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Replaying Past	By : RubyNatulieLee Category: M through R > The Phantom of the Opera > Het Views: 7371 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own The Phantom of the Opera, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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[Disclaimer: I do not own or make any sort of money off of this based story. I only own the charaters of Esme Lonsdale, Eddy and his sister Crystal, The wig maker, Nicolas and the three boys from Sandor's gang. Everything else I do not own nor belong to me. ]

Lost...All is Lost.

Erik sat upon the wet stone step, which lingered by his rippling lake. It’s been three-months now, since the nightmare had been taken from the darkness section of his mind and placed before his very eyes. Christine, his only one. He believe she would take him in. Who would sing the songs he wrote to fill the emptiness within his heart with the warmth and love in which his own mother would not provide. She had left him and within the mist of his jealousy and anger, he had killed, he had frighten and he had chased his beloved Singer... Into the arms of Vicomte de Chagny...

Raoul....

That name, That name echoed in Eriks ears and he gave out a shout. Full of pain, filled with betrayal. That echoed off the stone walls. His voice fell silent.... Letting the only thing greeting him, the drips and drops of water, that seeped throu from the outside world. The world he so deeply wanted to reach with his own two hands, to teach with his songs... Only to be shunned by it by the way he looks, and outcast by the way he is. He knows no self-esteem, nor no human kindness, which this world had given. With a deep sigh Erik stood himself back up to his feet. His black trousers, hugging his muscular legs, a shash tied tightly about his hip, letting its trail brush along his left upper thigh. His white parted shirt with long sleeve cuffs, Shoved smoothly into his waistband, breathlessly caressing the tan flesh of Erik’s chest, hiding the power and beauty his own body held.

But his face did not.

