Nicole and her mother left the church, map and a bit of hot coffee tucked under their cloaks. They'd lashed themselves together around the waist. Now with darkness falling, and the winds still as ferocious as they'd ever been, the task was going to be even more onerous.
The group in the church had bid them well, saying a prayer over them before they left. Truly few in the church thought they'd find the old woman alive. She was known for her erratic behavior. They having to rescue her from here and there at all hours. She'd never seemed to find her way home, or at least they didn't think so.
One of the men posed a suggestion, which was quickly dismissed out of hand, that she'd have done them a favor if she'd gone off in the blizzard to die. Perhaps then they would be able to get on with their lives. He thought Nicole too fine a young woman to be tied to such a situation, no hope in site of marrying under those circumstances. He'd been chastised by the rest, but still held his opinion, it was an utter shame as far as he was concerned, and that was his account of it.
The first gust of bitter wind flung their cloaks high above their heads, swirling and whipping around behind them like pairs of mighty black wings. They, immediately wishing they'd tied the rope around the outside of their cloaks rather than the inner. They'd made it to what they believed was the main street, though everything was obscured by the mass of snow, the likes of which neither had ever seen. They'd head off to the tavern first. Surely if anyone in the area, or anyone that knew them would have left word there had they caught site of her.
They pushed on through the blinding snow until they came to the beginning of the edge of buildings that would lead down to the tavern. They'd have a distance to cover, and they couldn't stay too close to the buildings lest they fall into one of the gullies that had been carved into the snow by each shop owner. They'd not expected company nor business, it was out of mere survival for the air that they'd done it.
They'd passed just two other lonely souls out in this storm. One was a man who'd gone to fetch medicine for his wife, and another who'd been a good Samaritan cleaning off the tops of chimneys of all he could reach. Neither of them had seen her.
"Mother…" Nicole called out to her. She did so several times before she finally tugged on the rope alerting her mother to stop. She stood still while Nicole caught up to her.
"Do you think it best we stop at home first, collecting more supplies in case we've news that someone has seen her, then we could leave from the tavern?" Her mother had her repeat it three times before she could hear all of what she'd said.
"Nicole…we must stop..if she's been found, there will be no need to resupply. We shall stop there first." Nicole was insistent.
"Mother, we really should, we've but a few more doors and we'd be home, what if she's made it there, then we've no need to go to the tavern."
They were at odds…both ways seemed right. Her mother pulled Nicole close. "If you feel that strongly, then I suppose it will do no harm." Nicole tried to smile at her mother, but her face was far too chilled for any expression.
They forged on passed the tavern. Looking down in, they could see that it was full, and the warmth did look inviting. No doubt their flat would be cold, the last embers having gone out by now.
They nearly slid down into the gully by the front of their house. The old pine that they'd always complained of by the door, was their protector now as they reached for the door that would have decidedly been buried had it not been there for shelter.
Pulling themselves inside, they were at once thankful for the reprieve from the frigid temperatures and piercing winds. They shook out their cloaks, stomping their feet to remove the last of the snow from their boots.
Nicole started up the stairs, looking down at the curious puddles of water on each plank. Her heart skipped a beat, wondering…then her heart sank just as quickly at the realization that it was probably someone who'd come from the tavern to inquire. When she reached the top of the stairs she found an even larger puddle.
"What on earth." Her mother said as she joined her on the landing.
"I'm entirely certain it was someone from the tavern mother, no one else would have come here."
Her mother looked at her sadly, she knew she was most certainly right in her thinking. Nicole put the key to the door, remembering she'd not needed it, she hadn't locked the door in their haste.
Opening the door, she and her mother quickly went inside. They'd expected the room to be cold, but it was actually quite warm. Her mother looked at her, then down at the floor. There were puddles of water inside as well. They both dropped their cloaks running into the other rooms, "Grandmother!" "Mother?" They flew from room to room, looking under beds, in the closets. They stood, breathless in the center of the living room holding each other.
"I don't think she was here, she'd never be so foolish to go out into it again!" Her mother was trying to calm Nicole who'd begun crying. She was exhausted, terrified, worried. An immense sadness had settled upon her heart and she could not shake it.
"How could this have happened mother, how…we've been so careful…" She began to sob. Her mother held her in her arms. It had been too much for either of them to bear. She kissed the top of Nicole's head that was now buried wearily into her shoulder. She glanced over at the hearth.
