Disclaimer: Blah blah, blah-blah, blah, and glory hallelujah. I'm almost
sure Erik hides in my bellybutton right now! Should I try luring him out
with bacon?
~ Chapter five ~
The hard thing had been to find a proper way to approach her. He didn't dare to show himself to her, since his mask only made people around him scared. Even those who had no idea what the mask hid or what lay beneath it found the mask intimidating. So that's why he decided to use his voice to get close to her instead.
His voice was the one thing God had been generous with while creating him, and Erik used it whenever he could.
Sometimes he used it to fool around with some of the frequent visitors to the opera, making them think their partners said something they did not. Other times he just scared people with it. It was awful when he wanted it to be, and sweet as syrup when he chose to. It was something he could completely control and the power it gave him could was intoxicating.
And it had all worked, hadn't it? The only thing he asked himself was if he hadn't shown himself to her too soon. And maybe he had let her become a star too soon? It had made her happy, she had fallen into tears of gratitude towards the audience, but considering the fact that her triumph made her more attractive to Raoul, maybe he should have kept her talent to himself for a bit longer.
He had enjoyed every morning lesson they had ever had. He didn't mind her calling him her 'Angel of music'. After all it was just a way for him to get closer to her. Anything that made him get closer to her was worth trying. Everything is allowed in love and war, right?
He used to sometimes sit in her dressing-room at night just to smell the scent of her. He could still feel her presence being left in the room after she had left the Opera for the day, and she felt just out of reach, but he knew that she would soon come there again, waiting eagerly for him. him! Had anyone ever waited with such eagerness for him before? She would be there just in time for their next singing lesson, not once had she been late. So she wouldn't be out of reach for long, just a couple of hours.
Her impact on his life took the strangest way of showing itself, he first noticed it in his day to day basis, and then it even affected his music compositions. It became more hopeful than before, almost with a glimpse of light in it, and it wasn't like him to bring any light into his dark Don Juan Triumphant at all, so he had to re-write several pages of it since it didn't fit in with the rest. It was a frustrating and strange feeling how she had somehow come into his subconscious also and taken over control.
He also started to think of what Christine would think of Don Juan Triumphant if he one day sang it to her. But he came to the conclusion that the child wouldn't be able to grasp the horrors in it and that it might even destroy her precious mind, and he didn't dare to take a chance on that. She was too important to him now.
His singing lessons developed Christine's voice in a way he never even hoped it would. She became more secure in herself, and after following his precise instructions she started singing with such rapture that it nearly scared her. He could see it in her eyes. She wasn't Christine anymore when she sang. She was Aida, Juliet, or Ofelia, singing out their tragedies for the world to hear.
He couldn't hold back or restrain her debut then, even if he had wanted to. He knew she was ready and ripe, and it was the only right thing to do to let her sing in front of an audience, and let them hear something they would never hear again. Such perfection is something every opera-singer tries to achieve but only a very few reaches. But Christine even made it sound simple and natural somehow. Something he hadn't heard in anyone else before.
She truly sang like an angel.
What he didn't know then was what the consequences her debut would give them. But it was all history now, wasn't it? You can't change the past, so why think about things you can't change?
He turned around and after a while he felt sleep coming upon him, and he was grateful, for today he hadn't even felt the pain in his chest since he was carrying the Daroga. Then he had been forced to stop for breath, but he was glad that the Daroga was asleep so he hadn't noticed Erik's weakness. He had gasped for air as the burning pain shot through his entire body, and almost made him drop the sleeping man that he held in his arms. He had been forced to lean towards the cellar wall for a while, but the pain subsided after a few minutes, and he felt how his heartbeat became more regular again.
He knew he was going to die, no medicine in the world could heal a dying man. Heart problems were common amongst singers, or so he had heard. It was ironic in a way, his only blessing in life led to a premature death.
But he welcomed death in a way. It just had such bad timing; like most things in his life had, it seamed. He had just found love. Christine loved him.
No she didn't!
But she could have.
She looked beyond the mask, and had looked beyond it for some time. She didn't care that much about what was beneath it anymore. And she had even agreed to become his living wife. She had said yes to him, and now they were man and wife.
Man and wife!
Oh, how sweet the married life was! If you were married you were allowed to touch your wedded wife. And he had touched her, they had danced, danced! He had never danced before, but it had been lovely! She had been so warm, and so soft. People in forced marriages could find happiness later.
But now he was going to die.
So much for the Opera Ghost!
Ghosts can't die though. But they can feel pain. Too many times he had experienced that, both physical and mental pain. But soon it would all be over. Death had a way of ending everything.
Maybe one day he would really haunt the Opera House from the "other side"?
Erik also mused over the poor managers at the opera. Since he was going to die, he certainly didn't need the twenty thousand Francs they had so kindly given him, maybe he should give the money back to the poor chaps?
He woke three times during that night by the chest pains that refused to leave him alone.
Somehow it felt convenient that he was sleeping in a coffin. If he were to die while he slept, he had nothing to worry about, other than perhaps Raoul. He had to remember to unlock the door to the dungeon in the morning so the young man could get out in case something should happen to him. He was the only one who knew the old way down there, and no matter how much the great booby deserved to rot away down there, he had promised Chistine to spare the young man's life. Had he not?
