Hello all, this idea came to me recently and I thought I would share it. It's probably going to be in three sections to break it down, since it's longer.
Rating: PG13 because of some abusive behavior.
Disclaimer: I do not own the character of Erik, he belongs to Gaston Leroux and Susan Kaye. I also don't own the Persian, who is also the character of those two authors. I wish I owned the Opera Populaire, but that's Erik's. The plot, however, is mine and other characters I've added in are mine too.

The title came from the song "Learn to Be Lonely" by Minnie Driver, in the lines:
Child of the wilderness
Born into emptiness
Learn to be lonely
Learn to find your way in darkness
...etc. With that established, let's begin:

The year was 1882, and the winter in Paris was no less forgiving than anywhere else. A foreboding gloom seemed to have settled over the once proud Opera Populaire, only a year out of its peak of fame and glory, before everything had turned sour. A rumor of a shadow and a fight for love ending in simultaneously bitter loss and happiness in true love had kept its normal patrons from showing their faces there anymore. In addition, the dancers and actors were flighty now, fearful of a shapeless bloodthirsty phantasm that haunted the rafters.

None of this frightened the Persian, for he knew far more than anyone guessed him to know. As he sat close to the fire in his humble room below the main floor of the opera house to escape the biting chill of the wind outside, he heard a slight creaking overhead that sounded an awful lot like the rats had come closer in search for warmth. But he knew every sound in the opera house, and this was no rat problem, unless rats were six foot tall, cloak-toting, mask wearing musical geniuses.

"Erik?" he called out softly, feeling the man's eyes on him, yet not knowing where they were exactly. His well-trained ears picked up the soft inhale and exhale, and then the faint fluttering of paper to the floor. A note. Erik was not in the mood for conversation. The Persian turned in his chair to hear the all too familiar whoosh of air as the Opera Ghost retreated into the dark inner structures of the building. Something was different, he noted, a more permanent vacancy after his old friend's departure.

Overcome with curiosity, he stood up and retrieved the envelope with the leering red wax skull on the front. That did not frighten him in the least, it was a slight trick to intimidate people who did not know Erik like he did. Upon sitting back down, he broke the seal and carefully folded back the crisp parchment edges to see the familiar weaving script of the Phantom of the Opera. He held it closer to the light of the fire to read the several pages long letter, murmuring the words as he read just as so many of us do. This was far longer than the normal passing note, far more involved than the frequent cheeky remark. He read as follows:

Dearest friend,

I fear that I have not much time left as I write you this letter, even now I sense that I may die of heartbreak or vanish if I do not will myself to live in order to complete this one last task, one last goal to reach before I know that I will not have lived in vain. You were the first besides of course the kind Madame Giry to come to mind in writing this letter, I have faith that you will care for this information and see that it reaches the right hands, that these words may live on to prove their right purpose.

Nadir, my comrade, you do live up to your name in that you are a rare gift, a light, my one connection from the darkness since you freed me from the Sultana those many years ago. Oh, many years ago, back before I was...but let me not get far ahead of my thoughts. I must write this quickly before it all leaks from my mind, for I have not thought of it until now, the memory had kept itself locked in my brain until this previous moment that I had been granted a blessed epiphany.

She is gone.

The one subject of my obsession for these many years, Christine, has fled with the Vicompte de Chagny, and I shall never lay eyes upon her again for my selfish and monstrous ways. I am aware that you know this already, though it is valued to my heart to see these words upon the page and be unable to deny the sad truth any longer. The pain and emptiness is so great that I should cease to live this very moment were it not for my intention to deliver this letter and make one last journey. Yes, I am leaving.

I loved her, Nadir, truly, though she was a fragile thing that I would have crushed in my impatience and unwillingness to let fate dictate the course that I ignored for so long. It was not meant to be, though I wanted it to, fiercely. She understood me, and once she had gazed upon my hideous disfigurement, she did not flee, but felt pity, and oh, the compassion in her eyes would warm a thousand hearts alone with one glance. Fear and pity, however, are a dangerous combination to mistake for love, and she slipped from my fingers as the sand on a beach as I clenched my grip tighter. Oh, the things I have done...

