Hi everybody! Sorry I haven't updated for awhile, the summer's been so busy. Thank you so much for your comments, they really mean so much to me - Enjoy!
Christine's Point of View:
Smoothly I sighed as I glanced out of my window. This day had certainly been a headache for pretty much everybody in the opera house, including myself. Why did life have to be so complicated sometimes? Slowly, I recollected my thoughts and remembered what had happened once I had returned. So many people interrogated me with their many, many questions about where I was last night. A horrid headache began to form inside of me. I had no idea what to tell them. Luckily, Madame Giry came to my rescue and told me to go rest in the dormitories. I had remained there ever since.
Outside of my window, the seasons seemed to be changing ever so rapidly. August was coming to an end, leaving behind the laziness of the summer to welcome the gushing feeling of fall. The leaves on the trees were beginning to show an ever so slight hint of color change. The sun set earlier and the air whirled around with a hint of cold weather to come. Everything around me was changing. The environment, my emotions, my friends, it was all so hard to deal with. I needed to take a break, go somewhere and just let out my inner self.
Once again, I glanced outside of my window to see my dear home Paris. The city of so many stories, places, and people. Somehow I knew it so well yet in other ways I knew I still had many places to explore. A few moments later, I heard familiar tiny feet galloping into the room. I smiled as my dearest canine friend hopped into my lap.
"Angel, do you see the city? It's so pretty isn't it?", I said as I held up his tiny face to the window. His fur seemed so soft today and his body seemed so warm. Very gently, I stroked my hand against his silky, silky fur with affection, much to his liking. As I pet him, I decided to look at his eyes. Much to my suprise, I had never noticed Angel had such a golden color in his eyes. Those eyes reminded of someone... someone whom seemed right under my nose...
Within seconds, a very fun idea came into my mind.
"Angel, do you want to take a walk with me around the city?"
My little friend jumped off of my bed and skipped to the door. I grabbed my light blue shawl off of the door and followed my companion with a unexplainable glee.
Erik's Point of View:
Suprising myself, I ventured off with Christine to go and explore Paris. Usually, I never left the Paris Operahouse or my lair. I guess Christine changed that. I couldn't shrug off my mind how gentle her stroking was only minutes before, or how kind her gaze was. I could only dream that she would ever do that to me as a man. I didn't deserve such treatment from her!
Huskily, we scurried several blocks south of the opera. The streets were bustling with livelyhood. Children screamed for their mothers while their parents were admiring the hanging gardens all around them. Each detail of the outsides were fascinating: the engravery on the metal railings, the sculptures molded artistically into the corners of doors and windows. I myself almost got distracted while gazing at my surroundings. Soon, I was snapped back into reality by the opening of a decorative metal door. Christine glanced back to check on me, then continued going on her way.
The sign above the shop read Les trésors de Javier. I never heard of this small Parisian store before. Christine seemed very intrigued, and I started to wonder if she had once been familiar with this place. Once I stepped inside, I came to the conclusion that this was an antique shop of the sorts. The dusty, wooden shelves were filled with a variety of items, each telling a different story from their pasts. The rough crimson carpets started to get stuck on my feet, pulling tiny threads into my nails.
"These nails are going to be the end of me one day" I thought angrily, as I kept following Christine with a pout.
Finally, Christine abruptly stopped at the very back corner of the questionable shop and glanced up at an item new to my viewing. Hiding behind a layer of dust and lurking in the shadows was a small box of green velvet. Absorbed by her own thoughts, she carefully gathered it into her hands and flipped up its tiny lid. Inside was one of the most gorgeous pieces of jewelry I had ever seen before.
The box contained a thin golden chain made up of small ovals joining one another to form one. In the middle of the necklace was a pretty little charm of a sea shell. The outside of the sea shell was covered in intricate little patterns of swirls and twists, making me conclude this must have been a mancrafted piece. Christine's fingers delicately pressed the charm's side to seperate the shell into two parts. Inside were two pictures, one of a man and one of a woman. Could these two people be her parents? Even more so, why was such a special necklace collecting dust in an old Parisian antique shop?
Christine took a seat on the floor and placed the box on her left knee. Then, she picked me up off of the floor and placed me on her other knee. Again, she stroked my fur as she picked up the box to show me.
" Hey Angel, see this? These are my parents! On the left side is my mother, Maria. She died when I was only five, but I still remember everything about her... her eyes, her voice.. oh so was so beautiful! I still remember the times long ago when I used to sneak into her room and try on all of her jewelry and put on her makeup. It was my dream even back then to become a famous opera singer, just like she was. Well anyway, this was always my favorite necklace of hers. Something about it always fascinated me.."