~ Chapter five ~
The hard thing had been to find a proper way to approach her. He didn't dare to show himself to her, since his mask only made people around him scared. Even those who had no idea what the mask hid or what lay beneath it found the mask intimidating. So that's why he decided to use his voice to get close to her instead.
His voice was the one thing God had been generous with while creating him, and Erik used it whenever he could.
Sometimes he used it to fool around with some of the frequent visitors to the opera, making them think their partners said something they did not. Other times he just scared people with it. It was awful when he wanted it to be, and sweet as syrup when he chose to. It was something he could completely control and the power it gave him could was intoxicating.
And it had all worked, hadn't it? The only thing he asked himself was if he hadn't shown himself to her too soon. And maybe he had let her become a star too soon? It had made her happy, she had fallen into tears of gratitude towards the audience, but considering the fact that her triumph made her more attractive to Raoul, maybe he should have kept her talent to himself for a bit longer.
He had enjoyed every morning lesson they had ever had. He didn't mind her calling him her 'Angel of music'. After all it was just a way for him to get closer to her. Anything that made him get closer to her was worth trying. Everything is allowed in love and war, right?
He used to sometimes sit in her dressing-room at night just to smell the scent of her. He could still feel her presence being left in the room after she had left the Opera for the day, and she felt just out of reach, but he knew that she would soon come there again, waiting eagerly for him. him! Had anyone ever waited with such eagerness for him before? She would be there just in time for their next singing lesson, not once had she been late. So she wouldn't be out of reach for long, just a couple of hours.
Her impact on his life took the strangest way of showing itself, he first noticed it in his day to day basis, and then it even affected his music compositions. It became more hopeful than before, almost with a glimpse of light in it, and it wasn't like him to bring any light into his dark Don Juan Triumphant at all, so he had to re-write several pages of it since it didn't fit in with the rest. It was a frustrating and strange feeling how she had somehow come into his subconscious also and taken over control.
He also started to think of what Christine would think of Don Juan Triumphant if he one day sang it to her. But he came to the conclusion that the child wouldn't be able to grasp the horrors in it and that it might even destroy her precious mind, and he didn't dare to take a chance on that. She was too important to him now.
His singing lessons developed Christine's voice in a way he never even hoped it would. She became more secure in herself, and after following his precise instructions she started singing with such rapture that it nearly scared her. He could see it in her eyes. She wasn't Christine anymore when she sang. She was Aida, Juliet, or Ofelia, singing out their tragedies for the world to hear.
He couldn't hold back or restrain her debut then, even if he had wanted to. He knew she was ready and ripe, and it was the only right thing to do to let her sing in front of an audience, and let them hear something they would never hear again. Such perfection is something every opera-singer tries to achieve but only a very few reaches. But Christine even made it sound simple and natural somehow. Something he hadn't heard in anyone else before.
She truly sang like an angel.
What he didn't know then was what the consequences her debut would give them. But it was all history now, wasn't it? You can't change the past, so why think about things you can't change?
He turned around and after a while he felt sleep coming upon him, and he was grateful, for today he hadn't even felt the pain in his chest since he was carrying the Daroga. Then he had been forced to stop for breath, but he was glad that the Daroga was asleep so he hadn't noticed Erik's weakness. He had gasped for air as the burning pain shot through his entire body, and almost made him drop the sleeping man that he held in his arms. He had been forced to lean towards the cellar wall for a while, but the pain subsided after a few minutes, and he felt how his heartbeat became more regular again.
He knew he was going to die, no medicine in the world could heal a dying man. Heart problems were common amongst singers, or so he had heard. It was ironic in a way, his only blessing in life led to a premature death.
But he welcomed death in a way. It just had such bad timing; like most things in his life had, it seamed. He had just found love. Christine loved him.
No she didn't!
But she could have.
She looked beyond the mask, and had looked beyond it for some time. She didn't care that much about what was beneath it anymore. And she had even agreed to become his living wife. She had said yes to him, and now they were man and wife.
Man and wife!
Oh, how sweet the married life was! If you were married you were allowed to touch your wedded wife. And he had touched her, they had danced, danced! He had never danced before, but it had been lovely! She had been so warm, and so soft. People in forced marriages could find happiness later.
But now he was going to die.
So much for the Opera Ghost!
Ghosts can't die though. But they can feel pain. Too many times he had experienced that, both physical and mental pain. But soon it would all be over. Death had a way of ending everything.
Maybe one day he would really haunt the Opera House from the "other side"?
Erik also mused over the poor managers at the opera. Since he was going to die, he certainly didn't need the twenty thousand Francs they had so kindly given him, maybe he should give the money back to the poor chaps?
He woke three times during that night by the chest pains that refused to leave him alone.
Somehow it felt convenient that he was sleeping in a coffin. If he were to die while he slept, he had nothing to worry about, other than perhaps Raoul. He had to remember to unlock the door to the dungeon in the morning so the young man could get out in case something should happen to him. He was the only one who knew the old way down there, and no matter how much the great booby deserved to rot away down there, he had promised Chistine to spare the young man's life. Had he not?