Ok ok I am BACK! this time I rpmoise I AM!

LOOK WHAT I GOT!

...reminds oyu a bit of Tim Burton's Corspe Bride, dont it?

I Am going to be posting the rest of my story, so read it and comment! Warning, it becomes rather gruseom and deals with adult content ( AKA discriptive rape and slaughtering).

Now that I've put you off.. LOL> really ppl tho, I would not normally say this, but the story si heart wrenching and You'll be in love with the characters by the end.

So, since I'mma try to get new ppl to my site, I'll start from the beginning. The grammer and spelling and whatnot get alot better as it goes on and I promise the writing gets alot better as it goes on too. Here's the first bit:

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Pain. Terrible ripping pain that spread from his heart and into his gut. Cold and steady, burning aand flickering, his emotions contridicting themselves entierly. He wanted to hate Christine for all the pain she had caused, and yet, he could not. So this was what it was like to lose the one person you loved to another man. Erik found the emotion beyond unpleasant, beyond surviable. Not that he had expected it to be when he made the decision to release Christine to Raoul’s care. The Vicomnt was no doubt a wealthy enough man that could provide only the best of care for Christine, but the Phantom man found himself worrying over the emotional care that the man could bestoe upon Christine. Would he love her enough? Would he show her the tenderness she longed for? Would he give her music, allow her to trive upon the one thing she loved?

Erik pulled his hood over his face even farther than it had been, to be sure that the milk-white mask was not visible to a nearing citizen. It was cold out, the breeze nipping at his nose, the damp fog of the night dimming and hazing the lit lanternsto light the street. He knew he should not be out here, in the open, among others. But he could care less about what happened to him. All that he cared about was Christine and her comfort….

Turning blindly down an alley way, he made his way into the darker, quieter part of town. Twords the end of the alley, even in his ruined state, the Phanom’s senses jerked in resonse to a barly heard cry. It was distressed, scared, and small. Without thought to common sense, Erik stealthily made his way to the origin of the sound. To his far left, he fund the scource. The form of two burly men we leaning over something, laughing.

“ Given up little one?” one taunted in a gruff voice. “What have ya got for me, eh, yongin’?”

The second man laughed harshly. Erik’s body tensed. They were beating up on some one much smaller then themselves, which anger him all in itself, but then they were heinous enough to go further in their tourturing.

“How’s “bout you show us what you can do, eh, li’el girl, eh? How’s bout you give me a li’el kiss here andshow me what a good girl you are.”

The words struck Erik to the quick. He he didn’t interviene now, the girl would surly meet a horrible fate. A small cry was emitted from the young girl hidden from his sight as he saw the spoken man lean doward. Erik flew into action.

Drawing out his Punjab lasso that he had taken down from the gate that he had almost hung Raoul upon, he flew it high over his head and around the attacking man’s neck. Jerking the rope with all his strentgth, he pulled the man to his back. The second man cried out in pain as Erik took his advantage of surprise and back handed the man, knocking him into the stone wall. A sickening crack told Erik that the blow had cause the man’s head to hit the bricks with quite an amount of force. One hand still gripping the rope that held the first man fast, Erik proceeded to tighten the noose, listening almost in pleasure to the strangling sounds coming from the man. Soon, the sounds stopped, and he was silent.

Erik stood, breathing heavily, He was actually in very good shape, but it surprised him how much emotional pain could take out of you phisically. He looked around himself. Searching the dark around him in hopes of finding the little girl he had rescued. He took a step to his right to look deeper into the darkness, and heard the rustle of clothing in response to his movment. He looked down, his sharp eyes making out the form of a frail girl befor him, in rags. He knelt before the girl, who hid her face in her knees, pulling herself into the tightest ball she could. Erik’s eyebrows pinched together in sympathy, all of his own suffering momentarily abandoned from his mind.

“Ma Chere,” he spoke the French title from “little one”, “I mean you no harm. Please. I want to help you.” He reached out o lift her chin with his hand, but the sound of movement from the large man before her sent he arm flying up to protect her face, her breaths ragged with fear. The Phantom let his arm drop, sighing. “Please madmoselle, look at me. Look into my eyes. I wont hurt you.”

The little girl did not move for a moment but to allow her arm to relax, but then she did look up, her dark brown eyes reflecting his mask in the moonlight. He intook a sharp breath. He had not realized hat his hood had dropped form his head during the fight. He made ot replace it but then stopped himself, afraid any opther movement would frighten the poor girl. Besides that point, she had already seen it, ad looked rather fascinated by it. Was not the point of his mask to guard what lay beneath? He looked into her eyes with his crystal blue ones, not moving, simply staring into the little girl’s doe eyes.

“You see? I wont hurt you.”

