Hopeful Soul: A Phantom Story

Chapter Fifteen.

ERIK:

It was a usual day, although this time I had company. I began writing letters to both the new and outgoing management - congratulating Debienne and Poligny on their well-deserved retirement and filling in Richard and Moncharmin about my own duties for the opera. I sealed each letter with hot, red wax and let them sit in the darkness, walking over to the pipe organ that rated against the wall. Christine, I knew, was in her room, but I had no idea if she was sleeping or not. But I knew I had to finish this at some point before my passing - my Don Juan Triumphant.

Ten years, I had spent on this score. From the end of my Persian adventures and all throughout the five-year history of the opera, I spent my free time making adjustments to this score. It is an opera like any other - only it burns the soul with desire and has consumed me ever since its creation. My composing has been the only form of gratification I had ever known and I knew it would possibly stay that way for a long time.

I set my fingers on the keys of the pipe organ for the first chord, glancing quickly at the staff paper and then closing my eyes in serenity. Playing, for me, was an outlet for all of my frustrations, especially those which consumed the tortured, male part of my mind. I felt hands on my shoulders, though I put it out of thought as it had happened in one hallucination of mine many nights ago, but this was surreal. I struck the keys with force on the fortissimo part in the overture, but then the hands grew curious and tugged at the buttons of my black jacket.

Then, I knew, something wasn't quite right. I felt the jacket slip down my arms and I grew cold, looking down to see two pale arms wrapped around my chest. I shot up from the organ and saw Christine, standing there with the innocent gaze in her eyes until she noticed me without the jacket and a blush grew on her cheeks, "I thought I told you to stay in your room."

"I- I'm sorry. I couldn't help it. The music. It called to me."

There was not any logical reason to be upset with her, seeing that the music was a siren in and of itself. One song in particular, a duet between characters Don Juan and Aminta, was fulfilling in ways that any moral human would shun, "E- Erik? Would you mind at least finishing the piece?"

I slammed the manuscript close and hid it in the organ seat, turning gracefully to Christine. She stared at me for a moment and, finally, I grabbed her hand, "I will play Mozart, if you like - which will only make you weep," after leaving her hand, I pulled a collection of Mozart pieces from the organ seat and set them, open, on the stand, "But my Don Juan, Christine, burns."

She fixed into me with the brown eyes of a doe, coming only an inch closer. She glanced over at the collection of Mozart and nodded, "Yes. I would like that very much."

As soon as I sat at the organ seat, she knelt beside the organ. She seemed at peace just sitting there and for once I did not have to worry about her. I smiled softly as I began to run through Mozart's G minor Fugue, glancing every so often at the beautiful girl beside my organ. For me, this whole day was too good to be true and I nodded at her as she stood to move.

As I transitioned into lovely chordal phrases of minor, I felt her sweet hands stroke my shoulders. This was possibly the greatest day I have ever had - with my time spent at the organ and Christine, my only love, at my side. It was all so lovely and I was entirely thankful until she did what I had wrongly trusted her not to do - remove my mask.

All anger I have ever had boiled up at that moment and I shot up, the porcelain in her hand coming to view. It was her! She has disobeyed me! I knew now that my face had the ugliest snarl any man could make and that only made my ugliness worse. As I expected, she shrieked from the horror of it all. Taking a single step forward was enough for her to forward from me and I did much more than that.

With her hair tangled in my fingers, I forced her to look upon me and saw tears streaming down her cheeks, "Feast your eyes! Glut your soul on my accursed ugliness!"

She shivered at the volume of my voice, looking only into my eyes. I left her at floor and witnessed the sobbing mess I had created. This was all my fault. I had made my only love weep and she now feared me. Oh, what have I done? After realizing the true mess I had created, I found myself weeping at her feet.

She stood and I kissed the hem of her gown, feeling her both shiver and rest her hand on my head. Her touch was relieving, but I felt so unworthy due to the pain I caused her. Due to the tears she shed, I felt my sense worth plunder even further and I wanted even more for my pathetic existence to cease, "Forgive me," I whispered in between sobs of emotional pain, "Forgive me, my dear. I only tried to protect you from it."

I walked away from her, propping myself against the wall the organ rested on. For a moment I covered my eyes and let myself cry. After I refocused on her, she seemed shaken by my tears, "Those who have seen Erik's face never go free."

She approached me shyly, resting her hand on my shoulder. Tears still stained her cheeks and I felt even more miserable, "Erik, please," she bowed before me and I looked down utterly confused, "Please let me go. I must perform in your honor tonight."

Though I was tempted to keep her here, she was right. The performance of Il Muto was tonight and if she wasn't already there, the managers would completely ignore my word. I nodded and grabbed my mask from her hand, "I will let you return to the opera. I must hear you sing again. But I suggest you stay away from the de Chagny boy, or things may turn for the worse."