"Blast and damn it all!"

For a moment, I nearly hurled the telephone machine against the wall of Tony Bradshaw's fancy bachelor apartment. I would never be used to these ridiculous contraptions, never!

But time was of the essence. I could no longer bear to be parted from my Veronica. The time had come for our new life together.

Once more, I proceeded to use Bradshaw's hands to call the intricate series of numbers on the telephone machine. What with "zip codes" and "area codes" and all of the damned codes, I could not see how anyone managed to function in this modern society.

"Hoyt Limousine..." the voice answered. A rather young voice that sounded like the owner could have been one of Veronica's old classmates at that silly learning institution.

"I would like to retain the services of a motorcar, if you please..." I demanded.

"What?" the voice asked dumbly.

"I would like a motorcar for hire, with a competent driver, of course..."

An interminable hesitation followed.

"And when would you like this car for, sir?"

"Posthaste."

"What?"

"Er...as soon as possible."

"Okay, sir..." The employee was apparently laboring on what to say next. "If you want a limo right this second, it's going to cost you around three hundred dollars."

"WHAT!" I bellowed. "That is absolute robbery!"

Although I had no lack of funds out of Bradshaw's personal bank account, I still could not bear to throw money away so foolishly.

"I'm sorry, sir, but if you look at our website, it says that we need 24 hour notice for car reservations."

The thought of going back on the internet filled me with more abhorrence than another wrestling match with the telephone machine.

"Maybe you should look into a rental car agency instead."

I nearly smarled.

Yes, of course. That would be an excellent idea if I could drive a car!.

The truth was I had not yet conquered the paralyzing fear of such a notion. It was horrific enough just to contemplate the ride in one of those speeding boxes at breakneck speed. The thought of actually driving and steering such a suicide machine made me feel faint. And this was from a man who would leap across catwalks and swing on chandeliers! I simply could not do it. Not yet. I would have to pay the robbers their money.

"Very well. You shall receive your fee upon the motorcar's arrival."

After giving the woman the necessary information as to where the motorcar should fetch me, I hung up the telephone machine in disgust.

This modern life was not for me at all. I hated it! Glaring about the apartment decorated with red and black leather furniture, I sulked in dismay and self-doubt. This was just too mad a scheme, even for me, the omnipotent ghost Phantom!

This modern life was too much for me.

As I dressed for the meeting with Veronica, glaring at Tony's handsome body and face with petulance, I considered the matter.

Actually, there were some inventions of these times that were quite useful and enjoyable Although I did not like to contemplate such indelicate matters, I could not help but marvel at the invention of the toilet. So much cleaner and efficient than an outhouse or chamber pot. And the large bathtubs were simply divine. For hours, I would soak in the hot water in sublime bliss, taking in the scents of all of Bradshaw's various soaps and creams.

I also found the television set to be quite enjoyable, although most of the stories told on it were silly beyond belief. There was one show I had become quite fond of...a contest called "Dancing With the Stars". As I watched the couples go through elaborate new dances with such inexplicable names as the 'foxtrot' and the 'cha cha cha', I felt reminiscent of the days when there would be such glorious masquerade balls at the Paris Opera House. I especially loved the waltzes for they reminded me of home. Many of the other shows were too confusing for me to watch for long. There were dramatic serials in the afternoons with horrid dialogue that would make Shakespeare weep. There were news programs telling the most lurid and ghastly tales imaginable, often using terms I did not quite understand such as 'bioterrorism'. There were short little half-hour programmes which I assumed were comedies since there was fake laughter sporadically bursting out of nowhere in timed intervals. All very educational and quite maddening.

Yes, I had not realized quite what I had bargained for in attempting to permanently overtake Tony Bradshaw's body. What had I been thinking?

The answer was simple. I had not been thinking, only feeling and lusting and yearning.

It was that damned piece of tripe we had written for that agent that was responsible for all of this. I should have followed Veronica's advice, killed the agent and been done with it. Instead, we had to 'sex up' the story.