The little girl nodded , and to the Phantom’s surprise, he head lolled back, he head making a dull thud against the wall she sat against. Erik squinted at her, attempting to figure out the girl’s motive. Her eyes were closed, her mouth having fallen slightly open, her breath still torn, and uneven but not quick. Assured that she had either fallen asleep or fainted, Erik slipped his arms around the doll like body, surprised and concerned at how thin around she was, at her barley measurable wheight. Christine had whieghed so much more than that, and she herself had been light….

Pain seared once again trhough Erik’s heart like a stab trough th main organ with a red hot spear. He was blinded for a moent with memeory…..



Christine’s face poured with tears, the sorrow in her eyes painful to erik, but e would not give in. He would have her for his bride.



Angel of music,

You deceived me

I gave you my mind blindly.



Erik jerked the Punjab lasso, hearing Raoul choke at the motion.



“You try my patience. Make your choice!” his voice was harsh and ruff, hurt and desperate.



Erik was shaken back to the present when the child in his arms shifted slightly, then moaned in discomfort in her sleep. Again, worry for the little one took over and he rushed away with her.



* * *

It had pained him to return to his destroyed hoem beneath the paris opera house, but where else was he to go with a child in need of food and shelter, and possibly medical care?

He had snuck back in from the south entrance that he had rarly ever used for lack of need, entering through a trap door, then carrying the little one through the labyrth of corridors, along side the cannals of water that ran through the lower parts, flooded years before Erik had come to live there.

Nearing his lair, he listened carfully for any noise that would betray the mob that they were still ran-sacking his home that he had worked so hard to create. Everything he seemed to care about was beng torn down around him all for the love of one woman who had refused to love him back. Shaking his head and refusing to allow memory at this point, he strained his ears. Not a sound came from his lair. Assured of its safety, he found the hidden gondola and lay the girl within I gently, afraid o wake her, and stepped in himself, picking up the long log he had carved into a creation used to push the gondola through the water easily, and began to glide the baot twords his trashed lair. The grate had remained open, and he pushed through effortlesslely, then shored the gondola and carried the girl, making his way through the dark into the room where the swan bed was settled, and layed her just as gently into the bed as he had done with Christine once.



“Close your eyes and surrender to your darkest dream

Purge all thoughts of the life you knew before.

Let you soul take you where you long to be

Only then can you belong to me…”



But Christine would never belong to him,, abd that he had to accept. He shoved the thoughts away as he searched for a match.

He lit a few candles near the bed so that he could see if the girl really was wounded. He lit the last candle aflame, then turned toinspect the girl. A deep anger surged through him harder and colder, twords the men he had saved her from. There was a long gash along the girl’s cheek, her dress slit open, clearly with a knife half way down the front, a skimming scratch following the cut line of material, her arm bruised paifully in the markings of a large male hand. A deep sorrow for this girl iced it’s way to his gut as he reached out and gently truened her head so that the let side of her face was visible. As he had expected, the was a dribble of blood coming from the cornor of her mouth, and her eye was already turning purple. His eyes drifted dreadingly down her body, the poor thing’s rag dress revealing skinny legs that sported many lacerations and scars.

No, he hresolved. He could not allow himself to die just now. Not when he had this girl to care for, when she needed him so desperately. Mabe later, after he had cared for and allowed the girl t leave, mabe then he ould give himself over to the darkness, but for now, he would force himsleve to live.

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soooo feed back if you please . ;)

HELLO ALL MY PHANTASMIC PHRIENDS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

sorry its been so long I got to posting my story on phantomoftheopera.com and it really took off. I figured anybody that read it on here was part of that site anyways and i got busy with other stuff. lol. ok so, yeah, I'm back and fresh with the new year. I'm not going to continue posting my story on here. if you want to continue reading ti, here's the link:

http://www.phantomoftheopera.com/modules/newbb/viewtopic.php?topic_id=4921&viewmode=flat&order=ASC&type=&mode=0&start=0

there you go. once i think of sumthing new to put on here, I will update. love you all.

ok here it is... now christine come sin.. oh and just so you knwo i dont know whatever happened to phantom lily ( lilyphantom??)  so i eneded up writing christines part for her....

Christine shook uncontrollably despite the heavy  many layered quilts that lay atop of her,  the sweat trickling down her temple making her shiver anew. She coughed heavily, her throat voicing its complaint in the raw lines that the coughs created, stinging and burning profusely.

“…. Thank you so very much Doctor Dubois,” Raoul’s voice drifted  through the heavy oaken doors as the two men, one her husband , the other the docor that had just been in to treat her. Raoul had led him down the hall to his office to pay him his due, and was now escourting him to the door.

“ She is in the center of the storm Monsieur DeChangey, but it will pass quickly, so long as she receives regular treatment,” the doctor answered in his cultured voice, deep, and none too soft. Christine winced as the sound resounded heavily against her throbbing head.