Only three women have ever understood me in my entire life. Christine is the most recent, with Madame Giry close behind in her generous ways and wish to hide me here as an adolescent, which I have always been deeply grateful for. Ah, but the third remains a mystery to you, and she was also one to myself as well until a few precious minutes before I began this letter. This brings me to the utmost important part of my letter to you, my recalled memory. You must guard it closely, and yet, make it known, though you are clever enough to devise my point from that simple puzzle of logic.

I am certain that throughout our friendship, you have pondered over the intricacies of my nature. I often seem to have many personalities, and even now I do not fully understand it myself. You may have wondered over my small sliver of humanity, the one slice of conscience in me that every so often overcomes this monster which commands my livelihood. What possibly could have kept me from becoming a completely heartless, demonic beast, though all aspects of my background supply reason that I should not have any manner of humanity at all? This precious memory I am about to share shall hopefully shed light on this mystery, as it has to me.

The memory came flooding back to me as if I was recalling it the day after, a youth of only ten years, though broken, the formative time for my soul. I was still with the gypsies in the foothills of northern India, unsuspecting that I would treasure that day most dearly. It was the day that I met Darshana.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A/N: I've made a correction...I thought the Persian had no name but I guess he does in Phantom, so it was changed from Nouri to Nadir. Nadir means rare or scarce. ^_^

*hugs Erik* SOOOO good... *will write a decent review very soon* :love: :love: :love:

*is sad that Erik got the hug instead of her* lol...ah well, you still love me because you left a reply! *does a happy dance* I'm writing the next part right now. :yay:

*cough* Um, excuse me; I think he means "Julianna Moncharmin"

...Eh hehehehehe, or maybe not- you never know ;) (Wait, that's right- he must meet her after he runs off to the OP in LA *rofl* Hehe...)

Nice start hun, sounds interesting

More more more!!! :D

Ttfn!

(Shouldn't you be writing your "reflection"? :P... then again, I should be writing mine... hehehe...)

*squee*

A Phantom story!

And...a Phantom story written by darlingest you! That makes it infinite times more exciting!!!! I loved this ever so much. Your style is beautiful!

Ah! Hearbreaking and so gorgeous at the same time! I have always felt for Erik. sighhh. Now, I want to hear about this other woman in his life! :yes:

Ooohhh, a Phantom story? This is exciting... Post more soon, Licia. This is so awesome. I love his remorse. :)

:hug:
Samma

:tehee:
Believe me, if this were a longer story and it went alllll the way to 1980something, I would have him meet Julianna, just because their friendship amuses me. *laughs*

Thanks! And ok, ok, ok! lol

(Reflection? What reflection? I'm a vampire... :lol: I'll start it eventually, heh)

*does a dance kind of like the "no eating here tonight" song from Finding Nemo that Dory and Marlin sing after they beat that ugly fish"* Amber likes my story...yeah, and that's really cool, yeah, it makes me oh so happy...la la la la la... :getdown: lol...*whistles* Thanks so much, that means a lot to me coming from you! I mean, you're my hero!(ine, lol) so those comments make me happy. Hee. :blush: And I know, I have much pity for Erik, so this will kind of be a redemptive sort of thing to show his better side. And you will! ^_^

Yaaaaaaaaay Sammi *hugs you* I'm glad you like it! I feel so loved you guys, aww. Warm fuzzy feelings are here to stay.

What was that? You guys want me to post more? Ok, give me a minute and I'll have it up, because I love ya. :hug:

