I'm sorry about the late posting. I was supposed to work in this more during Thanksgiving break, but I decided helping feed the 25 family member who came was more important. I hope everyone had a good break (if you have not had one yet, I hope you have a good break eventually). Here is the next chapter. Thanks will be given at the bottom.
My knees failed me, leaving my body to slide down the wood until I was resting on the floor. "Who's there?" The words came out in a hoarse whisper.
Nothing answered the question. I called out a few more times, but the voice echoing back was always mine.
That…that was definitely a man's voice. I wrapped my arms around me, rubbing my forearms in an attempt to find comfort. Who…
The candle flickered.
I crawled forward, towards the light. The trailing shadows became more understandable as I moved forward. Rows of chairs, softly light by orange light, revealed their diamond-patterned seats.
My hands hit the stage front before the rest of me did. They trailed up the structure and landed close to the candlestick.
That same feeling velvety feeling from the note greeted my fingertips. I recoiled, though I did not know why. Once again, the note was sealed at the third with a red wax skull. A sensation like dread and curiosity settled in my stomach like lead as I took the missive in my hands.
My name was scrawled on it beautifully, beginning the message once more with "Mademoiselle Aminta-Rose DuBois" in that calligraphic style.
"Curiosity is a fine feature, but not one I would encourage in my house, Mademoiselle." I read aloud, thumb underlining the text. There was a patch on the paper that felt as though someone had scratched at it enough to dent the surface without leaving a truly visible mark.
A vicious little wind whipped across the platform. I had felt it grow closer, and I cupped my hands around the flame in an attempt to keep what little light I had from dwindling. The breeze used my hands to quickly snuff the candle. I screamed as I was once again left in that darkness, crushing the letter in my fists.
My mind began flickering though old memories, searching for the melodies that had brought me comfort back in Hell. I flickered through songs that I knew were not too well connected to her. The last thing I needed after being trapped in the dark was my mind playing tricks on me and bringing her back to life.
A song flew from the file of memory and floated out of my mouth. I was taken aback by the choice within the first few notes of my selection, since I had not listened to it in such a long time. How did I even know the words, much less remember them?
"Are you, are you, coming to the tree?
They strung up a man, they say who murdered three."
Flickers of her caused me to falter. I remembered being under my bed, curled up in a ball and quietly humming that same melody as she stormed into the room. The air became stifling, both then and at the moment when the darkness was swallowing me.
"Strange things did happen here, no
Stranger would it be
If we met at mid-Night
in the Hanging Tree."
I rebelled against her memory, shutting her out and opening my mouth once more. She could do nothing here. I was safe, and I knew that. Why then did I feel eyes stalking me, judging me? I kept singing regardless. The music filled the space, the echo of my voice ringing in my ears.
"Are you, are you, coming to the tree
Where a dead man called out
For his love to flee?
Strange things did happen here, no
Stranger would it be
If we met at mid-Night
in the Hanging Tree."
My voice grew stronger with every word, until finally the room was practically singing with me. It sounded so harmonious, despite my own human errors where music was concerned. The feeling of eyes still trapped me, but it was softer now. Like when you are almost asleep, and you can feel your loving father checking on his princess.
"Are you, are you, coming to the tree
Where I told you to run
So we'd both be free
Strange things did happen here, no
Stranger would it be
If we met at mid-Night
in the Hangin-"
Bright lights burst to life, blinding me despite my hands covering my eyes. I turned to face the door, but I had to stop and admire the room I was in. It was like a theater, with red rows of seats. There were maybe a hundred cushioned chairs, with that diamond pattern I had noticed. I was leaned up against a stage. The light slats had dark detailing to them, almost black like charcoal.
The ceiling was solidly divided by the little curtain trim. Above the audience, there were little partitions that made their way down to the farthest wall. Over the stage, however, there were catwalks that the trim disguised perfectly.
One of the hanging platforms was swinging ever so slightly.
A loud squealing erupted throughout the auditorium. I jumped, screaming a little as I did, before seeing the open door and taking my chance. Darting out of the room, I nearly collided with the little center table in the hall.
Tears teased at my eyes as I looked down on another note with my name on it. Sitting right next to my phone, as fate would have it. "Why?" I breathed, clutching that dreaded parchment in my hand. My fist shrank around it as I screamed, "Why are you doing this to me!?"
"Mademoiselle."
I turned to see little Madame Giry, broom in hand like a doll. She stood between the auditorium and I, like a sentinel. Was she protecting me or that place?
I chuckled, albeit nervously, tucking the various notes I had discovered behind my back. "Madame, I'm sorry if I frightened you."
"Do not be stupid, miss." Her words were sharp. An elegant dagger indeed. "If a place looks forbidden, it most certainly is.
"What is that room, anyway? Some sort of theater?"
A small turn of the lips brought both relief and nervousness. I was right, but at the same time, I was right. "Why don't you head out to the garden, mademoiselle? The roses that grow on this property are magnificent."
A thinly veiled threat or a subtle hint? It did not matter, I wanted out of the house. Something about it was not…normal. "I think I will. Thank you, Madame." I snatched my phone, turned on the ball of my foot and marched out of the house, making a point not to slam the door.
I leaned the walls that clung to ivy around the sides of the house. A hedge, twice my height, shielded my walk from prying neighbors. Stepping closer, I would see only some of the outside world through the thick leaves and tangled twigs. The iron gate the car drove through seemed out of place, its position firmly anchored in the hedges. That was until I inspected the hedges further and found a fence, iron as well, that rose almost to my neck.
Escape is nearly impossible. My brain analyzed, regardless of my little desire to run away. Here was safety, if one ignored the strange offenses of the house.
I followed the hedge, dragging my fingers through without a second thought. Birds gently sang, the air smelled sweet. Despite the city raging all around me, it was a quiet paradise.
I came around to the back of the manor, and I stopped. Madame was right, the garden was beautiful.
The man tending it, too.
So here it is.
I know that Erik was supposed to play a bigger role, but I'm trying to avoid the cliche of "Poof! Erik!" There needs to be some kind of build up to the introduction.
The song is the Hanging Tree from the Hunger Games. I do not own that. I do not own the Phantom of the Opera. I just own the idea.
Thank you for following,
emmaaaaaaw, Dove13, 645, Scribe of All Trades, and KeepingThemAtBay
Thank you for favoriting,
Imagination Writer 247, KaraZor-el98, and bella cullen the original
And a special thank you to
KeepingThemAtBay and Child of Music and Dreams
for leaving comments. CMD, thank you for the chapter. It was incredibly insightful. KTABay, I appreciate the compliments!
You both get cookies!
So, the teaser.
Who is the man in the garden?
Why is Erik tormenting Aminta?
Will we ever see our beloved masked man?
Find out...eventually!
