiate such titles. "His wife? You're marrying him?" The composure in Erik's voice faltered completely, and he snarled his words viciously instead. A cruel laugh emitted from his throat, which was tinted with hysteria, and an anger both fuelled by anguish and his complete loss of nerve. "How thankless you are! But that is fine, Christine. I do not need recognition." Reached forward, Erik took Christine's arm firmly and wretched her forward. "If I am dead, then I may do what I please, in my world." He gestured about the room listlessly, standing before Christine and her real world self. "I then can...have anything I want." Erik murmured, and behind him stood instead, a stone wall, which narrowed the room, and made the only exit possible, the cheval mirror. "And what I want, Christine, more then anything else, is you." Stated so simply, with a wistful air, that was both mad and grim, Erik pulled her, leading her through the mirror forcefully. "You will marry no one but Erik!"

Christine struggled against the pitiless grip that encircled her wrist. Shouts of unrecognisable curses resounded throughout the dark hallway behind the trick mirror. More then once, Christine thought she could free herself, and return to her body, before she was cruelly wrenched back.
"No!" She shrieked. "I do not want to marry you! Let me go!" Her voice was near hysterical as she did all she could to fight her abductor.
"I will never marry a monster. Let me go!" The old fear that she had forced away returned the deeper into the Opera Garnier they descended.
"If you take me, I will die, and then I will never be with you! You can rot in your coffin with your damned music all you want, but I will not stay! Just try to keep me alive. As long as no one knows about my body, and as long as I do not eat food myself, my body will die!" Panic-stricken laughter consumed her voice, as her mind fully processed the fact that she was being abducted by a ghost, to be his wife, while she slept. Then, the negative repercussions set in.
"Mon Dieu, help me, someone please!" She cried. Then, her mind could not process anything anymore, and her spirit self fell into blackness. Her last thought was a simple prayer to any angel that might hear.

A small gasp passed from Erik's lips, as he felt Christine suddenly wilt. Turning briskly, he hastily collected her in his arms to keep her from falling to the floor. A sob caught in his throat, before Erik's manner returned to one of anger, and snarling faintly, he situated Christine's body in his arms. Glowering aimlessly, he strode forward through the darkness of the passageway, which slowly seemed to dissolve and manipulate into the walls of his own ethereal residence. Moving in an automatic manner, Erik turned sharply to deliver Christine to her room, laying her delicately on the bed. Withdrawing leisurely from Christine, Erik heaved a heavy, miserable sigh. Straightening up, Erik pressed a hand to the forehead of his mask, as if this would alleviate his headache. Closing his eyes for a moment, Erik soon started promptly, and rushed back to Christine's bedside. He took up her hand gently, and scoffing subtly, removed the expensive ring from her finger. Carefully lying down Christine' s arm, Erik glared at the ring in his hand, before glancing down at Christine despondently. Tearing his gaze from the young woman, Erik strode from her room, leaving the door ajar. He fiddled with the ring for a second, before snarling and throwing it aside. It chinked long the ground and laid somewhere entirely unimportant. If the symbolic ring was real or not, Erik did not care. If he were indeed dead, in the afterlife in which he controlled, Christine would display only a ring he had given her. Instead of walking to his usual spot at the organ, Erik sat on the settee in the parlour, and removed his mask hurriedly, placing it aside carelessly as he brought his hands to his malformed face, slumping forward with a groan. Half of his mind was concentration on Christine, while the other was focused on figuring his quandary. As the cast a glance around the room, the world seemed to him as tangible, as it had before he had 'died'. "I cannot be dead." Erik murmured into his hands, with a wretched sigh, at the prospect that death would no longer serve as an escape. "Merciless judiciary, what cruel condemnation is this?" Erik groaned whilst straightening up and passing a hand over his forehead, trying to ease his headache, which seemed all too real.

The downside to faint while being in a non-physical form is that one is already asleep, and hence, cannot drift away from their mind. As Christine awoke with a rush of all-too-real horror, she noted this unfortunate characteristic. Pressing a hand to her forehead and leveraging herself to be sitting straight up, Christine felt that if she had eaten recently, she might have been sick. Fortunately, she could only manage the feeling of complete and utter disgust. It was when she brought her hand away; that she noticed her beautiful golden band was gone. With a cry, she scrambled, and searched her room desperately for the one thing that kept her tied to the dream of freedom.
"What did you do with it? Erik!" Christine screeched from the room. The rage, and instant knowledge that he had taken it, coursed through her veins, drowning her fears in the roar. Careening out of the room, she stared at Erik, full of hate. "Where did you put my ring Erik, I will not ask you again!"

