But Christine - fear can turn to love. You’ll learn to see, to find the man behind the monster, this… repulsive carcass who seems a beast but secretly dreams of beauty secretly… secretly. Oh, Christine.
Hi guys. I know I haven’t finished my other things, but I started another thing.. Let me know what you think. It’s just a one shot for the moment. Phanty belongs to Leroux & Lloyd Webber
had placed the ring in my palm. Her two small hands had closed over my own for
a single, precious moment; her touch was soft, tender- something I had seldom
experienced. It was one of the few times she had willingly touched me, and we
both seemed to pause slightly at the foreign sensation. A final barrier was broken
between us as her hands touched mine.
hands belonging to a man; just a man. Not a ghost, Phantom or specter.
walked to the bank of the lake and watched her disappear from sight. I do not
know what possessed me to do so. Perhaps I was a glutton for my own agony. My
chest tightened as I saw her turn back briefly. Our eyes met for a second or
two, and then she looked forward once more. Something I would never be able to
still closed around the ring she had given me, I sat down, allowing the tears
to freely fall now that Christine was not around to see them. My home had never
felt so empty- the oppressive silence was almost too much to bear. How had I
lived like this for so long?
silence was strange tonight though, given everything that had happened above
ground. I would have expected some callers by now; the mob, the authorities… or
both. Standing up and stashing the ring in my pocket, I waded once more into the
murky water before me and peered as far as I could through the tunnel.
Not a sound. No yells of impending doom, no distant flashes of light to signify
torches approaching… nothing at all. My home was difficult to find, I had made
it so, but after all the chaos and destruction I had caused, I was sure that
someone would have found me on hatred or revenge alone.
Madame Giry had drawn them away, or perhaps she had set her daughter the task.
Part of me was relieved by the idea that I would be able to stay where I was
and wallow in the grief that was suffocating me with each passing minute, that
at least I would have my routine and security… my safety, but the other part
told me that I needed to leave… one way or the other. I had either to submit
myself to the mob, or the authorities
and whatever they had in store, or I had to take my future into my own hands
and walk away. Walk away from it all. Whatever that meant…
in this Opera house would now remind me of Christine, the way I had treated her
and the person… the monster I had
become in the end.
wiping my nose with my sleeve, I waded back to the shore. I bent down and picked
up her veil, placing it back on the mannequin. It used to sit atop the
mannequin’s head comfortably, but now it seemed so out of place. It did not
belong there anymore. It belonged with Christine.
decided to leave the portcullis up. For whoever found me in the end deserved
the right to justice or revenge… they seemed interchangeable now. What did I
have to live for now? I still had my music, but Christine was my music. She was my muse, and for the last few years, she and
music had gone hand in hand in my mind. How was I to separate the two?