Smoothing back his black hair, fixing the damnable white mask, he made his way out throu one of his mirrors. He needed to empty his thoughts from his mind; he wanted the nightmare that pleaded him to end.

~~~~~~~~~{@ Within the Streets of France @}~~~~~~~~~~~

The Streets before the Old Theater home, where the stories of 'The Phantom' was born and grew, lay quiet and still. After the mishap of the Chandelier, people seem to stop coming and the actors went away. But still, there it stands, in the mitts of glory that it once held, but lost within the nightmare of the truth. No one would dare go near it again.

But the upper class needed a place to go. To spend their money and rid themselves of boredness, that the Opera use to provide.

One night, a few days ago, a fair opened. Like many others in the past, it was a freak show. Storm clouds began to gather over head, showing signs of rain and thunder but still the fair went on. Children laughs and screamed at the sites of the 'Breaded Lady' or 'The living Mirmaid.' The Lower and Upper class mixed as they watched in amusement, of wondrous humankind.

The Snake Boy.

The Fused Twins.

The 'little' lady.

But the very last, was the one every Gentlemen and poor beggar wanted to see.

The Gypsy dancers.

A group of dancing girls, within clothing that did nothing to hide then it did to expose. With colorful straps of clothing, stunning jewels and laughing eyes. As their hips swayed, their legs kicked and their bellies dance. The men of this group would snapped their whips, making the girls dance more, to laugh out, drawing more attention from the costumes. And more coins. But like one night, like long ago.

Another escape.

The taps of raindrops began to fall from the cloud covered sky, as a figure moved quickly within the shadows, rushing threw the ally's upon the streets. The sounds of panting breath echoed, as patting of rushing feet could be hinted. Bells chimed in soft tune within the shadows of whom pressed closely to the corner of a brick wall. Eyes glancing out into the empty road. Showing no signs of life, but only the flickering light of flamed lap posts upon every edge.

Stepping into the light, as the rain fell. Esme stepped into the dim glow. With worried bright green eyes, that seems to scan from side to side with every passing second. Her hair, bright of golden red fire, piled on top of her head, with curls bouncing down along the back of her neck and shoulders, covered with pins of jewels and ruby's. A cloak, of black wool covered damp upon her shoulders, her face showing the skin of dark tan, showing how much she was within the burning sun. She moved across the rocky road, the cloak flapping open. Within, her outfit shimmered.

Her top of dim sliver color vest was small enough to hug only her swollen breasts and a small part of her back, barring her shoulders and upper skin of her breasts and cleavage, along with her flat stomach, showing small shapes of Abams. A jewel was nuzzled between her breasts, keeping her top together. But upon her arms, dark violent sleeve lingered; see threw, held on by sliver armbands that locked onto her upper arms. The cloth trailed down in lengths to her wrists, baring her palms and fingers. A skirt, also the same shade as the vest was short as well and hugged her small waist, big enough to cover the cloth she made, to cover the valley between her thighs, but short enough to bare her long slender legs to her slipper covered feet. A belt with sliver thorns looping around each other; latched tightly upon her hips. She had to take a shirt she found within a chest back in the sand hills, where she once lived. A chest her sisters had past down to her in which she ripped to strands, placing other shades of see threw purple upon the belt, letting them ripple down along her hips and thighs, down to her knees, giving her more of an enchanting look.

She was one of those Gypsy dancers, or was one for a few months now. But she was only protected by the harsh treatments of the others within the traveling band by her farther. He was the swordsman. His talent was throwing them about, swallowing them, fighting with them, and he was very good at what he did. And he abused his talnet but swearing to cut any mans member right off, if they dare touched his youngest daughter. Even the head master of the whole freak show did her fathers bidding...For now.

Mournful tears trailed down those cheeks of the innocent Gypsy. Her Father had died two nights ago, during one of his performances'. 'Clearly an accident' the headman did say to her, as she cried by her fathers’ bed, where he laid still and cold as ice. She knew that with all the love of her father, they had killed him. Some how, they had missed with his act and he was killed by it. She would have stayed and tried to find out why, but last night, while her and the other girls went to rest and eat. Esme ran across the headman's chat with the guards, who were placed to whip at the Gypsy's to give the show a more thrilling scene. They spoke of her father’s death and they spoke of her.

She panted, the cold wet air filling her lungs as she dashed. They had planned to take her tonight. To destroy the innocence she held so deeply. Rape her, beat her, and use her in the ways they wanted to for the past months. They wanted to make her scream, to cry out for her father, to beg them to stop. But they won’t have a chance. Packing her clothes and the jewels that belonged to her mother and one of her fathers swords. She ran. That’s all she could do. Run. But she stilled when she heard rushing feet not far behind, and the curses and shouts within the ally's walls.

'She must have gone this way!'

'How could you let her escape!'

'Shut up the both of you! Find her and bring her back!"

Grabbing her cloak tightly she ran on. But she heard one of the voices's boom, like the sound of thunder rolling over her head. 'There! I hear it! The damn belt! She's over here!" Esme whimpered out, the belt she wore held sliver little bells, that chimed with every movement she made. And so she ran faster, her lungs beginning to burn. She must hide. She must hide!

Turning one of the corners of the streets, she pressed her back against the damp wall. Where was she to go? She had never been in these kinds of towns before and she feared she would run into those monsters if she took a wrong turn. Tears fell faster and as she slide down the wall. She was doomed. She was giving up to easily, yes, but she was doomed when they find her! She sobbed quietly to herself, wishing her father were still alive to protect her like he said he would. But her sobbing did sub-sided, when she heard pounding steps of rushing feet come close. Fear grabbed her. She whimpered out and let out a fearful cry. She didn’t want to be caught, she didn’t want to be raped and beaten. She got upon her knees and her hands flew to the wall to help herself stand to her trembling legs. But her fingers touched a window, and the window suddenly jerked open, causing the scared lass to fall threw.

Pain struck her; soreness ripped her arms and shoulders. She had fallen threw an old window and hit the rock floor below. The blow didn't kill her; the drop wasn’t very far. But it did scrape her knuckles, arms and knees. And bruise her cheek from the bag she held so tightly. She couldn’t move for some times. But she was glad she didn’t. For the voices the men soon came and went, rushing passed the open window by a long shot. She waited in till the footsteps were gone and the pain she felt subsideded. With trembling hands and legs, she pushed herself up. Turning around slowly, pushing the window closed, as gentle and quietly as she could. In case they came back around.

She didn’t know how long she had sat. But the pain within her skin started to grow into a dull ache. With a twitch and a silent hiss, she pushed herself to stand to her trembling feet. Holding her bag tightly in her left arm and let her right gluiding along the wall, helping her form to stay up. Taking one step at a time, slow and steady she started to make her way down the tunnels. Forgetting that her father’s sword, that laid embrace in the shadows, under the closed window.

The tunnel was deep and she gazed at its stone wall. Where was she...? Where would she end up? Cobwebs lingered at the ceilings while dust rolled along the floor. It was like; no one has entered this place for years. But she walked on, questions in her mind. It wasn’t long before she found another window, in which it too was unlocked. Pushing it open, she saw it lead to a little room. Like a church. But mostly for praying. Two stands lingered before a fireplace, with already burned old candles resting upon it, with pictures of peoples faces under. A prayer for the dead. She twitched and slowly eased herself down upon a stone bench, her sore skinned knees making it harder to reach the ground.

Slowly she stepped within the middle of the small little room, turning her head from side to side. Her red curls, that was so neatly tucked and nestled upon her head, fallen and brushing along her small back to her rump. Where was she? She stared about before her eyes caught a set of circling stairs and another hall of tunnels. She frowned... But she was safe. And so, she quickly went into the tunnels, hiding herself deeper in the strange place she had fallen into.