"Nicole, someone, some kind soul has been here…look at the fireplace." There neat as you please, a fire had been properly stoked, giving warmth to the room.
"But who mother….who would come?" She looked pleadingly into her mother's eyes.
"Certainly not the crabby urchin from below, she'd never do such a thing, even under these circumstances."
Her mother was nodding. "I do not know my dear, I just know that someone was here, and not long ago."
Nicole stared into the fire, her mother was right. "We'd best get what we came for and be on our way. We can thank whomever is responsible when we get to the tavern."
Nicole nodded. She went to her room retrieving her last two pairs of stockings, and changing her inner layer of pants to several pairs of bloomers. They weren't as warm, but then again, at least they were dry. It took several minutes only before they were re-bundled and on their way to the tavern. This time, Nicole decided to lock the door, her grandmother knew where the key was hidden.
XXX
Christine sat sipping at the pot of ginger tea Misty had brought in for her. She fumbled with the pen that was in her hand, rolling it back and forth to keep the ink from dripping on the still blank page that lay on the desk in front of her. How in the world would she put into words the feelings she had for Erik? He was a master of all things linguistic. His eloquence with words were without parallel. She was but a mere amateur, a novice, but in her heart burned a love that had been kindled for years, tended for years, until she knew that it was there. Somehow, there had to be a way to tell him. She exhaled, putting the pen to the parchment.
My dearest, dearest, Erik,
I'm finding myself entirely alone at this moment, thinking of only you. Watching the storm outside has proved to be an unworthy distraction as it too makes me think of you. The brave soul that you are having gone out in it in hopes of saving a woman you barely know.
The snow is deep, and the skies grow dark, and I realize I shan't be seeing you again before morning light. As I sit alone in the room that only hours ago provided shelter for our passions, I am reminded of you yet again. It makes me miss you terribly. To that end, I hope you'll not mind that I've borrowed, however temporarily, several garments that belong to you. Your nightshirt, your robe, even now take the place of the arms that I long to hold me.
I was speaking of you to our children today. Speaking of your bravery, your compassion. That I've never known a man such as their father in all of my life. For truly, there are none like you.
In the months since our marriage, so very much has happened. I know I need not recant the details, for you know them as well as I. What my heart aches to tell you is how very loved you are, and how very loved I feel. I fear my words may not contain the eloquence with which you yourself write, but they are straight and true, I pray you'll understand.
You have been the wind in my sails, the very life blood that flows through my heart, the air that rushes in and out of my lungs with each living breath. When first I came to the Opera House, I was a frightened little girl. Alone, and deeply saddened by my father's loss. I cried myself to sleep in the middle of the night. I was alone…and then you found me.
There was a voice, whispering to me in the darkness, calming me, reassuring me. It was not long that the mere sound of your voice calmed my senses, soothed my soul. Soon, I found myself talking to you, though you did not reply, I knew you were listening.
I began to wonder if it had all been in mind, a grand illusion, the longings of a grieving girl, lost in the depths of her sorrows. In a short while longer, you began to sing to me…oh how my heart fluttered when I heard your voice! My father had conveyed his affections as much by music as by touch and word, and in my heart they had all become one in the same…a great love from a father to his daughter. When you sang, my mind was floating and I was taken far from the cruel reality that had settled upon me.
I still recall with great fondness, the first time I sang with you. A song you'd sung to me so often. It was not intended, nor planned, but a mere act of adulation, genuflection. I thought I heard a tremor in your voice as if you'd begun to cry. My tiny voice was no match for yours, but I could not refrain, it was as if there was an unspoken invitation woven into your music, beckoning me to join you.
You were so gentle and kind, encouraging me at every turn. It wasn't long before our encounters each evening began with a lesson…and ended with your voice, wishing me well, bidding me to rest, to care for myself, and my favorite…that which warms my heart still…that you'd be watching over me…my angel. Those years you loved me, guided me, taught me. You led me down a narrow path that was in utter accord with that which Madame Giry was telling me of a life of a proper young woman. Little did I know then of your relationship with her…I'd not know for years.
