Returning below, I removed my cloak and fell wearily into my chair by the
fire. Ayesha jumped up on my lap and I stroked her soft fur absently. She
purred while gently digging her claws into me, looking up at me as if to
say, "You've been distant, my Master." I sighed loudly as I gave her my
full attention and apologized with lavish strokes for my absentmindedness.
Forgiving, she curled next to me, falling asleep with a speed I envied.
Three weeks now and I have fallen into a predicable routine. Each evening, I wait for Christine to enter her dressing room, hiding myself like a thief behind her mirror. I was now grateful I had the foresight to install that mirror I invented on a whim, which allowed me to view the room as through a window. Some perverse fancy had come over me to conceal secret spaces all over the property during construction of the Opera House that were known only to myself. Thus, while her dresser applies her makeup and brushes her luxuriant hair, I stand enraptured and unmoving behind my shield. Worshipping her silently and stealthily, all the while trying to forget that I had promised myself this time was the last time. My budding audacity was regulated to the recesses of my mind; the need to see her was as involuntary as my heart beat.
Love clawed at me incessantly as I observed her. Innocent and enchantress was she, and the combination was terminally sensual. Both reverence and hunger fought brutally for dominion within my tormented body. Regardless of how I reproached myself with the facts that these yearnings were positively lewd at my age - my mind steadfastly ignored me.
I had learned some of her melancholy past from eavesdropping on the other dancers. It appeared that Christine was very much alone in the world - a position no one could appreciate more than I. My days were occupied with thinking on how I might bridge our lonely worlds.....only to be blasted in the face of reason. Remembering bitterly how I wished that I could make love to a woman with my voice - only my voice - I knew a furious frustration at my powerlessness.
Sentenced to the fringes of life, this man could only love from afar. I wished my cruel flesh would accept that fact and cease its anguish.
Standing, I ran my fingers carelessly through my hair. I would find a way, somehow, to make contact with her. Defeat and failure had never before been an option and surely would not be now.....not when I desired association with her more than anything in my entire life. Exhaling sharply, I recalled her untrained, yet perfect, voice raised in song for the Opera Ghost. What faultless register! Picturing what could be if I were allowed the honor to mold, to shape that ideal instrument. She had more to offer than she realized and could accomplish far more than all of the chorus girls. Just the image of our two voices entwined in song was enough to arouse me in a fiery grip. Christine's voice and my own, meshed in music as one......
Jolting myself willfully from my reverie, I knew that I must make devise a way to arrange communication with Christine. I charged wildly forward, not stopping to evaluate the consequences of such an action, plagued by my love for her. An impasse had been reached. Something must be done or I would surely lose my tenuous hold on sanity.
@-------^--------------
Poor Jules believed me mad. He looked at my list of requests then stared up at me in disbelief. "Monsieur?....."
"I am expecting company in the near future." I retorted curtly with a stare from under my hat that brooked no argument.
"Oui, monsieur, it will be as you wish. However, I believe you have given me far too much money for such purchases. I do not think it will cost nearly what you..." I quickly interrupted him, "You know my preferences, Jules, I want only the finest quality. Whatever is left over, you may keep for your family." I waved away his protests.
"Monsieur Erik, that is most generous of you. I cannot express my gratefulness." he stammered.
Each time I sent him out for me on various errands, he delivered the same speech. Despite my past sins, I held a singular sympathy for Jules. He was a very weak man and terribly frightened of me. It was the least that I could do to provide his family with more food for their table.
"Very well. We shall meet here in two weeks time." I stated flatly.
"Oui, monsieur, I will have made much progress by then." Jules replied.
Turning to end our conversation, I recognized he had more to say. I slowed, looking over my shoulder.
"Pardon my boldness, Monsieur Erik, but I....I am glad for you." Jules faltered with a bow of his head.
I nodded briefly and continued down to the lake, confused by the tears that were threatening.
@-------^--------------
My two new managers were quite a bit more difficult to control than dear Poligny. Richard and Moncharmin became somewhat irritated that the resident ghost wished to be paid for his services, and paid handsomely. It took several "mysterious" incidents in their offices for my salary to be left in box five by the faithful Madame Giry. I was especially anxious to receive my salary promptly now that I had preparations to be made for Christine. God knows why I was planning for her to stay with me as she did not even know of my existence! In any case, arrangements were underway as I waited impatiently for the right opportunity.
The new managers fawned disgustingly over La Carlotta, our current diva. If she only knew the comments made behind her back by those two, her tantrum would be a spectacle. Several different shows were being considered but I believed that 'Hannibal' would be the next production. I attended rehearsals each day to stay informed of progress and also to see Christine. She worked unceasingly and moved with an inherent grace, but I could see that she would never be a great dancer. She seemed preoccupied somehow and I would always wonder what was on her mind. Her heart was just not in the stringent routines that Madame Giry surveyed over with an uncompromising observation.
