ERIK'S JOURNAL - SEQUEL TO THROUGH THE LOOKING GLASS

Oh, wow, I wonder what will happen now? I'm half expecting it to start talking to Doone any moment, with that glare...

I must say I'm glad that Raoul is ok again, I wonder if he will remember about the Spear and do something with it... Will he be able to??


Very very good chapter once again, my friend! Please do continue again soon...


D

Wow! This is as good as Through The Looking Glass. Sorry, let me introduce myself. I'm EriksComposer, a total POTO nutcase, and I love PhantomnessFay's posts. I think they are the best. Keep up the good work!

Slitherliggie as usual, good to see you and so happy you are enjoying the ride.

Welcome EriksComposer! What a pleasure to find another Phan. So happy you enjoyed Through the Looking Glass and this one.

Thank you to all for the kind words. You have both made my day.

Here is another chapter for your reading pleasure. Please R&R. Enjoy!

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CHAPTER 77

Hotel Lobby

An ominous hush fell over the hotel lobby. The concierge gently laid the rifle on the counter near the computer. Both employees and guests crouched down behind what furniture the bay hadn’t destroyed. Some huddled down behind the counter where the concierge and one of the clerks hid.

Inside the maids’ closet Raoul rummaged quietly for the Spear. With blazing orbs, Bayard, the enchanted horse, glared down at the helpless Opera Ghost that held his wounded bleeding shoulder. Each time Doone moved the horse moved. Obviously, it enjoyed taunting and toying with its prey before the kill. Presently, Bayard appeared to be corporal with black smoke streaming from its nostrils. At the moment, most feared the beast could spit fire and destroy them all.

Once Raoul found the Spear, he grabbed it quickly, but trying to get it to Phantom Doone seemed nearly impossible. Each time he poked his head out of the doorway the bay charged, forcing le Vicomte further back into the closet. Apparently, the beast wanted Doone’s blood quite badly.

After turning back to the wounded Phantom, the horse reared up on its hind legs and came down hard on the floor just as Doone rolled out of harms way. A large crack in the floor tile appeared where Doone had laid.

Again the beast whinnied and whinnied, rearing up only to come down hard, so hard that it now completely destroyed the floor tiles. More black smoke streamed from its nostrils. The fiery eyes sent a chill though all that beheld it. The wounded Opera Ghost rolled and rolled until he bumped into a nearby wall. This time he found himself cornered with no way out. If he had planned to throw the beast to the ground he had better do it now. This might be the only chance he’d get. Each time he moved, the bullet sank deeper and deeper into his shoulder. Blood flowed profusely and the pain increased. Phantom Doone’s mind began to swim and his vision blurred. Somehow the horse knew its victim would fade quickly without medical care.

At one point, poor Doone tried to adjust his stance, but fearing the man would try to force it to the ground, Bayard reared up so quickly that the move came as a surprise and kicked the man so fast and hard that it sent him sprawling into the wall across the room.

Le Vicomte de Chagny witnessed the entire horrible event. This time the reigning Phantom lay face down on the broken tile, unconscious, and bleeding out. If Raoul didn’t do something quickly, his friend would expire in a few minutes.

Again Raoul peered out from the ragged splitters of wood that used to be the closet door and frame. This time Bayard had its rear to him and full attention on the unconscious man before it. With Spear in hand, Raoul slipped out of the closet and crept toward the horse and his wounded friend. As he drew closer, his heart sank when he saw how much blood covered the cracked floor.

Cautiously he looked around the broken lobby. All the windows lay in a shattered mess while the remnant of furniture stood in mangled heaps about the area. From behind the scarred check-in counter he could see the concierge peering over it and then quickly ducking down out of harms way. With the stealth and agility of a cat, le Vicomte crept to the check-in counter and confronted the concierge.

“I am going to try to reach my friend. But I need you to attract the attention of the beast when I give a nod of my head. Can you do that for me?” asked Raoul quietly.

Without a word, the concierge nodded his salt and pepper head as Raoul moved back to where the bay and Doone were. Here, he slipped behind a pile of debris that was once a round sofa. Looking back at the check-in desk, he gave a nod to the concierge peering over the counter.