I blush, at the thought of a long overdue confession. It is now that I must tell you, though it seems frivolous and moot considering our subsequent marriage vows, but I'd had an admiration for you. A fascination far beyond that of your voice; since first I realized as a small girl what love could be. I wanted to believe so badly that angel could become flesh, specter could be tangible. In my own small naïve way…I'd fallen in love with you.
How can one love what they cannot touch? I could not say, but I knew only that in my heart I truly loved you. As time passed and our lessons became more numerous, I learned how to respect you, not out of fear, but out of unmitigated esteem of your skill. You only expected the best from me. I in turn, wanting to please you, expected no less of myself.
As I grew into a young woman, not far in age from the woman I am now, my heart ached. I realized I'd grown to love a soul that I could never touch, never possess…it grieved me deeply in ways I shan't be able to mention until now. I could never have imagined leaving you, and yet I knew one day, I'd be wanting for a family, a home, yet my soul forbid me to even think of it…I could never leave my angel.
I knew you sensed my distraction. My lessons became rather abrupt, you feeling a bit distant to me toward the end, just a bit distant…I knew that you cared for me. It was almost as if you were preparing to let me go…. It was then that I started to hide in the gardens behind the Opera House, crying. I could never leave you, never. You'd been there for me for so long. Nurturing, protecting, and loving me in every way that was possible for you. I'd wonder in the moments that I cried in the gardens, if you were an angel, why could you not go with me, wherever I went? Then could two worlds actually be possible for me? But lo, I knew not. For even if I should find a suitor, I shan't be able to love him, for my heart had already been given to another. Would that be fair to some worthy man? I knew it shan't.
In all of this time, and things that we've been through together since first you revealed yourself, man of flesh and bone, man I could touch, kiss, love, I knew my heart and mind were sound, I could never have loved another. You had my heart, you had my soul…no one else could have possessed me, for you had already.
A new fear grew within me. A fear of being able to touch what I'd longed for, knowing of your truest existence, your anger, your passions….somehow that frightened me. So very strange, that which I'd hoped for, ney, longed for, once arrived, frightened me to no end. For a brief moment of pure insanity, in my fear, I'd thought about leaving all I had behind, to live a life of an aristocrat. But deep in my heart, even as I uttered those words to the poor unfortunate, would-be suitor, I knew it was him I deceived, as well as myself. I could no sooner have gone with him than I could have lived without the beating of my very heart…and that I had given to you and you alone. There was so much confusion. I'd hurt you…I'd hurt him…and I was driving myself mad.
It is to that end, that my gratitude for your actions will forever be undying. In your courage, or what you've confessed as desperation, you pushed me to make a decision that my heart had already made, but my mind had refused to accept. In that moment, when at the top of the bridge during Don Juan, we joined bodies, you laying your hands on me for the first time in the acceptance of my returning affections, I was alive. Though as good as being brought back from the dead. There was no room for question any longer, not in my mind….I had only one thing left to do, and that was beg your forgiveness for my actions. It is a matter of course we know how things traveled from that point forward.
Those next days and hours after our departure from that world, are memories that will warm me to the depths of my soul until my dying breath…the most tender moments a soul should ever be blessed enough to have. Our love, your love for me, my love for you, I cannot imagine anything stronger, nor truer, nor more potent and intoxicating.
Now, as I sit here in this room, the fruits of our love growing inside me, I think back with such sweetness on the years that you loved me, and the years that I loved you. I shan't ask for anything more in all the world than for you to be home sharing in the comfort of my affections. Truly home is in your arms, so neither of us, at this moment are at home. I am wishing for Godspeed and mercy to carry you back my love, my dear precious husband…my angel.
With all of my heart, Christine
Christine sat the blotter down as she covered the last of it. Her ink-stained finger rising slowly to her lips. She'd thought about discarding it into the fire, starting over. Something more clever, more poetic. She sat before it as though she'd just given birth to it, trying to decide if it was what she wanted to say to him. His love song for her was a confession of sorts…this would be her response. She stacked the several sheets together, sitting them aside as she put away the inkwell and pen. She'd retire to the divan, fresh cup of tea in hand, and read it again She wanted no mistake to be made in Erik's mind, but that she loved him, and would forever…for he'd assured her of no less himself.
