Post by futuremrsingle on Dec 27, 2010 17:38:24 GMT -5
Once more I found my self in a familiar place. I squinted my eyes allowing them to adjust to the dimly lit surroundings. The air smelled old, musty like that of old books and parchment. Shadows were performing a extraordinary dance by the flicker of candlelight and the rhythm of flowing water.
I had been here before, many a times over the past year. I belonged to him.
"Hello, Christine," a rich tenor voice echoed from the shadows.
" Mon ange." (my angel) I said in response.
Paul was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. A playful smirk upon his hald hidden face. He slowly sauntered towards me. Moving with poise, elegance, style….. he circled me once, and I felt the warmth of his breath upon the nape of neck. I raised an eyebrow. His own eyebrow raised, mocking me. I felt a gloved hand beneath my chin. He gently tilted my face upwards to look into his sapphire eyes, intense....doleful. His hand moved to my cheek and carefully smoothed away a stray curl. All signs of mockery were gone now and replaced by a smile.
His mouth opened and closed a few times, as he arranged his thoughts. Hesitatingly he began to speak. "I just wish that I could have truly been there tonight. ...I wish that I could take the joy that I deserve in your triumph. It is selfish of me, Opal."
I smiled softly and shook my head "No it isn't, Paul. You want recognition and I don't understand as to why you can't have it. If people heard your music, knew your genius, you'd be a sensation, my love."
He shook his head sadly. "Your optimism is one of the reasons I love you, Opal. But I cannot..." My thoughts turned to those of the scars that riddled his body, proof of how kind the human race had been towards him. God indeed did bestow a cruel misfortune upon Paul. My heart squeezed in my chest as I thought of the terrified, repugnant boy and how he must have tried to be normal.
“Paul…Ange.” I said. Tears shimmering at the corners of my eyes, I felt them and the trail they left along my cheeks.
“Save your sympathy for I do not need it!” He hissed. Fury. Bald, burning fury building up in his voice as he spoke. "I am a jealous man." Paul said, unexpectedly. I could tell from his tone of voice that this was what had actually been bothering him. The bouquet of long stem red roses from Raoul had not gone unnoticed. I was the first to speak
"Whenever you mention Raoul...you get this look in your eyes. And I thought myself lucky that I would never have to deal with him, but then he showed up tonight and that look in your eyes showed up as well..." I gasped as I noticed the look of anguish in his eyes. I grabbed both his hands, attempting to comfort him. "The look in your eyes...reminds me of what I see when you look at me, Opal."
“Oh,Paul!! It is a similar look because I do care for Raoul. But only as a friend. I am promised to you. You alone. Raoul will never inspire in my heart what you do, my Ange. Raoul de Chagny is a friend. You are my fiancé, and nothing will change that. I love you, " I said fiercely cupping his face. "Never forget that."
"Truly?" he whispered. "Truly, Paul." I lifted my left hand. The simple gold band, as to not cause suspicion gleamed in the dim candle light. "This ring on my hand represents my promise to you. You are to be my beloved.”
“ Opal, what I’m about to tell you, few people know. I gazed deep into Paul’s eyes and nodded my head for him to continue.
“
I am the youngest of two sons. Twins! Raoul, Raoul De Chaney is my brother.”
“My father required me to be Raoul’s shadow. To follow him and clean up the wake left behind. Raoul resented my presence, so he created disturbingly foul messes for me to attend to. He likes his pleasures, and fine expensive things. No matter the cost. It was my job to dispose of the young girls he deflowered, injured, or worse, to hide evidence or to provide a scapegoat for the crimes. He thought it great fun to watch them scream and cry when he threatened to let me touch them. I had little choice in the matter if I wished to live.”
Glancing up at Paul, he looked so forlorn and resigned, as if he was expecting me to leave after his confession. I leaned forward and gently kissed him, this time grasping his bare cheek. "Paul," I murmured, forceing him to look up at me. Reluctantly, he met my gaze, shrinking in on himself as if he was anticipating, anger or even violence. My soul ached as I scooted forward, our knees touching, leaning in to touch forehead to forehead. "Paul, you did what you had to do. It was not right but...you were protecting yourself."
At last it all became clear. Paul was the scapegoat not only for his brother, but for anything happening at the opera house.”
He tried to avoid my gaze, the placement of my hand on his cheek made it quite difficult.Touching, lifting the mask, I pulled it off rapidly and easily. I screamed. Such horror hidden behind beauty. One side of his bifurcated face was smooth, perfect skin… and the other wrinkled and crumpled, interwoven like plant roots, hard brittle, smooth.