Suddenly shouts erupted from behind the desk. The horse jerked its head toward the noise, but it seemed to come from everywhere. As soon as the creature moved away from the dying man, Raoul moved to his friend and turned him over.

Blood covered Doone, the broken tiles and now Raoul’s T-shirt and jeans. The weakened man forced his eyes open, to see his friend once more.

“I’m…I’m sorry about Christine. Never meant to hurt you…” the failing Opera Ghost struggled to breath and then began coughing up blood.

With the Spear of Destiny in hand, le Vicomte commanded it to heal and then placed it across the wounded man. As if it had eyes in the back of its head, the horse turned with a jerk and charged the two men even as the Spear glowed with increased brightness.

Like a steak of lightening, the bay rear up and kicked poor Raoul winding. He didn’t stop sailing through the air until he hit the wall on the other side of the lobby.

By now, Phantom Doone had healed. With the Spear at the ready he stood defiant, glaring at the enchanted beast. With blood soaked clothes, the dear man looked like the spirit of a dead soldier lingering in morality to wreak vengeance.

As always Fay, a true piece of art. Are you an author?

From the faithful POTO phan, EriksComposer

Brilliant! Doone is healed, Raoul is healed, and Doone has the spear in hand... Is victory around the corner, or will another loop be added to the ride? The suspense is killing me, lol!

Very good piece of writing my friend, I am enthralled.



D

Thank you to both Slitherliggie and EriksComposer. So happy you are enjoying the ride. The next chapters will wrap up the story and hopefully answer all of your questions. Yes, sad but true, Erik's Journal is coming to an end.

However, for you reading pleasure I give you Chapter 78. Please R&R. Enjoy!

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CHAPTER 78

Hotel Lobby

Bayard the magic horse defied Phantom Doone amid the debris of the hotel lobby. Blazing eyes and streams of black smoke from its nostrils sent a shiver through all that beheld it. The beast not only seemed to understand what the humans said, but what they thought. The smell of fear refreshed and energized, but the confidence of a victory not yet achieved challenged and aggravated the bay. For a moment it pawed the ground like a mad bull preparing to charge.

Across the room Raoul le Vicomte de Chagny stirred amid the debris and scrambled to get up. Not only did his head pound with pain, but also every inch of him screamed. The human body did not respond well to being dashed against a wall. From the corner of his eye he watched the figure of a man materialize. When he turned, he saw Erik, the original Phantom of the Opera, insane as ever, still dressed in the robes of an Egyptian pharaoh, the Staff of Osiris held tightly in his grasp. At the moment he did not see Raoul, but had his full attention on Doone in his tattered, bloodied Victorian suite from the 19th Century. The glint of the Spear of Destiny flashed in the death grip of Doone’s hand. This Pharaoh Erik must possess. Without a doubt no one would ever defeat him or surpass his powers. He and he alone would be indestructible, omnipotent and omniscient.

The horse prepared to charge its opponent, but hesitated a moment when it spied the man dressed as a pharaoh. It whinnied and snorted as if agitated by the newcomer. Then without notice it charged Phantom Doone. Holding out the spear with both hands, Doone planted both feet solidly on the floor, or rather what was left of the floor and braced himself for the impact. As soon as he felt pressure from the horse’s breast against the flat of the Spear, his knees bent and using the weight of the horse against itself, Phantom Doone guided the bay over his head and sent it crashing to the remnant of the tiled floor.

An unearthly scream issued from the horse as it cracked the tile with its body weight. With the breath knocked out it, the horse struggled for air as the eyes went back to normal and the nostrils no longer expelled smoke. Its feet and legs flailed franticly and then suddenly it pulled itself to its feet.

Quietly, gently, Phantom Doone moved to the horse. “That’s a good boy. No one wants to hurt you,” he gingerly stroked the horse’s nose and then its mane. The enchantment broken, Bayard would now obey his master’s command. Seeing this, Raoul wanted so much to alert everyone to Pharaoh Erik’s presence, but feared Erik would kill him for his efforts. Therefore, he decided to lie back down and play possum.