Just recalling the endless research of reading one erotic tale after another made my new virile body harden in anticipation. But rather than groan in agony, I loved the renewed feeling of sexual frustration. I was alive again and I loved it, discomfort and all!

My one nightly excursion with the possession of Tony Bradshaw's body had started the fire. The erotic passages of our novel added fuel to the flames. Once again, that all-consuming hunger started up inside of me again. Even in my ghostlike state, I could not stop the yearning. Indeed, I wanted to suffer and lust. I wanted to live once more. But most of all, I wanted Veronica. I wanted her every bit as much as I had ever wanted Christine, perhaps more. No longer was I willing to live with merely melodic masturbation in the dark. Mind control games was no longer enough. Being a voyeur to Veronica's writhing in the dark was no longer enough. I needed...I needed...

And Tony Bradshaw was the instrument at my disposal, the means to an end.

And that was when my master plan came into fruition.

If Tony Bradshaw wanted my presence so badly, he should have me. Oh, yes, the young buck would have more of me than he could ever want! Indeed, he would never be rid of me again.

Once more, I felt his rebellious spirit trying to take back possession of his mind.

"There is no sense in fighting, Bradshaw!" I shouted at his reflection in the mirror. "When will you learn that you have nothing to say in this matter? Your body is mine! Your mind is mine! Such is your fate!"

Flashes of pain sparked behind my (his?) eyes as he tried to once more repossess his own body.

With an exasperated sigh, I searched through the bedroom dresser drawers, finding the hypodermic needle at my disposal. Mercilessly, I stabbed it into my well-toned upper arm, oblivious to the pain as the heroin shot into his bloodstream, forcing his brain to submit to the drug. And once more I was in control.

And a handsome devil I was indeed!

Sporting a blazer jacket, jeans and a pair of loafers, I looked fashionably casual. Veronica would not be able to resist me.

I smiled with anticipation.


The limousine driver seemed to think that I was quite mad to pay three hundred dollars just to go to the nearby restaurant named "Chili's." Once he received his payment, his attitude changed considerably and he wished me a pleasant day.

As I wandered about the garish place with the "Tex Mex" atmosphere, I saw Veronica sitting at a booth, nervously twisting a curl of raven hair between her fingers, undoubtedly sipping at one of her blasted Diet Cokes.

Dear Lord above, how I had missed her!

Dressed in one of her skimpy little dresses, she was a vision of unparalleled beauty in purple. I longed to throw myself at her sandaled feet. That or tear off all of her clothes. And I could not stop drinking in the vision of her until I was intoxicated.

As she turned to face me, the expression on her face took me aback. Yes, she was beautiful yet her eyes were so miserably sad. Had she grieved so for me?

The thought was overwhelming.

"Mr. Bradshaw?" she asked nervously.

Remembering the role I had to play, I assumed the character, smiling with aplomb.

"Good Lord! The girl at Charlie's!" I announced with mock surprise.

Her ivory skin was suffused with the charming blush that I so adored.

"I had hoped that you would not remember that..."

"How could I ever forget such an exquisite moment?" I asked flirtatiously, pouring on the charm as much as I could as I kissed her delicate hand. Just the fleeting touch of her palm made me feel giddy. And I was pleased to see the sadness in her eyes brighten into passion. She clearly felt this connection between us which surpassed time and space.

So strong was our bond that for a moment, I was almost worried that she suspected my ruse. But of course, how could she possibly conceive of such a thing?

Soon, Veronica, soon...I promised.

She pulled away quickly, too quickly as if my touch had stung her.

"We should stick to the business at hand, Mr. Bradshaw."

Her voice was cold and brittle as she folded her arms across her chest.

Had my mottled face suddenly returned? Did my rotten flesh and soul somehow make itself known even under my disguise? I tried to swallow back the rejection and take it in stride.

After all, how could the young child possibly know my feelings? How could she possibly know how much I burned for her? To her, I was simply another stranger, not even her shadow of a ghost. Never had I excelled in the art of patience, but now I must endeavor to do so.