XXXXX
Erik's arms ached as he pulled the makeshift sled through the snow. The rope had come undone several times and Erik had to chase the door down the drifts on several occasions. The old woman had made no sounds of protest nor fear. Erik had stopped several times, checking for a pulse, there had always been one, though however slow and slight. Now, he'd a pain in his side that wouldn't let up, though he'd tried to favor it. He'd not made much headway, and with darkness descending on them like a flock of pitch-black ravens from one of Edgar Allen Poe's most sinister tales, his hopes for success were dwindling. He'd come this far, brought her this far, he simply could not give up.
Erik stopped, retying the rope yet again, he lifted the corner of the blanket, "woman…woman…." His eyes felt bleary, his cheeks were on fire from the biting cold of the bitter wind. "WOMAN!" he shouted through the deafening wind, tapping at her cheeks with the back of his hand. Her eyes barely fluttering open, she was trying to speak. Erik knelt down close to her, hoping to encourage her.
"Find…find…the…boy…" She said, her eyes filled with the most pitiful pleading Erik had ever seen. He still knew not of what boy she spoke. He'd been fortunate enough to find her, and she'd been in out of the cold. What chances did a small boy have of surviving in a storm such as this? He reached out his hand, stroking the old woman's hair. He leaned way down, "you'll be home soon." He said to her before returning the covers to her face.
He stood, face into the stinging winds. The snow had turned to sleet, a certain sign that the temperatures were warming. No matter how unpleasant the sleet was, it would provide a hard surface for people to cross the masses of snow. He pulled the already snow-caked scarf back up to cover his face. They still had a fair distance to travel.
Erik mounted the largest drift thus far. His conscience tugged at him for the damage the open window would cause the owners of the home he'd just taken the woman from; perhaps he'd be forgiven for not having let the woman die there. Erick was keenly aware of the superstitions that were prevalent in Paris, and he'd no doubt that a town that indeed took pride in being a small Paris, would certainly have adopted similar ideologies.
Erik knew the truths which the citizens of this city did not. In fact it was those things that would cause terrors in the night for them if only they knew. For there were fates far worse than death, and far worse than anything even the most jaded soul in Chauesser could have possibly ever bore witness to. Superstitions were based on supposition and fear of the unknown. What Erik knew, was based on the unadulterated horror of the purest truth. Death in some cases was a merciful blessing. Though today…for this woman…it was not to be…if it were in Erik's power.
His face stung, his hands were beginning to feel numb. Though the snows had slowed, it was now the bitter wind that howled like a savage beast prowling every nook it could find that wearied him. He'd cheated fate more than once; he'd no intentions of giving up.
As he crested the drift, a gust of wind pushed the door up and over the edge, thrusting it on a runaway course down into the cavernous trench that the drifts had formed between two of the houses. Erik lurched forward as the weight and speed jerked him from his feet sending him sliding face first down into the snow. Erik tried to stop himself but the sleet had begun to form a glassy surface on the drifts and the tangle of his snowshoes made it impossible to dig his feet into the snow to stop his progress. He tried to protect his face with his arm pulled up so he could bury it in the crook. of his elbow.
Before Erik knew what had happened he found himself slid up against the side of the door that had come to rest next to a rather large tree. The door having snapped in half now lay splayed out on the snow. The half still attached to Erik's waist rested against the tree, the other half, lay a distance away. It was that half which contained the woman, and what few blankets remained covering her. He crawled over the slippery surface until he reached the top of the door, peeking beneath the pile of blankets. He slid his hand under the layers feeling for the woman's face. Her flesh was cold. When he moved his frozen hand over to the woman's mouth, he could still feel a warm breath. She was still alive…he had to go on.
He tried to stand, unsuccessfully a number of times, realizing he would have to abandon his snow shoes, they were now more of a hindrance than a help. The frozen layer of snow simply made them more like sleds than anything useful. After removing the webbed pediments, Erik dug the heels of his leather boots firmly into the snow. It would be much more work, each step would require a deliberate thrust of one leg before he could move another.
He closed his eyes, raising a silent prayer. It was in God's hands now…if she would live or perish, it was beyond Erik. He was but a messenger, and with any fortune, the deliverer of this old woman to her family. She was loved, and had once loved, that was worth something….it was something he'd never known…until now.
Christine's face, the face he'd seen of hers when they were alone in the library the night before, when he'd shared his song with her, flashed through his mind. The thought of it filling him with an inner warmth. He hoped that his children would grow to love their mother as this family loved the woman he'd be bringing back to them.