Just as the hotel employees and guests breath a sigh of relief, they heard a solitary person clapping as if in mockery of the dangerous and heroic deed.

Pharaoh Erik moved slowly and deliberately as he continued clapping. “Excellent! Excellent! Well done my friend.”

At the sound of his voice, all eyes turned to Erik. Doone eyed him carefully as he moved closer.

“ I would have thought Bayard would have ground you and le Vicomte into the ground. You both amaze me. And now for your next conquest,” but Erik’s voice trailed as Doone ignored him and mounted the horse. Quietly but quickly, he maneuvered the animal toward where Raoul lay. Without hesitate, Raoul jumped up and mounted the horse, and off they sped out the broken window.

Angry at the escape, Pharaoh Erik raised both hands to the heavens. Lightening came down and struck the Staff. Now it began humming and pulsating with an eerie red glow. With all his anger and might, the Pharaoh/god pointed the Staff all around bringing the entire building to the ground. No one said a word. Some fled in silence while others stayed hidden.

With a feral scream of fury, Erik spun about like a whirling dervish until nothing of him remained.


Normandy, France

On the shores of Normandy, as the last ray of sun died. Bayard appeared with Phantom Doone and Raoul on its back. After the two dismounted, Doone began to summon the ghost. “Several questions must we ask of thee. Answers lie where we cannot see. An offering is at your request. To grant it we’ll do our best. Come madam we summon thee, La Dame, La Dame d’Apringy.”

Above them, a misty form began to take shape and soon the figure of a woman took form. Empty, hollows looked right through them. “Why hast thou summoned me,” the raspy voice asked sending chills up and down their spines.

“Madam, you asked for Bayard, the magic horse, in payment for answering our questions. We have brought you the horse. Once you have answered our questions we will present it to you.” Doone tried to keep his composure and not allow his teeth to chatter and his knees to knock. However, poor Raoul could not keep from trembling at the sight and sound of La Dame d’Apringy, the Lady in White.

When the eyes of the horse met the hollows of the ghost’s, it balked and whinnied at the terrifying sight. The two men tried to calm it, but this proved not an easy task. After a few minutes, Raoul had to take a strip of his torn shirt and use it as a blindfold for the horse. Even though it could sense the spectre, it calmed down, since seeing it deemed even more frightful.

“Mae is yet alive in the protection of a weakened god. If you do not defeat her husband, she will die, as will you all. He found you once, and again once more. The next time his essence you must push through the door. Only a mirror, or maybe a pond, will make the opening to act upon. Beware of what’s on the other side, or with me you will reside.” At this the old misty shade cackled like a witch, and mounted Bayard, that now balked and whinnied as if it would scream its lungs out.

“Wait!” cried Raoul, but the wispy old spectre only cackled and kicked the horse with ghostly feet and sent the blindfold flying off into the ocean, then she and Bayard shot out into the black void of night.

What, coming to an end? Nooo! I like it too much! I don't like what La Dame d'Apringy was saying. It seemed as if she meant that they had to kill Erik. I know at the moment he's a meglomaniacal nutcase with god powers, but deep down I know's he's the Phantom we all know and love!

Please continue ASAP!

Bye!

Wow! Very intense installment once again. Alas, all good things must come to an end, I enjoyed the story so much, it was even better than Through the Looking Glass. I look forward to the final chapters that are to follow.

Erik must be defeated, I understand and agree, however, I do not believe true death will be his soon. He and Mae has many things to straighten out first...

Please do continue soon, my friend!



D

I am happy to see you both Slitterliggie and EriksComposer. Thank you for your loyalty and kind words. You've made my day.

All good things must come to an end. This way I will be able to give you new adventure. Please don't say good-bye to this one yet.

Here is the next chapter. Please R&R. Enjoy!

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CHAPTER 79

Quaint Little Sidewalk Café, Paris

Nothing said unhappy like two sad faces at a little sidewalk café in the middle of the day not far from the Eiffel Tower. Raoul le Vicomte de Chagny and Phantom Doone sat sipping tea and munching a small plate of assorted pastries. After a shower and a change of clothes, both felt refreshed but puzzled and upset by the Lady in White. Riddles from creepy spectres, never good.

