For ever yours

[Nicolas de Lenfent]

This is basically my first Fanfic. Since quite a while I had this idea and now finallyit starts to form a story in my mind. It will concern the Phantom of the Opera and Anne Rice Vampire Chronicles. I would not call it a cros over, as I know Anne Rice forbids fanfics and this story was basically just inspired by her books. Therefore I will not use her characters, but maybe only now and then mention them. I plan to develop the fanfic without being to cheesy and not too detailed inthings like love scenes and cruelties, though there will be a bit of blood (Vampires!) But I hope it can be read by almost all age groups. Please give me coments and ideas, critics, etc... And let me know, if I should go on writing. Chapter 2 is ready to be typed. But, please, be gentle.

I declare that unfortunatly most of the characters are not mine. Second I ask forgiveness for any mistakes, english is not my first language. And now, I hope you enjoy the story. I am still thinking about a title.

PROLOG

This is a story I have not yet told. A story that was never believed and hardly known.

It started long ago, long before the famous part of my life. Long before the legend of the Phantom of the Opera, long before I met the younger singer Christine.
This story involves a dark secrect and shows who I am.

Now finally, after years of secrecy, I hav enough courage to tell it. With these pages I follow the examples of others. The reason you ask?

Never did I think of it before, but today an old friend visited me and together we listened to the Arias of Marguerite, together we thought of old times and together we formed the desire to put my story into words. It was this friend who encourage me to go back to times, I sought to forget. But maybe I can explain my life, by explaining these strange happenings. This change in my life.

I will leave the present day of the year 2006 and reach back intime, almost 200 years ago.While upstairs people come and go and lives grow and pass, we are eternal and noone believes that the Opera Ghost stil resides in the vaults of the theatre. I do not want to say this is the story of my life, for I am not alive...



THE ENCOUNTER - CHAPTER I

It was a few years after my arival in Paris. The Opera was built and during the construction I built my own little realm underneath the theatre, in the cellars where I could live undisturbed by the world. Only a few people came dosn there and mostly itwas easy to drive them back to the upper world. A few simple tricks and the imagination of the people themselves did a proper job. they left me alone and I was in my own heaven. Finally, hidden from the world, but surrounded by music. And what music! Operas by Gounod, Mozart, and other classics. I listened to the performances and soon I knew the different voices and got to love or hate them.

My kingdom, for I felt as I king, arround the lake developed wonderful. I had 2 entrances, both very well guarded by the best alarm systhem I could build and only a few times I met a cursed soul, who had come too far and met the "pleasures" of my torture chamber, which was one of the entrances to my appartment.
Mostly it was too late to rescue the people and there was nothing else left to do, than to bring them upstairs and let them be found. Soon it was said those poor Stagehands or other workers died under mysterious circumstances and the mystery of the Opera Ghost was born. What a good chance for me to live in peace.

As always I loved to play the organ. Sometimes I did not stop for days, beeing totally caputred in the music. And when this happened, I was not aware of the world arround me. For sure the "ghostly music" was heard throughout the whole building. It was feared by all and especially the ballett girls with their chitchat did their own part. They told stories of his music and of the opera ghost, things that I never ever even thought to do.
First I was angry with them and to stop them from chatting, I played my evil jokes on them. But instead of stopping their talk, their imagination was fed by this and the gossip got more and more. After a while I found out, that it was good to be feared as the ghost. It scared people even more and kept them in the upper part of the building. Later I should even learn that this gossip was important, as it shoud change my life forever. - Forever! Would that I knew the meaning of this word in those days. But let me tell one thing after the other.

After a time the Opera Ghost was well established and, as I can proudly say, almost famous. I did not only get a salary, but also my own private box. It took a few more tricks and was ridiculously easy. From now on, there were no difficulties for me to not only listen to the operas, but also to watch them.

"Faust" was always one of my favoirts and I did not miss one performance. To all of you, who think of my later life, who know - or believe to know- what will happen later on, this was before "La Carlotta" and before my dear Christine.