Ok, this is turning out a bit longer than I thought, so it may even be in four parts. ;-)

~~~~~~~~~~

I awoke that morning with bruised sides and a mouthful of hay, the stench of the animal that had lived in the coach cell rank within my nostrils as if it were still there. The wooden baseboards were my pillow and mattress, the hay my blanket, and the coach my prison.

The rough burlap sack that hung over the side of my face scratched the sensitive scar tissue and made me wince, but I was accustomed to far greater pain than that. I was a sideshow entertainment, not a human being, kidnapped from my unloving home to have my freakish flaws exploited to the most humiliating degree, laughter and beatings aplenty.

The thick curtains covering my prison were suddenly strewn aside, my blessed comforting darkness traded for the blinding clarity of daylight, the one thing that kept me from hiding from myself. The leader of the gypsies, Brishen, snarled at me in disgust while banging loudly on the bars with his mug, forcing me to open my eyes and acknowledge my captor.

"We're here, you, we've got plenty of witless people with full moneybags waiting ta see your pretty face! Wake up!" he taunted with his toothless sneer, bringing his hand from his side and flicking his whip into my cage, causing the leather to bite at my already scarred ankles.

I bit my lip hard so I could not satisfy him with a broken whimper, but merely swallowed and somberly sat up, trying to ignore the leers and snide comments coming from the other members of the group as they gawked at me. Even though I had a mask, they knew what horrors lay beneath the burlap.

"Don' look so glum, chum, everyone's come to see ya! Why, if you behave, we'll give ya ten percent and mebbe even let ya go back to the scum ditch we found ya in after today's showings." Brishen cooed in a cruelly patronizing way, grinning eerily as my eyes widened and my posture straightened at the prospect of being set free.

"Oh, you would like that, eh?" he asked me with poison sweetness, like the charming snake just before the strike, waiting until I crawled a bit closer to unleash the Hyde and kill the Jekyl. The whip flew again and came down hard on my eager hands, stinging like hellfire as new welts formed over old ones.

"Too bad you won't ever get it, you're ours til yer dyin day, which won't be for a good while...if you last that long! Ye don' have anywhere to go anyway, yer mother practically begged us to take ya!" he spit out the words like shards of glass before bursting into horrendous laughter.

My resolve was betrayed by the tearful yelp that came from my lips, only to be destroyed as my face came down hard against the wooden boards, the pain too great for my arms to hold myself up any longer. Tears mingled with dirt, blood, hay, and wood on my cheeks, the salt stinging the surface wounds as the fall and his words stung my pride.

It was true...no one loved me, not even my own mother, who only feared me. The congratulatory guffaws of approval on the Brishen's having tamed the foul creature once again burned in my ears, making me hate them even more. Oh, I have never hated so savagely since then, if I had contained the strength at the time, I would have killed them all without a second thought.

I was dragged from my cell most unceremoniously to begin the torture anew, though I was accustomed to it. Every town the gypsies ambled through would demand at least five consecutive opportunities to see me, among other poor souls, in what they ironically called a "fair".

Every time it was the same: I was drug into an arena filled with mindless drones of townspeople paying incredible sums for a simple glance at either a hoax or a battered reality, my situation being the latter. It was such a charade, these gypsies boasting their stolen prizes as if they had discovered them themselves. Such a pitiful existence...pitiful that I believed them to be far above me.

Each "show" began with the lesser strange sights, and I was saved for last. Then I would be brought out with much gusto and warning, shouts of demonic powers present would come to scare the audience and make the show of me all the more rewarding to the gypsies. More fright meant repeat performances, and larger groups of returning gawkers. I would be flung into the circle after they tore my mask from my begging fingers, revealing my devastating facial deformity and creating the beast that each audience member already had howling in their minds.

It was then that the cruel performance began. Laughter filled my ears as I tried to find a way to escape the spotlight, but jeering brutes blocked every exit and pelted me with anything they could get their hands on.

Hatred flared in my veins. I despised them. I despised them all. If I fought, the whip would come snapping at me viciously as if I were a lion tamer's beast, and if I cowered, I knew I would be beaten savagely afterwards for not putting on a satisfying show.

I bared my teeth, letting them see what they had created, a low growl emanating from my lungs as I voiced my anger and frustration. This sent the crowd into a frenzy, and I knew that Brishen would take the show to a rare level. I almost believe that I had orchestrated it subconsciously from the moment I had woken up that morning.