Christine glided her finger across the picture and sighed. Then she continued.
"One day, I remember when my mother, father, and I went to the shore in Sweden. We ran and played together in the sand and got eachother soaked in the water. Together, we had joy that could only be shared by a very close father, mother, and daughter. While we walked on the coast as a happy family, I saw a white seashell in the sand. Curiously, I asked my mother and father what caused the shell to be so smooth and shaped so perfectly. My mother told me the ways of the sea determine how smooth or rough the surfaces were. No two shells were alike and each had their different layers and feels. Full of glee, we continued to walk upon the sandy shores and eventually watched the sunset."
A small sigh escaped my lips as I pictured her vivid memory in my mind. It must have been so nice to remember happy times or recall people who loved you. Families were wonderful, a true blessing many do not recognize until it is too late. I wish I had a family to remember. Christine laughed and teasingly rubbed my ears.
"While the sun set, my mother got down on her knees and held my tiny hands into her palms. For a minute, she let go and unclasped something on the back of her neck. In my mother's hands laid the gorgeous seashell necklace I had admired so many times. ' Christine my daughter, I want you to have this special treasure I have in my hands. My mother gave it to me when I was young, and now I think it is your turn to have it. Please, keep it and remember the rough and smooth roads in all of our lives. The shell must stay strong to stay together while the sea carves its path. If the shell is weak, it will break apart, and never be a whole again' Christine's mother whispered to her. Slowly, she placed Christine's hands on her heart. ' Let the shell remind you of your own heart. Never give up and always stay strong, even if you are feeling terrible. We all must stumble on our paths, but if you believe in love and yourself, you will reach a smooth patch. Promise me you'll do that?' I nodded my head softly and my mother place the necklace on my neck. With a mother's care, she embraced me and kissed my hair. Then, our lovely family strolled home."
Erik felt happy and sorry for Christine, as a small tear ran down her cheek. Her family meant so much to her and it pained her all of the time to think about their time together. Still, the same question stayed inside of his mind: Why was this sentimental necklace sitting inside of this ridiculous shop.
" I wish I could have this again. I really wish I didn't have to trade this in for money. Why is my shell always so rough?"
Sorrowfully, she closed the box and placed it onto the highest shelf. Then, she abruptly stood up and walked out of the door.
Night was soon to fall, and I began to get worried. I didn't want to leave her alone in the city, especially at night by herself. I hoped and prayed she would go back to the opera house.
Soon, Christine's brisk walking turned into a run. Steps turned into meters and meters turned into blocks. I wasn't sure if she even had a particular destination or if she had ever gone so far away by herself before. The winds around us swirled with coolen air. Inner conflicts were gushing through my mind, Christine's mind, and even my dear Paris's airs as we all rushed past the sidewalks. The shops appeared as fuzzy blurs and confusing colors playing tricks on us. Finally, we ended up alone, on a desolent street. And before my eyes, the Seine River stared at us.
Dramatically, she clasped her hands to her heart and broke down sobbing. She felt to the floor and covered her face with her hands, squeezing herself into her own little secure ball, inches from the edge of the hard, stone wall.
"Why? Why?" she asked in between cries as she began forming pictures in her head. It was all so much, so many ideas, so many thoughts, so much left to ponder about. A minute later, she began to draw faceless pictures with her pretty fingers on the ground. After much thought, I realized these invisible drawings were pictures of the sea.
The sun in the sky was starting to perform a ritual very much inconvenient right now. Oh how I hated to leave her at a moment she needed comfort most! Quickly, I licked her cheek and scurried away. I would be back to watch her still, protect her, just in my different form. Yet, she would think I had abandoned her, just like everybody else.
"Never will I abandon you, mon amour" I thought.
I scurried away in a hurry down far into the streets.
Raoul's Point of View:
I was so confused as to what was going on around me. Christine supposedly just "disappeared" last night, and the entire opera house thought it had something to do with me. I felt so terrible because of so many different reasons. Did Christine change her mind about my invite to dinner? Did Christine try to contact me and then get into trouble? I should have stayed there, maybe she really wanted me there to be with her. She was acting a bit strange when I spoke to her. Oh goss, was somebody threatening her!
