The phantom or Erik lost everything he ever owned & loved♥ His Opera house, his ONLY home, & Christine (The Angel of Music also the love of his life). Erik flees farther into Paris where he can peacefully finish his composing his next big master pie...
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The clouds were unsettling, the wind howled as it blew hard against the trees. The air was crispy, and clear with a scent of wet cobblestone, and rain. The rain fell down to the ground, making the road soft and slippery.
A black hooded figure ran down the streets at night, escaping something, something horrible. His feet stomp on the ground which caused the puddles to splashed; the man turned his head to see if anyone was following him, but there was no one in sight, he began slowing his pace.
The man reached to a stone wall, leaned his back against it, and gasped a lung full of air. He breathed heavily. His legs began to shake, but there was no strength left in them so they gave out as he fell to his knees. He was still out of breath; there was no one around, all that he could do was cry softly to himself. Tears fell down like waterfalls, running down his cheek.
His emotions were running like a stampede of horses, but his one emotion was...emptiness, and abandons. A faint scream came from behind him. Turning his head around. In the distance was an orange glow, along with the smell of smoke, and burning wood. The Opera Populaire was on fire, burning to the ground.
"Oh, Lord...What have I done?...I lost the love of my life...I lost the game...I lost my Angel of Music...I even lost my own home...I lost everything..." The man thought to himself.
Once he felt the strength in his legs coming back he stood up, stared at the burning opera house, turned his back, and walked farther into Paris.
For what seemed like hours. The figure heard noises coming from the down the street with the light illuminating as misshaped figures were bouncing from the walls of the buildings. A mob. Frantically, the man ran over to an empty alleyway. Using the darkness to his advantage, the crowd of an angry mob ran past him, shouting, "Get the Phantom! He can't run forever!" They were right, he can't run forever. Sooner or later he would have to rest for the night. The cool air swept in from the North, blowing at the figure. Causing the figure to shiver.
Once the coast was clear, the man looked around to see if there anything until he came upon an inn. It wasn't fancy, but it was good enough to hide for the night and from the mob. Quietly, he ran to the building without being suspicious. He walked inside and saw an old man at the desk. "Bonne soirée, sir. How may I help you." The old man said with a crackly voice. The figure lowered his hood to cover his face from the eyes of the old man. Even though the old man had horrible eyesight, it still wasn't safe for the mysterious figure to reveal his true identity.
"I like a room for one...please," The man spoke with a soft whispered voice. The elderly gentleman opened the book, held out a pen.
"Please sign...your name sir..." He said. The figure took the pen, and sighed "Erik". After he was done, the old man got out of his chair. "Follow me..." Following the old man behind to a small room at the end of the dark empty hallway. "Here's...your room...sir. Profitez de vote séjour." Nodding his head, the old man walked back down the hallway, disappearing into the shadows.
Inside was a small single person bed, a nightstand that held a candle. The dim light gave out a small amount of light in the room which was perfect and felt like home. There was also a dresser with a bowl filled with water and a mirror. The room was small but comfortable.
As the got into his room, Erik walked over to the mirror, seeing his reflection. A black hooded cape still wore his half white mask. His raven black hair was all over the place in messy waves. Dark circles under his eyes, along with his red puffy eyes from so much crying. Erik was exhausted. Pealing off his clothes one by one till he was in a white button-up shirt and his black dress pants.
Plopping on the bed as his aching muscles began to relax. Erik stared up at the ceiling. His emotions, as well as his thought, was still running around crazy. His thought first came to Christine, and the decision she made back at the opera house. He closed his eyes trying to picture Christine one last time before he moves on with his life.
He pictured her dark curly hair, her brown eyes, her pink lips, and her beautiful talented voice...Well, he made her a famous sing if it won't for him and his late-night singing lessons Christine wouldn't have become an opera singer, and none of this wouldn't have happened if Raoul could just stay away from her. Snapped his eyes open, feeling hot tears running down his cheeks. Angrily whipping them away, slowly rose from the bed, walking over to the window, opening it to reveal the city or Paris. The cold breeze of winter blew into Erik's face, sending chills down his spine, and erasing his thoughts, but he still could not get Christine out of his mind.
Erik had to let her go, she made her choice. It was time to let Christine go. "But how could I forget her?" Erik thought to himself. Looking over at the moon. Wondering if she was thinking of him.
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On the other side of the city, in a huge mansion. A young woman was out on the balcony. Her curly brown hair blew in the wind. It was Christine. Christine could not sleep. Her mind and her aching heart were running wild. As she stared up at the moon, her mind went back to...him. Her Angel of Music. The way his voice was smooth as silk every time he sang, his black wave of hair was soft to the touch, his ice-cold blue eyes had a hint of gold gave her a pleasant shiver down her spine. Christine's heart raced, ever time she thought about him. But she needed to move on, but...how?
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