The rare bravado in the performance was fire, a thing they feared; a thing I embraced. A huge torch was lit and waved before me, as if they believed I truly were a ferocious lion and not a thin, ten year-old boy who had been born with the wrong face.
Every time before that day I had played along and fought my hardest to push away the fire, running around the arena and scaring the daylights out of the braver audience members in the front.
Every time before this day I had seen the storms of gold coins raining down at their approval of this grand parade of terror.
And every time I saw the greed in the eyes of the gypsies, the flicker of gold across their glassy stares that convinced them that they should try to bring out the flames as often as possible.

Poor greed-stricken Brishen, he underestimated me most deeply.

But this day, I was ready. I put on a bit of an act for a minute or so, making Brishen think that he was bound to bring in bulging sacks of gold that night, long enough to make the lure of gold irresistable. I retreated in a very convincing show of cowardice, and he took the bait, lunging at me with all the grace of an elephant attempting to waltz.

One fleeting moment passed where we caught one another's eye and he realized where I had defeated him, how I had suddenly gained control, how I was now the tamer and he the lion. I jumped forward and bit down on his wrist until he yelled and dropped the torch into my eager hands.

I wasted no time in fighting back the other gypsies with the torch and heeded not the anguished gasps that now came from the crowd, the mindless herd that perhaps believed this was all part of the performance. A few sweeping motions at the ground sent the arena up in flames, the ring of fire that was my key prop in my first real stage production - my escape.

Grabbing a coil of rope that I was sure I would find useful later, I fled the tent that soon burst into a raging firestorm, most likely killing at least a dozen of the crowd as it collapsed and began to catch fire to the outskirts of the town. It was then that I discovered how I could thrive off fear, have victory in the midst of chaos, and manipulate people as if they were chess pieces because of the fact that I was far more cunning and intelligent than they could ever dream to be. I was immortal, invincible at ten.

The next hour was a blur, all I knew was heat, smoke, cries, wind, and the aching of my broken body as I fled into the countryside. I was finally free from my tormentors, but still trapped by the world and my handicap. With my mask burned, I was vulnerable and ashamed to be alive, even to be looked at by the birds or beasts. I knew I would never be accepted, so I remained undetected and eventually came across a darkened stable near a quiet farmhouse. Having been treated as an animal, I felt that the horses were my only allies. They could neither break my heart nor voice their horror upon seeing my face.

I do not know how long my dizzying dreamless blackout was in the corner stall of finest hay after I collapsed there, all I recall is waking to the voice of an angel. I peeked over the stall partition to espy this ethereal being, vastly intrigued by this lilting melody that far exceeded the beauty of any of the drunken gypsy ballads that I had overheard before and instantly forgetting my bodily pains.

She stood brushing a chestnut mare, tossing her raven curls merrily as the horse nickered gladly at her song. Why, it was a very small angel that looked much like a girl. My small gasp of wonder caught her ear, and she jerked her head towards the sound, peering into the darkness with her intense brown eyes.

"Who is there?" her question came at me so fast that I froze and shrunk back into the shadows, my companions.

Bless her, she was fiercely curious, for she walked closer to my hiding place and searched the darkness for me, unafraid.
"You do not have to hide. Come out. You are safe here." she spoke softly, naively towards the spot she assumed I was standing in.

I felt as if I were being treated as a frightened kitten, so I answered her gruffly as I emerged from the darkness enough so that only my face was still mostly enshrouded in shadow.
"Hiding is the only way."

She looked surprised as I came forward slightly, not by my answer and actions, but the tone of it.
"Why, you are only a boy..." came her reply before she released an odd sound that I later discovered was a giddy laugh. It was beautiful to my ears.

"You are only a girl...I see your eyes and ears work fine." I grunted cynically, wanting to be left alone, yet at the same time to hear her sing again, if only once.

The girl laughed even more at this, which puzzled me immensely. Obviously, my plan of hurting her feelings so she would leave me be was going strangely awry.
"Of course they do, silly...and why are you still hiding? A stall is no place for a person to sleep in. Come here."