Raoul scrawled the riddle on a napkin; Mae is yet alive in the protection of a weakened god. If you do not defeat her husband, she will die, as will you all. He found you once, and again once more. The next time his essence you must push through the door. Only a mirror, or maybe a pond, will make the opening to act upon. Beware of what’s on the other side, or with me you will reside.

As Raoul wrote, Doone thought out loud, not seeing the two men walking up behind him. “I think Hathor is the weakened god keeping Mae alive. Her husband is Erik for sure.”

“I believe you are correct, but what about the rest of the riddle. He found you once and again once more. The next time his essence you must push through the door. What does that mean?” Le Vicomte tapped his pen on the table.

“There are several different things La Dame has told us. Some are not in riddle and some are. Erik’s essence is his true self. The real Erik is good and loves his wife. We have to separate the true Erik from the one created by a lust for power.” Doone finished his tea and pushed the cup and saucer aside.

“The door made from a mirror or pond has to be a portal or vortex, right?”

“Yes, but we must take care not to use one created by incantations that open up in mid-air or openings in walls or floors,” added Doone.

“Why?”

“They lead to places you don’t want to know.”

“And what does the ghost mean, beware of what’s on the other side, or with me you will reside?” Raoul scratched his head in thought.

“Remember some of the things that lurk in the ‘in between’ and other dimensions are not very friendly.”

“You make it all sound so simple,” signed le Vicomte. “So you have it all figured out?

Phantom Doone frowned. By now the two men stood fairly close behind. “Is Hamilton and my brother Philippe behind me?”

With a droll smile le Vicomte nodded. Without turning around Doone addressed the men.

Hamilton laughed and slid into his signature grin and asked, “How’d you know it was us?’

“One of the many characteristics of a ghost,” came the reply. This time Doone turned around to lock eyes with the men. “I hope you got an ear full, because that’s all you will get.”

“No worries mon frère. We only came to offer our help. If you do not wish it, then we will go away and wait for you to come to us,” Philippe smiled and tried to pull out a chair, but Doone stopped it with his foot.

“I trust you less than I do Hamilton. Don’t make me use the Lasso,” said the current Opera Ghost with a deadpan look. Not one emotion seeped through his countenance. The coldness of his eyes sent a shiver down Philippe’s spine. In his heart, he knew this man was not the true Phantom of the Opera, but he dare not question or even speculate. The feeling of the Lasso tightening around his neck lived forever in his mind, as did the panicked fear of choking to death, fighting for life, for breath…Philippe backed away slowly.

“Why don’t you explain to Raoul how you found us?” taunted the current Phantom. Hamilton kept his grin, but also backed away slowly. Having someone guess your plans, might be coincidental, however, this seemed down right creepy. Both men bowed and muttered some rushed words of parting then quickly turned on their heels and left.

“I like Hamilton more than Philippe, but you were pretty cruel to both. Maybe…”

Doone slammed his fist down on the table so hard; he made a distinct crack in its thick glass as he rattled the plates and teacups. “ I have no time for childish games. Philippe wants power. He will do anything to get it. Have you forgotten that he ordered your torture and possible death?”

A hurt look appeared on the young Vicomte’s face. Priding himself as being a good judge of character now shattered at the Phantom’s harsh reprimand. This time, Doone took no pity on him. He’d have to do what he knew was right.

The glint of the poison tipped rose tiepin caught his eye. “Grant me a final request. The next time I’m dying let me go. The tip of this rose tiepin is deadly. Take care in removing it from the tiny holder and pierce my flesh. It will be quick and merciful.”

“I will not!” retorted Raoul. “I will not kill my friend. You and I have been through a lot. We’ve traveled dimensions and time, alone and together. We’ve both loved the same woman and we’ve fought each, but yet we’ve become the best of friends. Ask me to jump off the bridge. Ask me to fling myself into the briny sea foam, but do not ask me to kill you. In all my life, never have I ever had a truer friend,” and with that, le Vicomte stood up quickly, excused himself and walked away with a tear in his eye.