"Soon, my Christine, soon.", I promised.
[Author's Note: It was my intention to re-tell Erik's story from his pov. However, he is insisting that I change the plot. My muse commands.....]
Three weeks now and I have fallen into a predicable routine. Each evening, I wait for Christine to enter her dressing room, hiding myself like a thief behind her mirror. I was now grateful I had the foresight to install that mirror I invented on a whim, which allowed me to view the room as through a window. Some perverse fancy had come over me to conceal secret spaces all over the property during construction of the Opera House that were known only to myself. Thus, while her dresser applies her makeup and brushes her luxuriant hair, I stand enraptured and unmoving behind my shield. Worshipping her silently and stealthily, all the while trying to forget that I had promised myself this time was the last time. My budding audacity was regulated to the recesses of my mind; the need to see her was as involuntary as my heart beat.
Love clawed at me incessantly as I observed her. Innocent and enchantress was she, and the combination was terminally sensual. Both reverence and hunger fought brutally for dominion within my tormented body. Regardless of how I reproached myself with the facts that these yearnings were positively lewd at my age - my mind steadfastly ignored me.
I had learned some of her melancholy past from eavesdropping on the other dancers. It appeared that Christine was very much alone in the world - a position no one could appreciate more than I. My days were occupied with thinking on how I might bridge our lonely worlds.....only to be blasted in the face of reason. Remembering bitterly how I wished that I could make love to a woman with my voice - only my voice - I knew a furious frustration at my powerlessness.
Sentenced to the fringes of life, this man could only love from afar. I wished my cruel flesh would accept that fact and cease its anguish.
Standing, I ran my fingers carelessly through my hair. I would find a way, somehow, to make contact with her. Defeat and failure had never before been an option and surely would not be now.....not when I desired association with her more than anything in my entire life. Exhaling sharply, I recalled her untrained, yet perfect, voice raised in song for the Opera Ghost. What faultless register! Picturing what could be if I were allowed the honor to mold, to shape that ideal instrument. She had more to offer than she realized and could accomplish far more than all of the chorus girls. Just the image of our two voices entwined in song was enough to arouse me in a fiery grip. Christine's voice and my own, meshed in music as one......
Jolting myself willfully from my reverie, I knew that I must make devise a way to arrange communication with Christine. I charged wildly forward, not stopping to evaluate the consequences of such an action, plagued by my love for her. An impasse had been reached. Something must be done or I would surely lose my tenuous hold on sanity.
@-------^--------------
Poor Jules believed me mad. He looked at my list of requests then stared up at me in disbelief. "Monsieur?....."
"I am expecting company in the near future." I retorted curtly with a stare from under my hat that brooked no argument.
"Oui, monsieur, it will be as you wish. However, I believe you have given me far too much money for such purchases. I do not think it will cost nearly what you..." I quickly interrupted him, "You know my preferences, Jules, I want only the finest quality. Whatever is left over, you may keep for your family." I waved away his protests.
"Monsieur Erik, that is most generous of you. I cannot express my gratefulness." he stammered.
Each time I sent him out for me on various errands, he delivered the same speech. Despite my past sins, I held a singular sympathy for Jules. He was a very weak man and terribly frightened of me. It was the least that I could do to provide his family with more food for their table.
"Very well. We shall meet here in two weeks time." I stated flatly.
"Oui, monsieur, I will have made much progress by then." Jules replied.
Turning to end our conversation, I recognized he had more to say. I slowed, looking over my shoulder.
"Pardon my boldness, Monsieur Erik, but I....I am glad for you." Jules faltered with a bow of his head.
I nodded briefly and continued down to the lake, confused by the tears that were threatening.
@-------^--------------
My two new managers were quite a bit more difficult to control than dear Poligny. Richard and Moncharmin became somewhat irritated that the resident ghost wished to be paid for his services, and paid handsomely. It took several "mysterious" incidents in their offices for my salary to be left in box five by the faithful Madame Giry. I was especially anxious to receive my salary promptly now that I had preparations to be made for Christine. God knows why I was planning for her to stay with me as she did not even know of my existence! In any case, arrangements were underway as I waited impatiently for the right opportunity.
The new managers fawned disgustingly over La Carlotta, our current diva. If she only knew the comments made behind her back by those two, her tantrum would be a spectacle. Several different shows were being considered but I believed that 'Hannibal' would be the next production. I attended rehearsals each day to stay informed of progress and also to see Christine. She worked unceasingly and moved with an inherent grace, but I could see that she would never be a great dancer. She seemed preoccupied somehow and I would always wonder what was on her mind. Her heart was just not in the stringent routines that Madame Giry surveyed over with an uncompromising observation.
"Soon, my Christine, soon.", I promised.
[Author's Note: It was my intention to re-tell Erik's story from his pov. However, he is insisting that I change the plot. My muse commands.....]