She smiled kindly and beckoned me forward, but I did not budge an inch. I could not bear to scare away someone else, especially this angelic girl who was undeserving of such ugliness plaguing her presence. Even so, she addressed me as a person and spoke to me so civilly that my wonder was unbearable.

"You are a stubborn thing, boy...where did you come from?" she inquired earnestly, addressing me as if I were some fantastical woodland creature she could not figure out.

I swallowed, answering her with silence. One so innocent did not need to know of pain, suffering, or violence, and that was all I would be able to give to her as an explanation.

"Will you at least give me your name so that I may help you?"
Her eyes were alight with compassion, so alien to me, as was her question.

My name...I had one, I thought, though I had rarely gone by it. A name was deserving of a person, I was a monster. Though I recalled faintly a name that I had heard once or twice in passing, a name from my early childhood that my mother refused to let me have for my own, as if she took it back to save it for her real son.

"Erik." The name was mine as soon as it left my lips, and for the first time in my life, I had an identity.

What joy the name brought to my earth angel I cannot express, for her smile lit up the stable and my heart all at once.
"Erik...that is a nice name. A pleasure to meet you, Erik, I am Darshana."

Darshana. I remember you now. If only you knew now, fair observer, how your heart warmed my soul that day.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Gorgeous use of imagery and all of this just screams Erik. You are fantabulous. Airey loves Erik! :D

:heartbeat: Pat

incredible sense of voice, very poinant and bittersweet.
Vivid and specific description, very evocative
Excellent sense of character, location and plot.
Eloquence and suave Erik devoid of overly indulgent unjustified angst
Shall I go paragraph by paragraph or would this plague you?

Aww, I love you Spuddy, that was so nice of you to say, I hope that I'm getting Erik right. And Erik loves Airey. *sniffles* Those were the good old days, lol.

:ghost: Eep, you analysed it! I can die happy now...though...it would make my month (if you so wished) if you broke it down, quotage always makes my heart happy. :shine: And you nominated this! :eeeek: I love you, no really, I do! :hug: Your compliments mean a lot to me, friend.

Working on the next part, guys, if I'm lucky you'll have it tomorrow. ^_^

I adore the way you paint such a beautiful picture with your words! I could see everything so clearly...from the gypsies greed, to Erik's rage and then determination to break free, and finally to the one source of warmth finally offered to him with Darshana's kindness. This is such a lovely story!!

This sentence was amazing...to think of someone not really having a name for the first ten years of their lives...to just be an object for other peoples' cruelty and games! You are doing such a great job of making your readers have sympathy for dear Erik. I can't wait to see where this goes!

I TOTALLY agree! :love:

Thanks guys, you're sweet. ^_^

Sorry I seem to have left this hanging, evil end of the semester papers and finals and things kept me from finishing it, but I shall have the rest for you tomorrow. :yay:

Here's the next part...one part left, it'll be up at the beginning of next week. ^_^ Sorry to those of you expecting romance, lol, they're ten and twelve respectively. :lol:

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"P-pleased to meet you." I stuttered in reply, confused by my own lack of articulateness. I was able to stand unmoved by men, leering crowds, but this one girl simply caught me off guard. I had never been treated so civilly in my entire life. Did she even know who I was? Never mind that, I decided she was only being kind because she had not yet seen my face, which I was in no mood to disclose.

"Well," Darshana began with a brilliant smile, "at least you've got proper manners, Erik. Here, would you please stop being a difficult boy and step out from there? I will not bite you, I would trust the horses to be more inclined to do so than myself." Her jests were lighthearted and pure, she was such a creature of radiance.

I scarce knew what to say to her, I had such a strong urge to hide myself but I was feeling the same strength of a pull to do as she said, she had not brought me any harm up to that point and my mind reasoned that she could only make my situation better. Stubbornly, I stood my ground and shook my head, unable to hold back the sneeze that came from being slightly cold and sleeping in hay that had been a bit damp.

Darshana laughed gently and took a step towards me, causing me to stumble backward and press my back against the wall, my face a fugitive to her gaze.
"You might catch cold if you stay there. You aren't a horse, silly." There was that musical laugh again, that chime on the air which almost made me come closer to catch it lest it fly away.

"I cannot come closer...you do not want to see me." I growled softly, muffling another sneeze. If I had to die instead of exposing this little angel to such grotesque a sight, so be it.

