Hello! i see that you have made it to chapter three, i hope you're enjoying it! i'm sorry i haven't said anything in the last two chapters, but it couldn't be helped, i'm a little new at this AND the computer has finally let me download my story on here. FINALLY!
but yeah, enough about me, here's chapter three. HEY! I'M A POET AND I DIDN'T EVEN KNOW IT!
Part Three:
Lark awakened in a darkened room, different from the room she had just been in. 'This,' she realized, 'must be the room I am to stay in…the one Monsieur Erik will be angry about...' Lark felt a bit nervous about that, she never liked to make people angry; hopefully Monsieur Erik won't be too upset; whoever he was.
She started to shiver uncontrollably and coughed, her fever had gotten a bit worse or it just seemed worse now that she was out of the snow. Looking around the room Lark could see there was a large full length mirror, a dressing room with a wardrobe, and a beautiful black piano with a few sheets of music on it.
Wrapping herself tightly in the blankets, Lark struggled out of the bed with difficulty. She had a horrible headache now but she wanted to see the music that sat on the piano.
Picking up a sheet of the papers Lark looked over its complex notes and rhythms and quickly put it down. Her headache had gotten worse when she looked at the jumbles of sharps, flats, and the other notes that covered the paper that Lark couldn't identify.
She hugged herself tight; never in a million years would she be able to play music that well. Even though she did know a few songs for the piano she hadn't mastered all the notes that could be seen on the paper she had put down. 'How can people play or write music so well?' she thought enviously. She mentally slapped herself, she should be grateful for what she could do, not be drooling over what others could do.
A knock on the door made her jump and Lark threw herself back in the bed and pretended to just wake up as the door opened. "Are you feeling better, mademoiselle?" asked Madame Giry coming into the room bearing a tray of soup and bread.
Lark smiled weakly, but shook her head. "Not really," she replied, "I still feel ill and I have a headache." She looked up quickly, "Not that I'm not grateful! Truly I'm very thankful for your hospitality; you've treated me very kindly!"
Madame Giry just nodded with a faint smile on her lips as she watched Lark eat the soup and bread with a voracious appetite.
"It may taste bad but here's something that will help with the headache." The woman placed a cup of bitter smelling tea on the tray. Lark's eyes thanked Madame Giry more than the girl could put into words. "I will leave you to rest now," said Madame Giry getting up to leave.
Lark had a burning question to ask though, before she left Lark asked, "Who is Monsieur Erik? I don't want to be any trouble…" Madame Giry turned and looked at the girl who was looking back at her with a worried face. "You needn't to worry about that." She said calmly, "Monsieur Erik is no one to worry about."
Relieve spread down Lark as she nodded, but, she was still…puzzled.
Later into the night, when Lark was barely conscious, she could've sworn that someone far, far away was playing, pounding, an organ angrily into darkness. The music that spilt from this organ was mad and frustrated, Lark could tell. Shivering, she fell back into sleep and thought no more of the mysterious organist's angry songs…but somehow, they seemed to come from below…perhaps behind something…
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you can review if you like, it would be much Obliged! )