~~~~~~~~{@

How long had she been wondering... She didn’t know. She was lost. Taking one path after another, she feared she would never find a way out and she just lead herself into a maze in which she most surly will die. After a few days of walking, and starving and what not.... A shiver shot down her spine. But she walked on. Hoping still, she could find a way out.

Time seem to pass so slowly for her. One Hour...Maybe two past since and her legs began to throb from her walking. But Right when she was about to call it quits and sit down and wait to die, she heard little sounds, .....water?

*Drip*

*Drip*

She frowned at the sounds. Was it raining outside still...Or was it something more? Pushing herself along the wall, helping her throbbing muscles go on; she listened and followed.

*Drip*

*Drip*

The simple sound started to turn into many. Ripples of water, tons of little drops seeping threw the stone ceiling, dropping from the ceiling to the ground. Her feet carried her down a pair of stone steps, that lead to where the sounds echoed from. And what she saw made her eyes widen in pure shock. Her lips part in awe. A Lake. A underground lake. This most truly is amazing! The lake seemed to stretch out wide, in till her eyes caught a soft dim light. Her eyes narrowed a little, trying to bring into focus of what it was. The light flickered in the distance, showing that someone was setting off a group of candles. She smiled a little. Perhaps there’s was someone who could help her!

Staring down into the dark water, she frowned at it. How deep was it? She was very sure... She wasn’t a very good swimmer. But there’s no better time to learn then now. Stepping to the last stone step, she stared down at the water below. Her heart raced. Was it really deep? She prayed it wasn’t. Settling herself upon the very edge, her slipper-covered feet slightly touching the water surface, her right hand tightly gripped the stone edge tightly. If it was truly deep, she could hang on, and just push herself from one pillar to another, since there seemed to be sets in a line towards the light. With one more pray and a deep breath, she pushed herself off.

And struck the shallow waters below. Her eyes did open when she felt the sudden stop, her hand upon the edge, catching her upper body before it too, was embrace within the cold liquid. Indeed cold! She shivered from it but it was better then going back. The water lingered waist deep on her. How lucky for her indeed. With a sigh of 'thanks', she pushed herself threw the water, holding her bag tightly in her arms, heading towards the glittering light.

This was the up most strangest thing she ever laid her eyes on. Upon making it to the light, she was stopped by a grand gate that seemed to hang right out from the rock ceiling above her head. She frowned at it. But it was up enough, for her to squeeze under, her bundle would get wet, but it was something she would risk. Taking a breath, she ducked into the water, her fingers pinching her nose close to keep her air inside. Quickly she pushed her feet on the ground to the other side, forcing her head back up threw the waters surface, taking a deep breath again. Shaking her head, her wet curls hanging loosely along her back, even floating a little within the water. She entered the candle lit room and stopped in shock.

Some one indeed was living here.

It was a small place, but it was used for its great measures. On the left side, a wall of drawings seem to hang, from where she was, it looked like drawings of girls. But also, a burnt up little theater rested before those drawings, which made her puzzle on the question, 'why did that get burnt?' But her eyes shifted to the right in which she found a very large organ. Slowly her body moved threw the water, in till she reached the solid ground of land. Placing her bang down at her feet, she made her way towards the organ. She never seen anything like these up close before... She smiled a little. How on earth did they ever get one down here? Her fingers traced the keyboards, picking up a wide collection of dust that seemed to gather upon it...She frowned... No one had played this instrument for weeks on end. Music sheet lay torn and ripped. Ink pens broken and Ink bottles shattered upon the ground, leaving its black blood, stained upon the surface. She suddenly got sad feeling about this place.

Turning her body, she found the one thing, her mind seem to snap suddenly and her body beg. A swan shape bed lingered overhead, up among the steps. Black lace drapes hanging around it... Her feet took one step after another towards it, taking one stone step after another. Red covers and satin sheets covered the mattress and the pillows piled on top of one and another. It seemed to inviting. Kneeling down, wincing from her skinned knees, she lifted the black lace drapes, letting herself move under it, letting it go to settle back on the ground. Her mind began to shut down and her body began to do the same thing as well. It was late. It had to be. But she begged her mind. The candles are still lit. The place might seem like no one had been here for years, but the candles are proof enough and she wouldn't like it if she came home and found some strange in your nicely made bed....

But she was so tired.... And the bed looked to tempting... And she 'did' have a rough night...

Slowly her hand pulled back the covers and let herself slip between its satin sheets, her head softly resting upon one of the pillows, her wet hair slowly drying, curling around her form. She would risk the anger of the strangers’ home... or even death. She just wanted this night to be over... She just wanted to sleep.

End of Part One
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Replaying Past