Christine was such a caring, sweet person, and I know she would never do anything scandelous or be involved in anything unlawful. Now, I was responsible for nasty rumours being spread about her and our involvement to one another. I know I love her. I love her with all of my big, red heart! But does she love me in the same way?
I sighed and mentally pictured her as a child in Sweden. I still remember when I first saw her big, curious eyes so brown and her long, cascading curly hair. Her smile could make anyone's heart melt in an instance. I wanted so badly to make her smile again like that; the way she did carefreely before her family died. Now, she seemed so sad... so sad that I wanted to cry for her...
Christine's Point of View:
Angel, my kind dog friend, just left me so abruptly. I thought it was strange for him to just leave so suddenly, he was usually always by my side, but who knows why he left. It was probably me for all I know, who would want to have to deal with such an emotional girl like me with so many issues? I still gave him so much credit for being my friend, lending me a shoulder to cry on. He truly was an angel of his own kind.
Suddenly, night fell, and I gazed out into the calming river. I realized I ran so far away from the opera that I had no idea where I was at the moment. A howling breeze ran through my dress and I stood up, holding myself to get rid of the chill. A song crept into my mind, and softly I began to sing...
Erik's Point of View:
As fast as I could, I ran out of my hiding in the darkened alleyway and hid behind one of the Seine's many walls. Christine stood nearby, holding herself as the chilling wind came by. The poor girl is cold, I wish I had something to warm her up.
The silence of the night was haunting. The mood was shattered and broken; darker then it had been for years. The silence was shattered however, when a sad, soft voice of an angel filled my ears...
" Every night,
I dream of shining stars
Across the sky.
And every night,
I see you smiles too
Remembering what we used to do.
Every night,
I see your mirror look
So dear to me.
And every night,
I think of singing times.
Every night, Every night. "
Christine glanced up at the moon and the stars. What a night for such a song, so genuine and sad, so eerie and chilling.
"The sea shines out past the sunrise,
The moon flies out onto the sea,
And all the creatures have a purpose,
A place called home, a family.
Am I just an old wash up?
A wandering fish just left behind.
Am I just a tarnished piece of seaglass?
A seashell lost to never find?"
Feeling the emotion of the song, she bowed her head down and look far into the river. The river was so creepily peaceful...
"Every night,
The river washes up
So far away.
And every night,
The waves grow fonder too
Remembering what we used to do.
Every night,
Your touch, your smile, glisten
In my mind.
And every night,
Reflective water pierces
Through my eyes,
Every night, every night."
Sparkling tears rolled down her cheeks as she sang.
""The sea shines out past the sunrise,
The moon flies out onto the sea,
And all the creatures have a purpose,
A place called home, a family.
Am I just an old wash up?
A wandering fish just left behind.
Am I just a tarnished piece of seaglass?
A seashell lost to never find?"
Bidding farewell, she kissed her hand and threw it into the air.
" A seashell lost to never find?"
An ivory tear rolled down my cheek as she ended her heartfelt song. Why did this girl have to experience so much pain alone? Never alone, Christine, you're never alone. Affectionately, I blew her a kiss, wishing so badly to end her discomfort.
Christine turned away from the Seine's viewing. Cautiously, she began to walk away, venturing once again into the heartless streets of Paris to find her way back to the Opera. As always, I followed.
Christine's Point of View:
As I made my way back into the Parisian streets, I began to get very frightened. Paris looked like a whole different city in the night. Oh goss, how would I get back home? I was so foolish to take this walk, getting lost in the eerie hours of the night. I continued walking up the streets, gradually quickening my pace, while surrounding me were sickening laughs. The scorching, bright flames of the street corner lamps all seemed to burn me, mocking my mind as sweat trickled down my face.
Why was everything so dark all of a sudden? The lamposts, the windowstills, the insides of the closed up shops. Suddenly, I lost my footing and tripped on a stray pebble, scattering me onto the ground. My elbow burned like I've never felt a scrape before, and the gruff, masculine voice of a stranger caused me to give out a startled cry.
" In the need of assistance, madamoiselle? I'd be glad to help you." he growled, causing me to shiver.
Scared beyond my imagination, I shook my head in return and tried to back away from the disgusting man. He had a wild, unshaved beard and little black ugly eyes. He wore a wrinkled brown shirt with dirty tan slacks containing holes all in them. The man laughed insanely and grabbed my face, bringing it close up to his horrible black eyes once more. His breath smelled of alcohol and roughly he grabbed my wrist.
" Don't be shy, little one. Now, let's go and have a little fun together, ehh?"