Erik stood, his heels firmly planted into the snow. He stomped his feet through, making a small place where he could easily regain his footing. The door now broken, would be of no use to him. They'd travel the rest of the distance on foot. He knelt once more, reaching under the layers of blankets feeling for the woman. He tucked his head inside, grateful for the temporary reprieve from the biting winds. "Woman.." Erik listened, and there was a faint gasp. She was still alive. "We will travel the rest of the way on foot. I'll have to carry you, the door is broken." Erik listened again for any acknowledgement.
He thought he heard a faint voice, though in the end he would wonder if it was his imaginative mind playing tricks on him. "He was a good boy…I'm sorry I've lost your boy…he had your eyes." Erik was within inches of her face, and though he could not see her, he could hear the pain and torture in her voice. This woman had no doubt suffered much in the hands of the cruel twistings of her own mind Erik thought.
She spoke once more, "take me home, I'd like to see them once more before…" Erik hushed her. "Shhhhh…we will be home soon woman, you'll be with them soon." With that, Erik hoisted her from the door, peeling away all but three of the blankets which he wrapped around her. He was at once on his feet, the woman soundly in his arms. He pulled the cloak tightly around them both, securing either side with his hands beneath her. They'd be there in a short while, he could see the tops of the large pine trees that belonged to only one place in all of Chauesser, the park. And just beyond that and to the left, stood the row of inns that he'd need to travel by to get her home.
XXXXX
Nicole and her mother slid down the bank of the tavern. They'd tried to use the stairs carved into the snow, but in the sleet they'd become slippery, and even more dangerous than taking one's chances by digging your heels into the snow itself. The door to the tavern was opened for them by the two stable boys who come out to throw sand on the walk.
They'd not gone far and yet they were already feeling the strain of the cold and weariness on their bones. Nicole was delirious. Her eyes stung, her head pounded, and her mind was sagging. Beleaguered with guilt and a tired she'd never felt before. She was exhausted, afraid, and though she found herself suddenly surrounded in a rather crowded room, she felt utterly alone.
"Nicole!", her employer came rushing towards her, grabbing her about the shoulders and leading her over to the bench by the warmth of the fire. Her mother being escorted by one of his staff to join her.
"Have you heard anything, seen anything, has anyone reported?" Nicole said desperately.
Her employer was shaking his head back and forth. "No, but you should know, that man came into the village looking for her!"
Nicole looked at him through her bleary eyes. "What man? Who came looking for her?"
"The man, the one with the young wife you'd admired, the one that your grandmother…" He immediately bit his tongue, Erik's words of caution ringing in his ears still.
"He came?" Nicole gasped, raising her hand to her chest. "Why…how…are you certain it was him?" Nicole had slid to the edge of the bench, as her mother joined her.
"What is it?" she inquired. Nicole looked at her mother, "sir, do tell her what you've told me." She said to him.
"Mum, the man whom your mother has had opportunity to see as of late," he swallowed, trying to be polite made the situation all the more difficult as he was trying to be both kind and vague. "He came in on dog sled with father of your daughter's friend several hours ago. They'd gone out to check with him to be certain she'd not gone to disturb him…and he returned with them."
He paused, looking between the two women, both tired and cold, knowing what he said next would have them once again in motions. "I'm quite afraid he's gone looking for her."
Nicole and her mother both gasped. "Whatever for, she'd done nothing to him…" Nicole's mother began to tremble. "No, no, mum, he's every intention of helping." The man lowered his head just slightly, feeling a bit ashamed himself. "He said the oddest thing just as he left, he said, All it takes for the evils of this world to triumph is for good men to do nothing, and then he left."
Nicole's mother looked ashen. "Wherever will he go? We've looked everywhere."
The man shook his head, "he'd asked where you'd been, and then said that he would
start at your house, and work methodically to the north, house by house, and then at the edge of the city, and then back down the opposite side of the street until he came back here."
Nicole and her mother were on their feet. "No, no.." he admonished. "He'd said not to let you go back out into this storm, he insisted that we keep you where it was warm, to see to your comfort." The man said putting his hand on her mother's shoulder.
She looked at him resolutely, "good sir, I've no want to offend you, or disrespect you on account of my daughter's employment with you, but given the circumstances, would you be able to sit by while a perfect stranger sought your own lost mother?"
