Pieces of a Phantom soul…..

Howdy-do there Pahntom phans! Here's chap 2; special thanks to Lauren for being my first and only reviewer so far (sob/smile).

Guys, I just LOVE reviews – and I'm most generous to those who oblige, as not only do you receive cookies and cake but an Erik plushie in whatever mode you fancy (eg. Loz has his Red Death figure) …. So how bout it! R and R!

I must explain a little chronological error on my part on Chap 1 that has been bugging me insistently; where the line reads "perhaps the years of loneliness would end this night" - well, that doesn't gell at all! What was I thinking? Do accept from here on in – "years" as being "months". Yes, much better.

Discalimer: I didn't do this before, and the formalities must be adhered to. Ahem. With Erik as my witness (he's currently laughing at my Gerik poster and muttering something about "unarmed pompous fools" - he doesn't like that Gerik weilds no Punjab, it seems-) I can sadly admit that I own none of this fabulous phantom material, it being the rightful property of Missers Leroux, Kay, and Lloyd Webber……. But one day…… (shakes fist)

Chapter 2: Placement of Wings (Erik)

"I think I see….

light

Beauty beaming in dark depths

Too soon it vanishes

and still I never cease looking…"

She was but a child and I knew her better than I knew myself. My years of torment could be read in one sweep of her soft brown eyes. It intrigued me.

A wiser man would have let it be. But I have never been considered worthy of man's law, and indeed if given the choice I would not seek to follow them. I was a monster confined to the darkest depths of hell – a scab on some treacherous underbelly – and yet I saw fit to answer her call for an angel.

"The sweetest song; short notes and words

Long forgotten and seldom heard

Which build and frame one's inner self

only to be forced upon a shelf"

Christine. Such syllables I spoke with fluid ease, and yet they were as precious to me as a most difficult note finally perfected. Here – here, within this fragile wisp of a young girl, was a soul which spoke to my own.

"Why envy me – the broken bird?

Searching for gifts

You already posses…."

Somehow the loss of her father had carried with it the loss of her spirit. An Angel of Music – he had promised. It seems I was doomed to deny her nothing……