“ You! You little prying Pandora! You little demon! Is this what you wanted to see? Curse you! You little lying Delilah! You little viper! Now you cannot ever be free! dang you! Curse you!”
“ Oh, mad Opal. How could you??” He shouted, snatching at the mask and jamming it back on his face. Crying as he raged and shouted, shoving papers off the piano, causing then to cascade over the floor. He clutched at his middle as though he’d taken a bullet, his eyes wide and wild, his mouth curved in irate and red twist. Grabbing my arm he shoved me. Thrown like a rag doll I plummeted down the stairs catching a single glimpse of his tear stained face. I landed at the foot of the stairs with a soft thud. My frail body lay in a crumpled heap.
Quickly he launched himself from the top of the staircase. Landing flat footed and steady. Cautiously he positioned his powerfully built arms under my feeble, delicate body pulling me close. My head rested easy against his chest.
“ Mon, dieu!! Opal! Mon dieu!! What have I done??” He bellowed. With ungloved hands he charily stroked my curly tresses.
When I opened my eyes, it took but a moment to remember…….. I had done the unthinkable, the unforgivable. The sobs came anew, wrenching from deep inside.
“Paul.” I called. “ Ange.” The room was utterly quiet and still.
Out of the shadows appeared a petite silhouette which seemed to stumble as if they had been awoken from deep sleep. "Christine...Christine shhh…… you must take it easy. Rest now.” Said Meg. She sat beside me on my small bed placing her arm around me , pulling me close. I turned and buried my sobs into her neck.
"Ange...where is my ange?? He's...I ...I took off his mask, Meg." I replied in a soft whisper; Meg leaning forward, listening intently.
"You took off his mask? Are the stories true? Is he really...unsightly, gruesome?" Meg couldn't quite help herself. She was a girl of 18, blonde, lanky, curious and inquisitive, which often lead to trouble. The legend had always fascinated Meg and to learn that he was nothing more than a man was a bit disappointing.
I waved my hand as if to brush the thought away. "His face...it was startling, because it..... it was his face. But...the rage, such frenzy. As he should have been."
I shook my head as I recounted the event, as if it would make things more clearer . “He screamed and raged at me and told me that I could never leave..."I …..I've never seen such hatred . It wasn't his face that I found terrifying, it was that look in his eyes."
"I have to go back , Meg. I have to tell him that it wasn't his face, that I still love him..."
What y'all'll think?? Please be honest!! EDIT: Please keep in mind this is a work in progess. I changed the story yet again so besure to read and leave me feed back.
I had been here before, many a times over the past year. I belonged to him.
"Hello, Christine," a rich tenor voice echoed from the shadows.
" Mon ange." (my angel) I said in response.
Paul was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. A playful smirk upon his hald hidden face. He slowly sauntered towards me. Moving with poise, elegance, style….. he circled me once, and I felt the warmth of his breath upon the nape of neck. I raised an eyebrow. His own eyebrow raised, mocking me. I felt a gloved hand beneath my chin. He gently tilted my face upwards to look into his sapphire eyes, intense....doleful. His hand moved to my cheek and carefully smoothed away a stray curl. All signs of mockery were gone now and replaced by a smile.
His mouth opened and closed a few times, as he arranged his thoughts. Hesitatingly he began to speak. "I just wish that I could have truly been there tonight. ...I wish that I could take the joy that I deserve in your triumph. It is selfish of me, Opal."
I smiled softly and shook my head "No it isn't, Paul. You want recognition and I don't understand as to why you can't have it. If people heard your music, knew your genius, you'd be a sensation, my love."
He shook his head sadly. "Your optimism is one of the reasons I love you, Opal. But I cannot..." My thoughts turned to those of the scars that riddled his body, proof of how kind the human race had been towards him. God indeed did bestow a cruel misfortune upon Paul. My heart squeezed in my chest as I thought of the terrified, repugnant boy and how he must have tried to be normal.
“Paul…Ange.” I said. Tears shimmering at the corners of my eyes, I felt them and the trail they left along my cheeks.
“Save your sympathy for I do not need it!” He hissed. Fury. Bald, burning fury building up in his voice as he spoke. "I am a jealous man." Paul said, unexpectedly. I could tell from his tone of voice that this was what had actually been bothering him. The bouquet of long stem red roses from Raoul had not gone unnoticed. I was the first to speak
"Whenever you mention Raoul...you get this look in your eyes. And I thought myself lucky that I would never have to deal with him, but then he showed up tonight and that look in your eyes showed up as well..." I gasped as I noticed the look of anguish in his eyes. I grabbed both his hands, attempting to comfort him. "The look in your eyes...reminds me of what I see when you look at me, Opal."