For a moment, this dumbfounded the current Phantom. Generally no one ever lashed out at him when he gave his serious face and ominous requests.


The mystical realm of Pharaoh’s Court lay deep in the heart of a dimension just on the border of where Deity abode. Heaven in the believe of the general Christen, Mount Olympus to the ancient Greeks, Asgard to the Norse or whatever one chooses, Pharaoh’s Court set right on its border. Since the usurp of power from most of the lesser know deities from Mount Olympus, Erik, the pharaoh/god grew with immense power. Even Zeus and Odin feared the worst as their brethren and sisters turned into mere mortals.

For now, the lovely, mortal body of Mae lay in the safe keeping of Hathor. The goddess kept the soul and spirit in a cedar chest embedded with bronze strips and a bronze lock. Only the goddess herself could open the box, unless someone or something managed to overcome her, in which case, releasing Mae’s soul and spirit. Without special direction they’d soar straight to those pearly gates and cause her body to cease functioning.

Even in his madness, Erik always had Mae in his mind. They say love and hate are very similar. Both are deep, intense and all consuming.

Arrayed in his robes of the deepest purple, and the ureus headdress upon his head, the pharaoh/god looked into the depths of the pond for any trace of his beloved wife. Knowing he drained her body of life, something inside still told him she yet lived. The body had vanished. What sorcery did this? Phantom Doone? Raoul, le Vicomte de Chagny?

Disrupting the pond with his hand he stared out over his vast kingdom and vowed with a powerful determination, “Now it shall be war upon you both.”

Once again, this is really very good. I like the use of the line at the end. I can't read the line without thinking of Ramin screaming it in the 25th anniversary performance. I'm eargerly awating this. Bye!

from the POTO headcase and LND fanatic,
EriksComposer

Awesome! I also enjoyed your use of that line at the end. I'm just sad I don't have such a wide spectrum of reference to the musical, I could only hear Gerry from the movie...

However, this story stays as brilliant as the very first chapter! You never cease to amaze me, my friend.


Please do continue soon

D

Wow!

I missed out a lot!

Hello!!!! I am back into the Phantom mood!!!!

I know that it has been awhile since I last reviewed your story...

It's getting more intense and fiery!!!!

Love it!

S

Hello to Slitherliggie and EriksComposer and syoonchannel! Good to see all of you. Happy you are enjoying the ride.

Yes, syoonchannel, you have missed a lot. Try to stay tuned for the next few weeks as I am winding up the story.

Now the next chapter. Please R&R. Enjoy!

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CHAPTER 80

Tuilleries Garden, Paris



Created by Catherine de Medicis in 1564 as the garden of the Tuilleries Palace, the famed Tuilleries garden was located between the Louvre Museum and La Place de la Concord. Here Phantom Doone sat with his eyes closed amid the beauty of the fragrant blooming flowers and lush green of the leafy trees. A number of sculptures dotted the gardens, some depicting ancient Greek deities and creatures of that time.

Raoul le Vicomte de Chagny sat in the shade of one of the lacey green trees several meters away from his friend. He didn’t want to disturb Doone’s meditation. As le Vicomte looked at the surrounding beauty, he still could not keep his mind off of the impending battle that would soon take place or the death wish his friend sought of him.

So many things clouded his mind, the search for the Spear of Destiny, the Minotaur, Anubis, Hathor, Skadi, the ghosts, Bayard the magic horse and poor, mad Erik who considered himself a pharaoh/god. Lastly, his thoughts fell to Mae, the beautiful young creature in love with the true Opera Ghost but married to a madman. Her existence between life and death puzzled, if not worried him. How could anyone survive such a life? A tear came to his eye and he took a deep breath.

As he thumbed through the journal, his heart sank at the account of the final hours before the battle. Doone refused to read anymore and said, “What’s going to happen is going to happen. I don’t want to change anything.”