"Why?" her question came so innocently and made me contemplate the word, mulling over it in my mind. I was about to reply 'I am hideous', but I stopped to think for a moment. Why would she not? Children my age had a horrible case of curiosity, and often times they found ugly things such as insects fascinating. Still, I held my ground, but my heart leapt in fear as her expression changed from kind to overly curious and suspicious. I did not blame her, the farm was not in the safest part of town, and I was of an age where I could be a pilfering street urchin looking for some livestock to steal.
"Come into the light..." Darshana said, though it was a request by all means.

My breath was stolen away in anxiety as I realized my situation was not beneficial to my person remaining hidden. If I did not comply, she might get a lantern and hold it by my head so she might see, or worse yet, get her father. He would try to hang me for sure, just to get such a vile creature out of his presence.
"Very well...but...I must warn you..." I started to say, nearly heartbroken by her jubilant and expectant face, knowing it would soon change.

As I emerged from the shadows, I cringed and averted my eyes from her, unable to bear the look of pain I would cause at my wretched disfigurement. When I heard her gasp, I knew our friendship was lost.

"Oh...you are hurt!" she exclaimed, and being utterly confused, I glanced at her face to find not a look of repulsion, hatred, or disgust, but one of the highest concern and sympathy. By God, she was an angel! I was overcome and nearly wept, the tears shining in my eyes.

"You aren't afr...?...y-yes I am." I stammered, unable to figure what to say due to the fact that this was the first time in my existence that someone expressed sympathy for me. She took my hand and brought me from the stall, placing her hand gently at the wounds on my face and arms.

"These are not good, I will have to..." Darshana murmured soothingly, drawing her hand back when I winced and jerked away from her, growling at the pain that my nerves had just now remembered.

"Ouch...I shall be alright, you have no need to do anything." I protested, recalling the harsh iodine that the gypsies had poured on my wounds to keep them from festering and therefore keep their show monkey alive for a little while longer. But she would not have anything of it, bidding that I stay there while she got some medical supplies from the house and assuring me that she would return shortly. Ah, then I believed it was all a lie to get away and that I would never see her again, but for some reason I stayed and clung to the shred of hope that she had instilled in my heart.

Oh, Nadir, she returned to me, and what a lovely sight it was! She not only brought gauze and salve, but a blanket for me to keep warm in, and food and drink. Her gentle hands at once urged me to sit down before they studied my inflictions and began to dab gently with a cloth at my rope-burned neck, my whip-stung limbs, my splintered palms, and my bloodied face that was very near infection.

Darshana made certain that her administering to my wounds caused the least pain possible, and I felt next to nothing of them...my heart and soul was too focused on the extreme love I was being shown, and it moved me to tears. Though, unlike every previous time, the tears felt like refreshing rain on my cheeks instead of stinging salt. It was because these were not tears of hate, sadness, or pain, but those of gratitude.

"Are you alright, Erik? I am not hurting you, am I?" she asked softly, stopping when she noticed the glimmering tears on my cheeks.

“Yes, and no.” I managed to choke out, shaking my head slightly, though not enough to interrupt her caring for a few burns on my face, “Thank you...” The words slipped from my mouth, strange and beautiful. I had never uttered them before because I had never been treated such as to merit thankfulness. I attempted to stop my weeping as she gently dried my eyes and bid me drink as she continued her work. I gladly drank of the sweet wine, never having tasted such divine a liquid in the whole of my previous existence.

“There there friend, it is well, no need for tears. My papa taught me to care for people who are hurting.” she reassured me, acting as if this was a mere gesture of kindness, though to me it was a miracle of compassion. Her expression turned curious again as she gently cleaned my face, her eyes not lingering over my deformity in gross fascination, but to make sure she did not leave one centimeter untouched and without care.
“You are the boy from the fair...the one that they are looking for.” Darshana stated, not letting anything slip past her observant gaze that let her catch on to more than she would admit. There was nothing harsh or accusing in her tone, only that of sympathy and truth, but I froze, thinking for certain that she would turn me in.

“Oh please do not let them have me again, Darshana, you do not know what they do, they hurt me...they...” I began, desperate not to fall in with them again. But a calm staying hand stopped me as I tried to sit up.