Whenever the curtain rose and the lights dimmed, I was on my post in the box, which I heard was in the meantime also quite famous for beeing the box of the Phantom. A lot of people always looked up to glimpse the skull behind the curtain, but I assured that they only saw and heard what I wanted them to see or hear. I thought myself in security.

One evening I once again made my way up to my precious place. The usual looks took place, but finally the performance began. Imediatly I was captured by the music and lost myself in the arias. Marguerite turned her spinning wheel and Faust made his bargain with the devil. The music filled the room.
But there was also another sound. Something like a highpitched voice singing, just on the edge of human hearing. A voice like an angel. I was arroused, I was drawn to this voice. I longed to know where it came from, such imense beauty did it involve. Slowly I moved the curtain and carefuly looked arround the corner, almost loosing my guard. But fortunatly the audience did not take notice. It did not take notice of anything, but the performance on stage. But this sound did not come frome on stage. Nor from the auditorium. It was in my head. At least it seemed like that. My curiosity was awakend even more. No other human beeing than me was ever able to place his voice somewhere else with such perfection. I listened again and now I noticed that the voice sang along to the opera.
" Oui, c'est toi, je t'aime,
Oui, c'est toi, je t'aime,
Les fers, la mort même ne me fond plus peur!
Tu m'as retrouvée…
Ma voilà sauvée…
C'est toi, je suis sur ton cœur!"

I began to shake my head madly, this sound was close to driving me crazy. "Oui, c'est toi, je t'aime. I will wait for you, Erik."
I screamed and turned to run down to my shelter as fast as possible. I did not care how many people saw the "ghost" in the shadows this night, as I was too confused and totally caught by surprise. Someone knew my name!

[ivonnedeleen]

wow Nicolas, what a great start of your story

go on with it !

[Nicolas de Lenfent]

Thank you very much!

So here we go with first part of chapter 2:

CHAPTER II

Month after this strange occasion I was still thinking of that voice. Maybe it was my own iimagination, maybe it was my own mind playing atrick and I got insane because of the morphium, I thought. Nobody could ever know my name, nobody ever knew my name here in Paris.

I calmed down again, I played the organ, I composed, but never left my appartment. I hardly took any nurishment, who ever read the books about my life knows, that I don't need a lot. Wether meals nor sleep. I hardly ever left my music room. My coffin lay empty. Yes, my coffin. To some of you this might seem strange, but inspired by my ugly appearance and my head, which did not show more features than a skull I was often considered the devil and somehow I found it fitting to not sleep in a bed, but in a black coffin with red velvet. Since I left my mothers house in agony, I developed this obsession. And I thought it was perfect for a living corpse to sleep in a coffin. A living corpse as I have always been. But this story has been told before, by much better writers than me. Let me continue mine.

My coffin lay empty, as I said. Untouched, unused by me for weeks. Maybe it was exhaustion, or the morphium, or the lack of morphium, as I started to run out, but I started to see things, I started to habe hallucinations. Images, pictures of beauty and youth. I thought to see the picture of a young man with dark hair and a pale skin. Tall and slender with piercing beautiful eyes. If I would have a face! If I would have his face! I started to like this pretty invader. I grew to be obssessed by him, I got lonely when he was not there and wished for his company. I took more and more morphium to make sure of the hallucinations. I knew him not to be flesh and blood, but an imagination, a trick of mind, what else could he be. It was only once in a while that I saw him and always only a glimpse in the shadow. Always, appart from one time, when he lay in my coffin, sleeping, his tender arms crossed above his chest. This time he seemed so real, I thought I could touch him. But no, this was impossible, my alarm systhems would have sounded should any human beeing cross my boarder. This man was not real, but more a sign that I needed more morphium. Indeed it ran out and I was forced to leave my realm and enter the upper wolrd once more.

At this time I did not know, that both with or without morphium I was halucinting. That my human mind was observed by the drug with or wihout it. and how close I was to get insane.