“Oh,Paul!! It is a similar look because I do care for Raoul. But only as a friend. I am promised to you. You alone. Raoul will never inspire in my heart what you do, my Ange. Raoul de Chagny is a friend. You are my fiancé, and nothing will change that. I love you, " I said fiercely cupping his face. "Never forget that."
"Truly?" he whispered. "Truly, Paul." I lifted my left hand. The simple gold band, as to not cause suspicion gleamed in the dim candle light. "This ring on my hand represents my promise to you. You are to be my beloved.”
“ Opal, what I’m about to tell you, few people know. I gazed deep into Paul’s eyes and nodded my head for him to continue.
“
I am the youngest of two sons. Twins! Raoul, Raoul De Chaney is my brother.”
“My father required me to be Raoul’s shadow. To follow him and clean up the wake left behind. Raoul resented my presence, so he created disturbingly foul messes for me to attend to. He likes his pleasures, and fine expensive things. No matter the cost. It was my job to dispose of the young girls he deflowered, injured, or worse, to hide evidence or to provide a scapegoat for the crimes. He thought it great fun to watch them scream and cry when he threatened to let me touch them. I had little choice in the matter if I wished to live.”
Glancing up at Paul, he looked so forlorn and resigned, as if he was expecting me to leave after his confession. I leaned forward and gently kissed him, this time grasping his bare cheek. "Paul," I murmured, forceing him to look up at me. Reluctantly, he met my gaze, shrinking in on himself as if he was anticipating, anger or even violence. My soul ached as I scooted forward, our knees touching, leaning in to touch forehead to forehead. "Paul, you did what you had to do. It was not right but...you were protecting yourself."
At last it all became clear. Paul was the scapegoat not only for his brother, but for anything happening at the opera house.”
He tried to avoid my gaze, the placement of my hand on his cheek made it quite difficult.Touching, lifting the mask, I pulled it off rapidly and easily. I screamed. Such horror hidden behind beauty. One side of his bifurcated face was smooth, perfect skin… and the other wrinkled and crumpled, interwoven like plant roots, hard brittle, smooth.
“ You! You little prying Pandora! You little demon! Is this what you wanted to see? Curse you! You little lying Delilah! You little viper! Now you cannot ever be free! dang you! Curse you!”
“ Oh, mad Opal. How could you??” He shouted, snatching at the mask and jamming it back on his face. Crying as he raged and shouted, shoving papers off the piano, causing then to cascade over the floor. He clutched at his middle as though he’d taken a bullet, his eyes wide and wild, his mouth curved in irate and red twist. Grabbing my arm he shoved me. Thrown like a rag doll I plummeted down the stairs catching a single glimpse of his tear stained face. I landed at the foot of the stairs with a soft thud. My frail body lay in a crumpled heap.
Quickly he launched himself from the top of the staircase. Landing flat footed and steady. Cautiously he positioned his powerfully built arms under my feeble, delicate body pulling me close. My head rested easy against his chest.
“ Mon, dieu!! Opal! Mon dieu!! What have I done??” He bellowed. With ungloved hands he charily stroked my curly tresses.
When I opened my eyes, it took but a moment to remember…….. I had done the unthinkable, the unforgivable. The sobs came anew, wrenching from deep inside.
“Paul.” I called. “ Ange.” The room was utterly quiet and still.
Out of the shadows appeared a petite silhouette which seemed to stumble as if they had been awoken from deep sleep. "Christine...Christine shhh…… you must take it easy. Rest now.” Said Meg. She sat beside me on my small bed placing her arm around me , pulling me close. I turned and buried my sobs into her neck.
"Ange...where is my ange?? He's...I ...I took off his mask, Meg." I replied in a soft whisper; Meg leaning forward, listening intently.
"You took off his mask? Are the stories true? Is he really...unsightly, gruesome?" Meg couldn't quite help herself. She was a girl of 18, blonde, lanky, curious and inquisitive, which often lead to trouble. The legend had always fascinated Meg and to learn that he was nothing more than a man was a bit disappointing.
I waved my hand as if to brush the thought away. "His face...it was startling, because it..... it was his face. But...the rage, such frenzy. As he should have been."
I shook my head as I recounted the event, as if it would make things more clearer . “He screamed and raged at me and told me that I could never leave..."I …..I've never seen such hatred . It wasn't his face that I found terrifying, it was that look in his eyes."
"I have to go back , Meg. I have to tell him that it wasn't his face, that I still love him..."
What y'all'll think?? Please be honest!! EDIT: Please keep in mind this is a work in progess. I changed the story yet again so besure to read and leave me feed back.