Immediately, I struggled with all of my might to get out of his grasp. Screaming at the top of my lungs, he forcefully grabbed my other wrist and dragged me into a dark alleyway. I closed my eyes, praying to God for my life when suddenly the stranger let out a horrifying scream and let go of my wrists. My eyes widened in awe as my Angel of Music had him pinned to the floor. In his hand, he brandished a sword and held it threateningly to my attacker's chest.
"If you even speak to her again, you will not live to see the light of day again!" my Angel spat out, causing his victim to tremble violently.
"T--hhhh...ee P...hh.aaaa..nt...oo..mmm!" the stanger whispered and finally fainted in shock.
Gently, my angel took my hand and took me out of the alleyway. Thankful beyond relief, I looked up at him, watching the man who saved my life.
Feeling my glare, he looked back at me and gave a comforting smile.
"Got a little lost, mon cher?" he said to me.
So happy that he was with me, I smiled back at him.
"Thank you so much for saving me. I was so scared!" I told him.
Chuckling, he replied, "No problem. I happened to be in town. Come."
Whisking through the streets, he lead me around through a variety of twists and turns. Finally, he spoke once again to me.
"Close your eyes", he said.
Listening to my maestro, I closed my eyes, curious to where he was taking me.
"Ok, now you can open them."
Gasping in amazement, I found us to be in the most beautiful garden I had ever seen before. Surrounding us were roses of every color, eyeing us in full bloom. The delicate green grass tickled my feet, leaving behind a thin layer of moisture on my shoes. Tiny, green leaves poked out from all of the many bushes, adding a decorative fullness to the gardens. I inhaled the flowery aroma and felt the moonlight shining down on us.
"Do you like it?" my Angel whispered in my ear, startling me for a moment. Gently, I nodded.
"I'm glad. Come, we must attend to that cut on your elbow. It must be painful."
Pleasantly, he entwined his fingers in mine once more and lead me through the rows and rows of roses. We arrived shortly at a tiny, white bench with a fountain of water next to it. He signaled me to sit down and soon I was seated next to him. The cold air whirled past me once again and I shivered.
"Are you cold?"
I nodded and he took off his cloak. Tenderly, he placed it on my shoulders. Caring for my cut throughly, I admired how kind he was to me tonight. I wondered how he knew where I was. A question popped into my head all of a sudden.
"Angel, do you have a name?" I inquired.
"Erik, my name is Erik" he replied.
"May I call you that?"
He stopped for a second and laughed.
"Of course you can, Christine."
Once around, I admired my surroundings. The petals of the roses fell so perfectly in place with one another. I noted all of the colors I saw: pink, white, orange, purple, blue, yellow and even black roses. Then, one special rose caught my eye. A single red rose in full bloom, curling slightly at its ends and complete with a dark green stem.
"Do you like that rose, my dear?" Erik asked.
Embarrassed, I replied, "I'm sorry."
"Don't be. You can have it."
Smoothly, he got up off the small bench and approached the rose. With thought, he picked the rose off of the bush. Graciously, he picked off all of the thorns and soon came back.
"For you, my lady."
Still in wonder, I took the rose from his hand and politely thanked him.
" Roses have quite an interesting history. A rose is a shrub of the genus Rosa. There are hundreds of species of wild roses, which grow in the northern hemisphere. Most roses have five petals, although some rare kinds have four. For years, roses have respresented many different meanings. In Ancient Rome, a wild rose would be placed on doors where confidential matters were being discussed. The term "sub rosa" or "under the rose" means to keep a secret. They also symbolize beauty and love."
Christine blushed at this comment. He smirked and continued.
" Different colors represent different meanings. For example, the yellow rose respresents dying love and the blue rose represents mystery. The rose is the national flower for England and the United States."
" How did you find this garden?" Christine asked.
" I explored a bit around Paris and found it here accidentally when I was younger. Sometimes, I would come down here and just think for hours and hours."
Erik's Point of View:
Erik was truly enjoying this special night. He wished it never had to end. Admiring the gardens, he gazed at the red roses.
" Christine symbolizes the same things the rose does" he thought to himself.
He was awakened from his daze by a sudden slight weight on his shoulder. Confused, he glanced over his shoulder to view Christine, restfully breathing as she slept.
"My little rose.." he whispered, and placed his arm around her for the first time. In perfect bliss, he felt his eyelids get heavier and heavier.
Together they slept in the garden, dreaming of love and beauty, as she oh so serenely held his rose.
I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Please read and review :-)