"Shh, do not worry, Erik, as I said before, you are safe here. I have seen how they treat their horses...I suspect they treat you no better. I would not let them take you for the world, my new friend." she murmured softly, wrapping gauze around my arms and packing bandages on the scar tissue on my face.

Fresh tears glimmered in my eyes as I watched her curiously. I was her new friend. She puzzled me beyond belief, I would have to know what her secret power was that made her so kind, so loving, so fearless.
"You do not fear me as they do...you have seen my face but you do not hide as others do...they make me wear a mask but you let me go exposed...why?" I asked sleepily, the drink and food warm in my belly, comforting me to rest. I may have been a genius then, but I was still a child and curious, ever eager to question.

"People fear what they cannot understand, Erik. There is nothing wrong with your face...you cannot help that you look different. And..." she paused, looking unsure before she revealed something personal to me, "we all have masks, facades to hide our deformities. I know too well."

I gazed unblinkingly and puzzled as she reached down and pulled her dress up slightly. I turned my face away in embarrassment before she assured that it was all right, that I could look. As I turned back, I glanced to see that one of her legs was wooden - amputated. I would never have known, she walked with such grace, almost swanlike, and she had flesh-colored cloth pulled tight over it.

"I lost it in a fire when I was only a year old," she explained, rinsing the wounds on my legs, "it was so badly burned that there was nothing they could do to save it."
Her eyes seemed to reflect the flames from that night, the pain all too near for her to remember it. I hated to see her so stricken with a memory, so I placed a comforting hand on hers. It seemed to draw her back to the present, for she blinked and smiled kindly at me.
"When people look at me, they see me for who I am because I cover up my flaw, Erik. Others that see my leg do not understand and judge me before I can show them myself. I am sorry that yours is more evident."

I nodded vaguely, my eyelids heavy with sleep.
"I never would have known. And I have my mask...I can survive if I have a mask." I mumbled, pausing to yawn before my eyes closed fully. The loss of my original mask in the fire was distressing to me, I had felt exposed until Darshana had covered my hideous secret with the gauze.

A soft sigh reached my ears from where she was sitting just before I felt her pull the blanket over me, the fine, soothing wool a stark contrast between the coarse burlap I had been given by the gypsies.

"I look to the day when the world will understand, Erik. The day when we can cast away our masks and live as we deserve to. They will learn to see the beauty in the imperfect...one day." she whispered the words of wisdom that reached far beyond her age with much determination. The way she said it made me fully believe I would see that day and molded a smile into my expression, possibly the first time I had ever truly smiled in my existence until that point. Her wisdom, sealed with a kiss upon my forehead, buried itself into my heart to radiate humanity for years afterward.

"Will you sing for me?" I pleaded through closed eyes, desperately wishing to hear her song again, the true pure music that awakened the composer in my soul.

Her voice chimed in a laugh.
"One last time...until you fall asleep."

The last I ever heard of her voice was that night, in what may have been no more than a simple nursery rhyme, though to me it was an intricate movement of a piece in an opera - a grand masterpiece of music that danced joyfully in my dreams and taught me to live through song. Songs contained her essence, I soon discovered, though I did not realize until now that it is what I always sought in music: to find that love, that joy once more.

I swear you're so cute and so are your stories. Cute being keyword for adorable and absolutely amazing/mind boggling, of course. :hug: They were the good old days! siiiiiiigh.

:heartbeat: Pat

that's gotta be my favourite sentence so far. so true, and yet so hard to do in real life. Guess we're all guilty of instinctively going "eeew" when something's not-so-beautiful. she's a very mature girl, hehe, but it's beautiful. they're sooo heartbreakingly cute together :yahoo

Awww, thanks guys, I'll give you more isolated responses after this, I just wanted to post the end (so you have one and this isn't drawn out):

I awoke the next morning to extra provisions and a small amount of money, along with a note from my kind angel telling me of the best way to escape and be unseen by my gypsy captors. She would stay with her father to ward off any suspicious men, to ensure my safety. I never saw her again, but she remained in my heart for many years.

Though I am reluctant to admit it, the memory of her faded as insecurity and hatred crept back into my heart and soul. Time after time of being shrunk away from built new walls around my heart and her kindness became a shadow, her compassion a phantom of love, and I began to doubt that it even happened at all, that perhaps it was merely a dream.