The man wanted to protest, though he knew she was right. She was a woman of few words, but they were straight and true. "No mum." He said, looking at the ground.
"Then please, do make way, we must go back out." Nicole was nodding her head in agreement though she felt entirely numb as much from the lack of sleep as any other cause.
The man, thinking fast, sought to delay them. "At least warm yourself, have a bit of soup. You cannot deny that you need to warm yourself, have some sustenance, for you shan't be able to go far without it." Nicole looked at her mother, she'd close her eyes for a few minutes by the fire, while they warmed their boots if she agreed.
Her mother looked back at the man. "Very well, a bit of soup, we really must be on our way." The man nodded to one of the staff who'd been standing off to the side. They'd fetch something for them. He walked over to a large pile of blankets that had just been brought out of storage again. He went to the front of the fire, laying several down, and then led Nicole there. "Rest Nicole, if but for a few minutes, you've been up all night dear, you need to warm yourself."
Nicole didn't fight it, she complied without complaint, laying down, closing her eyes nearly as quick as she'd reclined. The blankets were soft, though the floor was hard, her body didn't mind, it needed rest, if however brief.
He walked over draping a blanket around her mother's shoulders. "We must let Nicole rest a few minutes mum, she's dreadfully tired, the poor dear worked all through the night last night, and she'd been here late the night before as well. She must rest."
She looked at the man, "you are right. I should not have asked her to go out again. She is weary, I know she is. Perhaps I shall go out once I've had my soup…"
The man was shaking his head again, "you shan't go out alone in this weather mum, it is far too dangerous. What would she do if she lost you both?"
Her eyes filled with tears. She raised her hand to her mouth covering it just as she gasped pitifully. "We can't lose her…"
The man sat next to her, looking at the ground. There were no words of comfort to offer, for how could anyone hope to find her alive after all this time had passed? She and Nicole had been in and out several times, and they were near frozen. How could she have survived? He only hoped for the two women's sake, that they'd not have to wait days to find her buried under the snow. That tragedy would be far too difficult to bear for them.
Author's Notes:
Captain Oblivious: Oh…not another song to make me cry! I tell you, I don't know what's happened to me, but I think I've fallen in love with POTO all over again. I sat down and watched it through from beginning to end yesterday (instead of my usual mode of fast forwarding to the parts I like most!) and it just moved me. The tragedy, the angst, the longing the love…ahhh. I paid careful attention to each characters facial expressions, imagining what they were going through…oh how beautiful a story it is. I did watch recently, based on recommendations from other Phamily members, 'Moulin Rouge' and 'Interview with a Vampire'. I did like them both, but it made me want POTO all the more…I've become rather faithful to it. So, no more songs to make me cry….I've done enough in recent weeks watching all these movies! Oh, you've probably seen 'Dear Frankie' with our lovely Gerard….I watched that before I went to bed last night….that really made me stop and think about love…Oh, I've got to stop! If you haven't seen it yet, do rent it…but get out some Kleenex because it's a tear jerker.
Yes, the game that they played, as you so correctly described, not only strengthens, but reveals a great deal about those who play it….alas…my real intentions are revealed. It was a good way to elicit some information out of our little group of characters that just may shape some of what happens next!
Hope school is going well for you, and that Susie and your new friend are getting along! LOL! Oh, has Susie met Patmobile yet? It gives a whole new mystery to the term "double-dating". To answer the questions you're probably thinking…. 1) No I'm not crazy and 2) Yes, I think being normal is over-rated!
Phantomlover05: Yes, I could just imagine Madame Giry and Nadir both blushing! But, it was long overdue don't you think?
Phantomfan13: The suspense builds…yes…Erik is doing everything in his power to save her…Hmmm. Yes, 'Pearl Harbor' was a sad movie indeed. So odd you'd mention the movie…I mentioned to one of our other Phamily members, just last chapter, that I visited Pearl Harbor in Hawaii…it was very haunting…to actually stand above the ship over the water, look at the names engraved on the marble wall that is displayed right over the water…to see the flowers that people had thrown into the water…and to read about the last days of the lives of those that were on board the USS Arizona…it added so much to what I saw of the movie…it was so tragic. I'll never forget being there!
