Wandering Child
Chapter 4-A Proposal
00TheBlackDove00: Thanks for your review. Sorry I couldn't answer sooner. The site was down. The answer to your question is…read and find out!
Miss Black Shadow: You are too kind. You have no need to use your rubber duck army. You now have your update. And yes to your question. But don't tell anyone else. Let them find out on their own.
Tadriena of Mirkwood: Thank you so much! Actually, he didn't really burn her hand; it just felt like it was on fire because he was crushing her bones.
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"I am going to tell you the story of how and why I began The Council of Music." AM1 said. "I want no interruptions from anyone." I nodded. "Good." She said.
"I'll start at the beginning. When I was born, I was a beautiful baby, and all the people in my neighborhood adored me and came over for weeks after my mother came home from the hospital, just to see me. For five wonderful years, I was a normal little girl who was the most popular girl on the block. Then things changed." She touched her mask hesitantly. Then she let her hand drop to her lap.
"I went out camping with my parents. They had decided to bring some friends with us. They were having a big party. Then they got an emergency call from my uncle. My grandfather had passed away. My parents rushed off, forgetting me at the campsite. I wandered around the drunken people in a stupor. I was standing near the fire. Then a spark hit a gasoline tank that was nearby. The tank blew up and the fire was everywhere. I was hit. I was the only one who survived, and I wish I hadn't. It almost completely melted the flesh off of one side of my face. The other side was badly burned, but wasn't too damaged. The burn on the right side of my face healed nicely. It hadn't been hit too badly. The other side..." Her voice trailed away and she touched her mask again. Then, slowly, she removed it. I suppressed a gasp. The entire half of her face was all melted and twisted. It had a sickly yellowish color to it.
"Yes, I know it's hideous." She said as she replaced her mask. "After that, no one wanted to play with me. I was shunned and hated by everyone, including my parents. Even though it was their fault for leaving me behind!" There was hatred in her voice. Then she continued. "I left home as soon as possible. I have been on my own since I was ten years old. I founded The Council of Music when I was sixteen. The only reason I dared to hope for a better life was because of this." And she held up a worn paperback book. On the cover there was a picture of a man fixing his tie. The words The Phantom of the Opera were printed on the cover.
"What does that book have to do with anything?" I asked.
"This is the story of a man who was deformed at birth. He was hated by all. His mother's first gift to him was a mask. The book details how he lived in the bowels of the Opera Populaire in the late nineteenth century. It takes place in Paris, France. This man, Erik, was known as the Phantom of the Opera, Opera Ghost, Trap-door lover, and The Angel of Music."
"Angel of Music?" I asked. "The initials on the manuscript!"
"That manuscript is the original Don Juan Triumphant musical score. He gave it to his daughter."
"Wait a minute, how could he have given it to his daughter if he was shunned by everyone?" I asked skeptically.
"We don't know." AM1 said. "But he was the whole reason I founded The Council of Music. And now Burt comes into the picture." She beckoned Mr. Johnson over.
"I knew you had nothing to do with the police department." I said.
"Burt is a scientist." AM1 said. "His theories regarding the time-space continuum are quite remarkable. He has built for us a time machine. The reason you are here is so you can go back in time and bring Erik here. Not only will he have a better life, but he'll be a hero to every deformed child in the world. Everyone here became deformed either at birth, or because of some accident. He will no longer be scorned. Especially not by the women. There is a great following that practically worships the ground he walked upon. The author's note says that it was a true story, and it's your job to find out if it was or not."
"Hold on a second." I said. "Why do I have to go? And that doesn't explain why you need the manuscript."
"The machine that Burt built needs something from the time period that you want to go to for it to work. And you have to go because you're a neutral party and won't fall at his feet and embarrass yourself."
"But what about my family? They'll worry."
"Not if you arrive back here at the same time you left." AM1 replied.
"You are a cult." I said. "And you're crazy."
"Wouldn't you like to see what Paris was like back then?"
"How would I even get to Paris?"
"We have a special transport that is very private. Tell you mom you're going on a field trip to Paris."
"One problem with that." I said. "I'm out of school."
"Then tell your parents that you'll be away for the weekend."
"I'm not so sure." I said uncertainly.
"We can pay you." AM2 spoke up.
"Well, alright." I said. "But it better be a lot of money, seeing as how I'm risking my neck for you guys." I wasn't going to pass up the chance to have an adventure and get paid for it, too.
"Good." AM1 said. "We have already prepared everything that you will need for the trip. Including some garments that would be very similar to those that you will see on the streets of nineteenth century Paris."
"How do you even know if they're my size?" I asked.
"If they're not, then we'll have to get new ones. You happen to be quite skinny, so you won't need a corset. That will make walking easier for you. As well, you're supposed to stay inconspicuous and not play with the timeline."
"Isn't bringing Erik here playing with the timeline?" I asked.
"Not really. It's just preventing him from committing suicide." AM2 replied.
"He commits suicide?" I asked incredulously.
"Yes." AM1 said. "Now you should really get going. Your plane leaves first thing in the morning."
"How can I tell my parents that I'm going to be away for the weekend if I'm already going to be gone?" I asked. There seemed to be a lot of things that needed an explanation, and they didn't seem very willing to give me answers.
"We have already sent a message to your parents in your handwriting that says you have left to visit a sick friend for the weekend and will be unreachable." AM1 said.
"I don't even want to know how you got my handwriting." I said, standing up.
"AM3 and AM4 will accompany you to Paris. They will make camp in the area where you are supposed to go back in time. The time machine has a cloak and you must put it in cloak while you are away. It is essential that no one finds the machine. Understood?"
I nodded. "Yes." I said. I followed AM3 and AM4 to the door where a neutral van waited. I climbed in and buckled my seatbelt. AM3 was a petite blond with green eyes that had flecks of gold in them. She was probably very pretty before she was deformed. AM4 was a stern young man with long black hair and ocean-blue eyes. He walked with an air of authority. I figured that I could probably have a decent conversation with AM3, but not AM4.
"So..." I said as the car sped down the highway. Mr. Johnson-or Burt-was driving. AM4 was in the front seat and AM3 was in the back seat with me. "Do you like books?" I asked AM3. She just stared ahead and didn't look back.
"I like books." I said, trying to be conversational, but failing miserably at it.
"The only book we like is The Phantom of the Opera." AM4 said.
"I think she can speak for herself." I retorted.
"Actually," AM4 said. "She can't. She's mute."
"Oh! That's terrible!" I said, shocked.
"I'm not mute." AM3 said. "I just chose not to reply. I prefer not to have to speak."
The rest of the car ride was spent in silence. I watched the other cars pass us as we headed for the airport. When we arrived, I used the money that I carried with me always to stock up on beef jerky. It was somewhat healthy and was probably better than airplane food. I just hoped that the plane ride would go smoothly.
A/N: This was a fun chapter to write. I'm on a role! Please R&R. No flames, please. The next chapter is coming soon.