When I returned and injected the next protion I expected to see my young invader again. I waited to see him again. But I waited in vain. He was gon. My mind was even more blurred, than ever before, as I took more and more morphium to force my pretty one back, but there was no chance. He was gone and even more I believed him to be a trick of my mind.

[Nicolas de Lenfent]

Chapter II/2

I lost the feeling for time and finaly, my blood pumping the morphium through my veins, I lost my sense completly and exhaustion made me sleep. I did not make it to my coffin, but lay on the floor beside the organ. My beautiful organ.

I must have slept for days. Enchanted by wonderful dreams, just as usual when I was under drug influence, but such a beauty, I had never known before. Full of atmosphere and music. What precious music that was! Played by enchanted hands. Floating, falling with sweet intoxication. Like poison it ran through my body and lifted my sol gently. My organ, it played by invisble force. On and on the notes floated through the room. High pitched, dark and enormous.

Slowly I opened my eyes, still humming along. And there he was again. Captured by the notes the notes he played himself. His eyes closed, his hands floating over the keys, barely touching them, as it seemed. His feet powerfully pumping the pipes. The whole image mysterious, like a ghost, he appeared. How strange, a real ghost, playing the organ of the Opera Ghost.

And then I recognised the music. It was mine. My music, that noone was to touch. My music, that noone was to hear. Angry I crawled to my feet and reached out for him. My hand touched his shouder slighlty and I lost concsiousness again. His starring eyes in front of my face faded and only half way I saw his tall figure beniding over me, when I hit the floor.

When I woke up a while later, I found everything untouched, unchanged. I was alone. My music score set on the pile beside the organ, the instrument itself silent, as if never played. Tenderly I brushed my fingers over the keys and smiled. “So you found your way even to my dreams.” I sat down and played.

[Nicolas de Lenfent]

Updated Chapter III.
I keep changing and updating old chapters as well, as the story develops further and further in my head. Update is in bold (I hope)

Chapter III – When night falls
I felt it was time for me to give up my solitude and participate in the upper world again. For the first time in my life I wanted to leave my loneliness. Loneliness, yes. I was never to admit it, but I missed my ghost. And I felt a feeling in my heart, that I did not know before… i despair /i
This evening another Gounod Opera was on the schedule “Romeo and Juliette”. A typical love story and unfortunately not as good composed as “Faust”, but never the less I was in my box. Or better said, I wanted to go to my box, but some unfortunate visitors where seated on my place. What fun to see them running out hysterical after “a voice foretold them unfortunate events”, as I heard them complain to the usher. Yes, the Opera Ghost was back.
The audience was drawn to the happenings on stage, where a singer with great effort tried to reach the high notes of Juliettes aria, but did not quite succeed. Pity, who was allowed to sing on stage! Suddenly I heard a familiar sound. A voice in the auditorium. I closed my eyes and followed the sound until I found the source.
He did not notice me, so caught was his eye by the performance. He did not see me, appearing behind the curtain, narrowing my eyes to take a closer look. My invader, my pretty, my i ghost /i sat there in the stalls. And he was real. As in my visions he was tall and slender, young with pale skin. And i real /i
I could not take my eyes off him and decided to follow him after the performance. I wanted to know who he was. I wanted to know how he had invaded my realm. How he passed by all my alarm systems and how he could dare to follow me and play my organ!
I was angry and hurt in my pride and ready to challenge him, whatever that meant.
When the curtain came down, I waited for him, in a corner outside the building, with good view to the main entrance. If he left the building, he had to take this way. The people passed by and finally even most of the staff was gone, but I did not see him. I was furious with myself, to have let him pass. The main gates were already closed and I ho other chance than using the small hidden side door, which was always open. Full of anger I drew the collar of my cloak up and pulled my hat right over the mask. Why did I let him disappear? Once again thoughts of doubt came to me. Doubts of his existence, but now I had seen him. Conscious and real. Not with drug influence. Real, as I hear him singing the first time. For now, I was sure it was him.
I reached the gate and closed it silently behind me. The dark corridors lay quiet. All staff had already left the house or gone to sleep. The Opera was empty, it was mine again.
How much I loved this building with its staircases, broad and narrow, the grinning gargoyles, the stone pillars and winding corridors. Not only the front, the public site, but more the background, the hidden places I loved. The secret rooms and places, where nobody ever came, unless sometimes, to be alone, or to hide a love affair.
There was one very special place to me, the roof top. I sighed at the sight of the many steps as they seemed more and more eternal for me with growing age, but once again I climbed my way up to Apollo’s lyre.
The air was fresh and a cool wind floated around the roofs. I took a deep breath and felt the chains breaking from my heart. The was a certain freedom here, above the city of Paris. I looked down on the houses. An undefined longing for this city filled me. It was as my heartbeat was reflected by the star shine. I was alone, I was free.
Slowly I loosened the strings of my mask and let it glide down my face. The stars shone on. They did not care about my skull. The shone for everyone, monster or man.
I looked down at this artefact of misery in my hands and frowned.
Often I had longed to have the chance of being pretty. I wanted to know the feeling of beauty. I wanted to be able to let the wind brush my face and feel sunshine on my skin. But nowhere than up here I could dare to show my face without the mask, feel fresh air on my skull and let loose of all strings.