Now, I have to wonder… "Titanic" came out on DVD in the US several years ago….they don't have it where you live? But I must say there wasn't much in the way of extra features on the DVD. You should be able to get it on Amazon for a fairly good price if you're looking for it.
Phantomsrogue: Yes, I shall have to re-rent the movie so I can. Sadly, I had to take it back on Saturday, without having been able to watch that second disk. Sometimes I really enjoy a story so much more when I know of how it was developed, from costumes to sound stage, to final production. Yes, I did really enjoy the music…it was so eclectic!
Now, I must confess, I have a rather fiendish grin on my face as I contemplate your last comment….can you imagine…those three subjects in one storyline! What they thought of one another…if they'd ever interacted…run across one another's paths…if Louis or Lestat frequented Moulin Rouge, and if Erik may have seen them there…perhaps learned some of his trickery from them….how Erik may have hated Lestat for what he had done to Louis…the young girl….perhaps that is why he kept such a tight rein on Christine when she was growing up…wanting to keep her out of the hands of those monsters……oh…I can feel another story coming on…..just what I need…another obsession! grins….who needs sleep anyway
Christineluvserik: Congratulations on your new house! That is entirely wonderful! Yes…we should all have our own Courtland Manor indeed! And yes, those times are very, very, busy indeed…but they are so very happy! A house is just a house…it is the love that grows inside the walls that make it a home…and I've no doubt that you will make it a happy one! Please keep in touch….we shall want to know how the new home is progressing! I'm happy you could still find time to squeeze in a little reading with our Phamily!
WriterMuseoftheNight: My, an interesting tag name indeed…but we'll get back to that. Welcome to the Phamily! We are always excited when we adopt, or are adopted by a new member! Thank you for taking time for a review…Erik's transition was a very important part for me. There were areas were I took rather large liberties, such as in changing his appearance a bit, but it felt right to me… Yes, Erik and Raoul being brothers is quite a stretch, but it ties together so many things in the story…brothers falling in love with the same woman…things that they are passionate about, oh…I can't say more or I'll spoil the story! Thank you for working through that part. I am happy to hear that you like the idea of Erik and Christine having a family…ending up together…it warms my heart to know that others felt the same way…if I'm crazy….we're all crazy….and I don't mind lumping myself in that category with our Phamily!
Now, as has become our tradition whenever a new member joins our Phamily…I'll take a stab at your tag name… Hmmmm….. there are so many possibilities here… you are either a night-owl like several other Phamily members and like to stay up and write…or wish you could be one of Erik's muses….or…well, perhaps you'd like to tell us…if you would be so kind!
ForeverPhantoms: Welcome to the Phamily! I must admit to you right from the start, your review made me cry. It is always overwhelming to me where and how this story has connected people around the world. Eight wonderful children…your own Erik…I can only imagine! I am so very, very, happy for you! I am also happy to hear that you and your new son are doing well. It is a scary time when babies are so premature…but the modern miracle of medicine, along with some good old-fashioned prayer can do so very much. I will keep you and your family in my prayers.
No doubt you have read some of the other responses that I've written to other reviewers in our Phamily, and if so I do not want this to sound trite… I am always, and I do mean sincerely always, humbled by the reviews this story has received. When I read how it brightened someone's day, or gave them a chance to work through something on their own, or made them just smile…or in your case kept you company through some of your bedrest….it makes every single sleepless hour I've spent at my keyboard staring out into the dark night sky as I write…worth it. There is an old saying by Emerson…that I absolutely love…it speaks to me of a life worth living….
"To laugh often and much; To win the respect of intelligent people and the affection of children; To earn the appreciation of honest critics and endure the betrayal of false friends; To appreciate beauty, to find the best in others; To leave the world a bit better, whether by a healthy child, a garden patch or a redeemed social condition; To know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived. This is to have succeeded." EmersonThis is the quote I think of when I read reviews. If this story brings a smile to someone's face, then I've succeeded. Thank you for your kind encouragement.
Now, we have a tradition in our Phamily…tag names are of particular interest to us…they often tell us something rather interesting about our members that we might not otherwise know…..Now for you….I think it is pretty straightforward…does this mean perhaps that you will forever belong to the Phantom? Or at least a part of you will love this story forever…and maybe….like the rest of us in the Phamily who are hopelessly addicted to the POTO story…I have been known to be WAY off before, so please, if you are willing…do tell us!