“Well it would be much appreciated if  you could come here every fornight or so?” Raoul’s voice was carefully measured, quiet and refined.

“Oh, no, monsieur, she would require a nightly check sir.”

“Ah,” Raoul’s voice was beginning to fade now. “ that would not be too strainious?”

“No, monsieur. I will be completely careful to be sure she is well rested during my time here….” The voices were almost unaudible now. “…nightly check on health….weekly bleeding…” The voices had completely faded now.

            And for that Christine was glad. She shivered again, but not because of her cold sweat. The bleedings were painful and absolutely pointless so far as she could tell. It hurt and it only caused her to feel drained afterwards.  Sighing and pushing such thoughts from present mind, Christine relaxed against the plush pillows, her hair sticking to her cheeks, drenched in sweat. She caught the distant sound of the large doors down stairs as Raoul closed them behind the doctor. And good ridence, Christine thought to herself.

            Raoul’s footsteps neared her door now, the brass doorknob turning on one end of the double doors and her handsome husband walked in. His hair was tied back with a black ribbon,  his  wear  representing his riches, but fashionably, rather then the obnoxious dress of others of the aristocratic families of Paris, France.  His face was  young, his nose narrow and delicate, his cheeks smooth with youth, but his pure blue eyes were tribute to things that had happened to him and the life he had risked to save Christine’s. Christine smiled weirily.  

            Raoul smiled gently back and strode to her bed side, sitting cautiously next her her, and taking her hand.  He sighed, his brows furrowed.

“Your cold.”  Christine shook her head slightly.

“No,” she answered quietly. “I’m hot.”  She fought off a smile when he clenched his jaw. He looked so much like Fermin when he was angry when he did that. “Raoul,  don’t worry.  As the doctor said, I’ll be fine with nightly treatment.”

            Her husband nodded heavily, leaning forward to touch his lips to her drenched forehead. Drawing back Christine now could not surpress a weak giggle when the sweat  from her skin glistened on Raoul’s gentle lips.  She reached up with a great amount of  effort and brushed her thumb along the lines of  his mouth.  Raoul chuckled and wiped her brow tenderly with his fingers in return.  

“ Things will turn out fine, Raoul,” Christine assured him with a tired voice. “You’ve givenme the best doctor money can-“  but her sentence was cut off sharply by racking coughs that caused her body to jolt forward harshly. Raoul reached forward and supported her shoulders to stop the hard, wrenching, jerks of her body as she coughed. After a time, the coughing subsided and Raoul lowered her carefully onto the stack of pillows. Her eyes were closed and she was breathing heavily, her chest falling and rising rapidly, her breath sounding ragged. Raoul spotted a small pitcher of water and a glass cup stood on her bedside table that he was sure one of the maids had placed there. Pouring half a glass of the water, Raoul supported Chritine’s head, placing the glass to her lips. Christine gulped heavily, and coughed slightly when she took the liquid int oo quickly, but once she had downed the half glass her heavy bresathing had subsided substancially. 

            Raoul’s eyebrowns pinched drastically as he gazed at Crhistine’s pastey color. Christine opened her eyes again, meeting his.

“ You look so much like Erik when you do that Raoul. Please stop,” her voice was pleading. It was painful to think about Erik. His face. His voice….that voice.

            That unearthly angelic sound that resounded from the heavens themselves when he sang. Those harrowing vocals as they had washed over her like water from the sea washes over the sandy beach, smoothing over the crevices.  The thought that some how the Phantom had managed to deceive her into believing he was not only her father’s spirit, but The Angel Of Music! Shehad never quite figured out how he had managed it. Christine had never been the most shrewd of mind, but she considered herself intelligent enough to spot a trick when she saw one. But this man… this angel… this phantom  of music had drawn her in so completely it had almost cost her her sanity, and her lover’s life.  It was cold, the whole truth of it all, the idea that all of this could have actually have happened.

“Afraid that my eyes will become those of the Phantom’s, Christine?” Raoul asked in all seriousness, his voice smooth and wonderful; a lover’s voice. Not a phantom’s voice, but a lover’s. Real and genuine.  “I assure you that neve shall my eyes blaze with the fury of a mad man Christine. Never again shall I let that lunatic, or any other harebrained man seduce you into trickery.”

            Chistine moved her head to nod, but her headache had worsened with her bout of coughing, and the slightest movement o her neck caused pain to shoot through her pounding head.

“Don’t,” raoul instructed. “Don’t try to move,. I know.”

            Standing, raoul rounded the large king sized bed and lay down beside her, molding his body to her own. Sighing contentedly, Christine closed her eyes as her husband brushed back her wet hair from her face, layed a simple kiss upon her lips, and pulled her close. Christine snuggled back, burying her paining head into his neck, and drifted to sleep.  

hey all

performance is tonight...and tommarow...and the day after that...wow i'm really hyper...pre-show jitters i guess...