"Yes!" I responded, shrugging off the frustration with a cockiness that I did not feel. Rewarding her with a patented Bradshaw grin, I continued with my pitch for the plans for our novel. "I was quite moved by your story of Erik, my dear. Indeed, I was amazed. I should very much like to see it come to life on the stage. And I should like you to help me."

"Me?"

"Yes, we could write the piece together and split the profits. My other play has already been a success. We could perhaps run the new play on the side, as a repertory piece."

"Hmmm..." Veronica mused. "Well, it seems like a good idea..."

"Yes, and perhaps if it is a success, we could even turn it into a motion picture..."

"Do you really think anyone would be interested?" she asked doubtfully. "In seeing this on the screen?"

"I have no doubt of such," I rejoindered as I recalled the book titles that I had studied the day before. "Think of the current bestsellers. The DaVinci Code was a study of the life of Jesus. The Historian was an account of Tepes Dracula. Both of these stories were best selling novels which made high profits. Surely, there is a taste for the true story about Erik, the Phantom of the Opera."

"I think it's great that you like my work, Mr. Bradshaw," Veronica continued. "But..."

"Yes?"

"I'm really not that great a writer. This whole story I wrote, this book, was kind of a fluke."

"Nonsense!" I scoffed.'

"It was!" she insisted. "I don't know how to explain it to you, but...I'm really just an actress...not a screenwriter or a playwright"

Waving her off, I continued.

"Very well, if you are going to be coy, how would you like to play the lead in the play?"

"Christine?" she gasped, eyes wide with amazement.

"Of course, you'd be perfect for the role."

She looked at me in disbelief for a few moments.

"You'd let me play Christine in your play?"

"I offered, did I not?"

"But you don't even know if I can act!"

"I have an instinct about these things, my dear," I continued, on a role. "I know that you are talented and determined and smart. By the time our masterpiece is complete and filmend, all of the world shall recognize you as a brilliant actress. You could even be on that show, that... 'Dancing With the Stars' program..."

Veronica let out a loud girlish laugh.

"Yeah, right," she giggled. "I should have known you were full of it."

I did not know what that particular expression meant, so I ignored it.

"Please call me Tony."

"Tony," she said, nodding. The look in her eyes was so vibrant and alive I could have just eaten her up. I wanted to hold onto that life force forever. Again, she remembered herself and looked away.

"I still can't believe this is happening," she said. "This book just sort of grew out of..."

Her eyes darkened with memories.

"...Out of a sort of crazy...obsession...with the Phantom. Sometimes I think that I had just lost my mind for a short period of time. Like I was possessed or something...I don't know..."

For a second, her eyes welled up with tears. Oh, my heart! Quickly, she brushed the wetness from her cheeks before continuing.

"I don't think I have any more stories in me, Mr. Bradshaw. I seem to have lost my creative inspiration and I don't know if I will get it back. I would be happy to sell you the rights to the story to do with as you will. But I would just as soon not be involved with the project, either as a writer or an actress. I just...don't have it in me...not anymore..."

I felt an odd sensation in the back of Tony Bradshaw's eyes. Could I possibly be crying as well? The words of the young woman moved me. Did she really care about me so much? Had anyone ever cared about me so much? My emotion strengthened my resolve. I would do anything to make her happy. I would do anything to win her. I would move mountains.

"I feel all too keenly your sadness, my dear. I too have suffered tragedy in life, but sometimes we get second chances." Taking her hand, I looked deeply into her eyes, willing her to listen to me. "Let us that this second chance together, Veronica. Please...give it a chance..."

Her eyes flickered with uncertainty.

"You almost make me believe that we can really do this thing," she said, hope once more returning to her voice.

"I know that we can," I agreed, feeling the unfamiliarity of a smile reach my lips. But then a blinding pain slashed into my skull, causing me to feel dizzy and lose my vision.

"Mr. Bradshaw, are you OK?"

I felt my control waning and Bradshaw's mind slipping from my grasp.

And then...nothing...