I closed my eyes. The moonlight touched my lids gently and I leaned back on the cold stone. Up here I was no ghost, here I was a man. Small and unimportant in the universe, just the same as every one else.

There was a cool wind touching my cheekbones and I inhaled it with all my senses. Softly I started humming a song and slowly raised it to a louder level, until it started to float away into the night.

My thoughts flew apart. I cleared my head of all concerns of the day and wished to go on like this forever. Up here on the roof, with music and free of boundaries, free of myself, free of my mask. My mask… what would I give to be handsome.

After a long while, it was certainly a few hours, I dismounted from my seat beside Apollo’s lyre and turned to the staircase. My eyes, bewitched b a sudden bright shimmer of light, caught the glimpse of a figure. I stopped still.

“Who are you?” I asked enraged, while my fingers hastily put my mask to face. “What do you want?”
He stood in silence, only watching me. His eyes following my movements, but without any sign of fear. “Who are you?” I demanded again, this time enforcing my words by a few steps towards the figure. Still, there came no answer from him. Furious I flew at the man and both my hands gripped tight around his throat. “Let me tell you, that no one who ever saw my face, is to live on.” i” I know!” /i he smiled as he pulled my arms down.”I know, Erik!”

[ivonnedeleen]

I love the way your story is going on!

okay I don't want to disturb the reading chapter for chapter with my coments. Be sure I'm reading it.!

[Nicolas de Lenfent]

Thanks a lot! Feel free to coment, critizise, etc...

NEW: UPDATED CHAPTER III above!

[Nicolas de Lenfent]

Chapter IV- Enchantment

I stared at him. Not sure, if I was furious or shocked. My arms pushed against his, but did not have enough strength to reach his throat again. I was startled. His hands held my arms firmly and he smiled gently at me. Never before was I as helpless as now. Did I get weak? Did I nevermore have the strength to fight humans? I was the Phantom! The untouchable Opera Ghost! I was invincible! Feared by everybody and famous for my strength. And now this young man had no problems to hold me back.

I struggled to free my arms. I pushed him against the stonewall. I fought and fought, but all it took to weaken me, was the grip of his hands around my wrists. Over and over I yelled at him and demanded who he was and that - for his best - he shall leave me him peace. But nothing that I said seemed to threaten him. He moved his arms quicker than me and took my blows at his chest only with a mocking smile. He turned around and forced me against the stone figure of Apollo. With no escape visible to me, I finally gave in and decided to return his stare. My eyes fixed on his, silence surrounded us. The fight calmed down. The young man lowered his head. Taking a few steps back, he let go of my hands and stood motionless opposite me.