In a placid manner, Erik glanced over at Christine, before the corner of his lips twitched in a smirk. "You are only wasting your time. I will not tell you; what need do you have of it?" He inquired, raising from the settee, with no mind of his being unmasked. "It is merely a figment of the true piece, in any case, is it not?" Erik peered at her calmly for a moment, before suddenly moving forward, brushing past Christine swiftly. Unseen to Christine, he stepped on the ring, and twisted around to face her. "You won't be leaving, my dear." Erik began pleasantly, holding out his hands listlessly and shaking his head. "But! You are quite welcome to search! Anywhere you would like, search, my darling Christine, but you will never find it."

Christine clenched her fists tightly in her skirt. "Perhaps I should look where your corpse lies? That rooms seems to be full of revelations..." With her lips pressed tightly, she glared at the man in front of her.
"I will never be the wife of a corpse, and I will never let you control me." She hissed, before stalking off to the room that held Erik's deathbed. Boards and nails did not hamper it, as Erik had tried, and instead, it swung open easily. Now that she looked, she could see the ruminants of the masked man, and the longer she looked; the more she hated herself for returning. For not running, and instead of doing as her common sense insisted, told Erik of her marriage plans. 'What if I told him that I was already married...or that the marriage was already consummated? Would he throw me away then?' The thought brought with it, the horrid realization of what would happen if he did. 'I might never return to my body...'

The equanimity that Erik had collected wavered subtly at Christine's parting words, which seemed more cutting, then literal. Taking this time to step off and take up the ring, Erik pocketed the item with a faint sigh. Erik considered not following Christine, feeling self-conscious for the moment, and weary, as if he could not face Christine's rage again. Lifelessly, Erik strode forward to track Christine, though upon coming to the door of the room, which she had entered, Erik started. The door, which he had boarded, was no longer so. At this sight, a small huff of laughter passed from his lips, though he choice to ignore the phenomenon brushing a hand over the stile and step inside. Erik's gaze at first, fell mechanically on Christine before his head inclined subtly, to look at the corpse. Suddenly, a snarl emitted from his throat, and Erik trod forward to the casket, closing it with a loud bang. Turning sharply to face Christine, Erik glowered ominously at the young woman. "I am not dead!" He cried furiously, before pointing back to the door, tone abruptly calming. "Get out of this room, Christine."

Christine stood her ground; her once malleable will, now tempered and hardened. 'I will not be sent from a room like a naughty child!' She thought with a growing resentment. "No." Christine said simply, though those words threw the rest of her in turmoil.
"You are dead, and I am living, and I hate you more than anything." Her heart pounded furiously, as the girl stood her ground, glaring down the unmasked man. He had, as an Angel, enchanted her, and as a man, evoked emotion in her, but as the monster she saw now, he could only made her feel as if she had been taken for a fool, and he had been the driver. 'Which he had.' She growled. The blood fled from her pale face as she, in direct defiance, wrenched open the lid to the coffin once more.
"Ah- look, a handsome gentleman lies here! Perhaps monsieur, you know each other!" Laughing with a tinge of insanity, Christine's finger judiciously pointed at Erik.
"Last time I visited this man, he let me leave. Maybe, monsieur, a lesson should be learned?" Christine's laughter died away, and the one comfort she had left to name was Raoul. The memory of his kiss, and the life she could have led.

The ire that flared in Erik's eyes, was the only clear display of his suppressed rage. He stifled the strong urge to lash out at Christine, disliking the sentiment, which caused this harsh desire. "You may hate me, as you will. But there is no lesson to be learned, beside the difficulty you have of holding your tongue, Mademoiselle. Dead or not, I retain your fate in my hands; to do with it as I see fit." Erik's eyes narrowed threateningly, and he turned his back on Christine and the casket, to cross the threshold of the room. "I wonder, Christine, after your body wastes away, and you as well, are dead; would I still be able to hold you here? It seems quite probable." Stepping out of the room, Erik turned to face Christine, and though his manner was completely nonchalant, dejection was drawn on his misshapen countenance. "Since you seem so content in the presence of the lifeless corpse, rather than the one that so loves you; perhaps you would like to remain?" Erik inquired flatly; reaching to hold the doorknob lightly as he slowly began to shut the door.

Christine's eyes widened in what would probably have been the longest second of her life. Thoughts raced by in lighting quick succession. 'He would not leave me here', and 'Alone with a dead man either way!' dominated such reflections. For a moment she was mute, then the words were unglued from her mouth, and she could hear herself pleading. "No Erik, please!" Her small form held her arm out, in a silent gesture of appeal. In the end, the fear of being trapped in a room with a literally dead corpse, was more disgusting then her other option. In the end, she did not wish to be in a room of life and death. Thinking about everything that she was missing...'No! I have to get back. Some how, I must! Before…well, before two days pass...before the day itself!' Biting her lip grimly, Christine dropped her hands and eyes, and in a cowed gesture, allowed her shoulder to slump.
"I…I'll be good…" Hating that she felt like a mere child, barely into teen-hood, instead of the woman she was, Christine forced down the bitterness that ensured forth. She would play his game, but with her own rules.