However, Nadir, my dear friend, when this memory came back to me, I knew it had been real, and I realized that my ways were awry, that I had forgotten her most important message: that of compassion. Hatred is a fickle friend, and it only increases one's isolation. Hatred repels, love draws near. Oh, but it has been so long since I have felt that love, though I wish to draw near, to feel that once more.

I must find her. Nadir, if she lives, I must go and see her again, to rekindle that friendship and show her how she has affected this wretched shadow of a man. This is why I am leaving you and this place, my domain, I know not if or when I shall return, but I must do this last thing to feel as if at least I have accomplished something for good. If she has been persecuted for her deformity, I do not know how my heart shall take it, it would surely burst from sadness. I hope she has had a far better life than I.

I leave this memory in your hands, my dear friend, so that you may perhaps spread Darshana's message to all that you know and gain some footing for those who are hated like we were and are still. Some tolerance would mean worlds to lonely little boys sold into show business as I was - we deserve love, we deserve better. Perhaps the day fear and hate is conquered is far off, but I tire of this facade. I shall no longer behind it, this mask that covers my soul. They must see me for what and who I am, and they can make of it what they will.

If I do not see or hear from you again, I wish you to know how fondly I hold a place in my heart for our friendship, and for Madame Giry's. You two are rare treasures and I shall never forget either of you. Please take precise care of my opera house, and see that the managers get a proper welcome as I saw fit previously.

My fondest regards,
Erik

"Nadir?"
A feminine voice came from his doorway that he could not mistake as anyone else but Madame Giry. He glanced up with glistening eyes, clutching the paper with a heavy heart. It was lighter, however, somehow.

"Where did Erik go? He was not in his usual spot...and he left me this." she said softly, holding up a small white object. Right away, Nadir recognized it all too well as Erik's mask.

A gradual smile spread across the Persian's face, one of sadness but also one of happiness for his finally freed companion. He slowly handed the letter to her and took the mask, turning it over in his hands. When he looked up again, his eyes glowed with hope.

"He has finally found where he belongs, Madame. Erik has gone home."

~The End~


^_^

Awww no, it's over *cries* ah well... all good things must end, right? Anyway, here comes my long-promised detailed reply. I loved this little story so much, and now I can finally do it some justice.

That sentence cracked me up. You know what my imagination is like. Of mice and phantoms, remember? LOL. I found this just hilarious.

*sighs* ah yeah, it's hard to fight for something, but it's even harder to realize you can't win. This is a great line, you can see his eagerness and determination to make this right, yet you know he's doomed to fail.

Oh yes, they are. Especially when you've got this Oedipal complex going on *thwacks Christine, lol* Again, great line to show the desperation with which he tries to hold on, but it's in vain.

BAHAHAHAHAHA you know what, just as I quoted this line, I was listening to Madonna's Amerian Pie, and she was singing "Sigmund Freud, analyse this" *chuckles* But honestly, how's anyone supposed to understand Erik if he doesn't understand himself? Tricky situation, eh?

*sniffles* it's true. Do you know that in the book, she actually yells at him and tells him she wishes he'd die? So heartbreaking. I've often wondered what would have happened if Erik's mother had had a bigger heart and had sown him some love.

Oh man, this is priceless. There's a very similar sentence in Susan Kay's book, and it's so true! Fear is power, and power is all Erik has to compensate his face.

oh, so sad! and yet so moving. Names are important. They keep track of who you are, and they're gonna be with you even when no-one else isn't. They're gonna be written in someone's bible. They really make you who you are. so I guess it's astonishing to be called my your name. *hugs Erik*

awww *hands him a tissue, lol*

Yes they effing do. *grumbles* very wise line.

ditto, ditto, ditto!

As I said before, this was my favourite line of the story. So beautiful, and so true. The world would definitely be a better place if we all stuck with that.

*giggles* again, this made me laugh. It's still HIS opera house, eh? *chuckles*

*squeeeeeeeeeeeeee* this is beautiful! Extremely sweet and beautiful, and such an evil cliffhanger also. *hopes that he finds her, marries her and has loads of phantom babies, hehe*

Muhas :love: :love: :love: for your story, hon! Love it!

Aw, this was so beautiful! I love how kind Darshana was and also how wise. It was a nice twist how she, too, had a deformity that people in the world didn't always understand. It was a perfect way to bring her and Erik together. I am glad he remembered her and her message.

That was just lovely.

This story has been a treat to read. Your style flows so smoothly and I really felt for Erik in this story. Great job!