My wrists hurt and I massaged them to get the blood flooding back into my fingertips. I felt like a challenged beast. Drawn out of my hide away and exposed to an unknown enemy. I was hurt in my pride, and swore to kill him whenever I had the chance. But still, there was a fascination that I could not explain.

Without looking away, my opponent took a few steps further back. He moved with grace and elegance and most of all, soundless. I took the chance to use the new won space and explored his appearance. You have to know whom you are facing, if you want to win. And in my situation it was more than necessary. My delicate senses felt that I had to be most careful. My chances to win were dim and HE knew it, too.

A handsome face, most obvious and enviable. Too handsome, in my opinion. Too hurtful for me. Soft features, beautiful long hair, dark and thick. Almost too perfect. I tried not to show anything, but only seeing his appearance made me feel my ugliness. Why was the world so unjust? Still, they said I was gifted with a genius mind. But what does this help, if no one wants to see it?

And there they stood up on the roof of the Paris Opera house, the angel and the demon.

The silence between us grew almost unbearable. But I did not know a way to make him speak. Did I only want to know his reason, or did I miss the sound of his voice? I had to admit, that I could not tell.

I was fascinated by his eyes. They had an incredible depth. One look gave the feeling that they had seen centuries. Their bright shine gave the impression of wisdom and sadness. Like a mirror to an endless soul. A weird mixture of melancholy and sacrifice.

My anger changed to curiosity. There was not a single wrinkle on his face, but still I had the feeling, that he was an old man.

All by itself my hand reached out and gently touched his face, as if to feel that he was real. Beauty, unknown to me. Suddenly his eyes changed to a sad look and he turned his face before my fingers touched his skin. "You would not like, what you would feel, Erik." He said softly. "How do you know my name", I requested again. "There are a lot of things I know about you. Don't think your interest in knowledge is not sacrificed in mine. You have had my attention for a long time." He walked to the edge of the roof and looked down upon the city, while he spoke to me. Pensive, he leaned over the barrier and watched the darkness in silence. I could not take my eyes off him. This man had a mysterious air around him that kept me prisoner. Almost a bit inhuman.

"You don' know the meaning of your words, my friend." He said without turning. Gently his voice indicated a sad smile. Then shoved his head around and answered my unspoken question. "The mind gift is not the only power I have."

Now I was not only startled but also felt totally exposed. I faced a being that knew my name and read my mind as easy as an open book. No wonder he had found my hide away.

I fully turned around and tried to comfort me with his words. "Don't be afraid, Erik. You are a genius and I am tempted to safe your skills for eternity. A mind as brilliant as yours should not be wasted and your music shall live forever." I sensed a trap. A bargain that I might not be able to escape. "What do you want?" I hissed at him. "A stranger, following me, fighting me and not even polite enough to tell his name. Hiding behind a mysterious gift, but at last not more than a coward, I guess." Now it was my turn to smile sarcastic. But as it seemed I found a weak point. He straightened and his face grew serious "A coward, I may be. Impolite, possibly. But do not mess around with my powers. I am stronger than you suspect. My name is Laurent. I am a vampire."

"A vampire!" I repeated in a mocking whisper. He was joking, no doubt. And I had to admit that I found it ridiculously funny. That funny, that I even had to grin. On my travels through the world I heard a lot of stories, legends and myths of all different sorts. And I even met a lot of strange creatures, but never had I met somebody, who claimed to be a vampire yet.

I was getting weary of this talk. "Laurent, as this is as you call yourself, whatever your business is - leave me in peace." Still standing by the edge of the roof he did not move when I turned to leave. At least I did not see him move. Suddenly I felt an ice-cold grip on my wrist and a hand pulled my head back. Then there was darkness.

[ivonnedeleen]

*rises her hand a little bit* Nicolas? I'm still waiting!

[Nicolas de Lenfent]

I do appologize, I have not written another chapter yet. *Sorry*

[ivonnedeleen]

still nothing new?