According to the last entry, the only way to acquire the Staff of Osiris was to kill whoever possessed it. The same with the Spear of Destiny, blood must spill before the new owner could take possession. Even if Erik handed over the Staff or if Doone gave up the Spear, one or the other would have to die.

As Raoul reached the last page of the journal, he found it incomplete. Since it magically fused the water worn copy with the copy Doone was writing in, it should be whole, yet it wasn’t. Details of the battle and the outcome he could not find. The account ended with a mortally wounded Doone about to end a weakened man with godlike powers.

A quick glance in his friend’s direction assured him that Doone rested in deep meditation, perhaps on a higher plane of existence. Would he know the reason the entry appeared unfinished?

Nothing mentioned whether or not Mae’s spirit returned to her body. Nothing said what became of him, le Vicomte de Chagny, a man with an unfaithful wife, who traveled through time and space…walking through dimensions in search of a better life and an adventure.

But did all have to end in death? Life, such a fragile thing. We fight for it, we try to improve it, but in the end, many merely throw it away. They say death begins new life, but does it really?

A rustling sound alerted Raoul that his friend now arose from the bench and took a moment to look around.



A faint whisper tickled his ear. The soft whisper of a woman’s voice. Phantom Doone jerked his head about searching for the origin of the whisper. He bowed his head to Raoul, who returned the nod. They both heard it.

As Doone approached le Vicomte, the voice breathe out a soothing promise. “I am here if you need me.” This time Doone knew the voice did not belong to Hathor. But who?

“I’ve heard that voice before, but where?” puzzled the current Opera Ghost. Raoul shrugged and shook his head.

“You made it clear that you would no longer read or write in your journal, but I must tell you the last entry appears incomplete. There is no resolve and no victor. Can you explain?” Raoul asked, waving the journal in his friend’s face.

“Not exactly. I really don’t remember,” replied the current Phantom with a tremor in his voice.

“Are you afraid?”

“Of Erik or dying?” Doone looked away.

“Both. You realize that you will have to kill him to acquire the Staff, don’t you?”

No reply.

“Should you succeed in possessing the Staff, then what? Remember the two are too powerful for one person to have…” Raoul’s voice trailed. What will happen if Doone ends up with the Staff and the Spear? What then?

To this Doone said nothing. In his mind no one should possess either object, let alone both. Absent mindedly, he and Raoul began walking out across the gardens in silent contemplation, unaware of passing the sculpture of Hermes/Mercury riding Pegasus. The stone eyes of both the messenger of the gods and the winged horse followed them like a cat stalking its prey.

Wahey! Another great part. I can't wait for the next bit! (bounces up and down on stool in anticipation.)

Oh, this is really getting all the better, I can't wait to see what happens next. You have got me speechless, my friend.


Please do continue again soon....



D

Thank you to EriksComposer and Slitherliggie for you kind words and loyalty.

I apologize for the late post. Life keeps me hopping.


For your reading pleasure I post the next chapter. Please R&R. Enjoy!


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CHAPTER 81

Paris, France 5, June 2007

Feels like eons since my last entry. The adventure has been quiet an experience, but very taxing on the nerves. I believe between the two of us, Raoul le Vicomte de Chagny and me; we have both come close to meeting our maker more than once. After such a life changing experience and facing true demons from the depth of hell fire, I no longer wish to leave this life. Too often we take for granted the clear blue skies, the bright sunshine and singing birds. Carelessly we use phases such as, “I wish I were dead, or if this happens or that I will kill myself.” Do we really fathom the reality of what we say? Do we really want to die?

Like most men of the late 19th Century or perhaps any period of time, I grew extremely depressed with my life as Doone, a 20th Century valley boy living in Los Angeles, California. My father grew weary of my laziness and lack of interest in school and life in general, yet he knew of no way to help but to threaten expulsion from the house if I didn’t acquire a position and/or go to college. What was there to live for? I had no goals in life but music and Mae, my beloved Mae.

Even my beautiful Mae, never looked at me as anything but a friend. The kiss of death, to have the woman you love say she wants to be friends. Oh the agony of it all! My heart sank and I felt like dying to see her with him the true Opera Ghost. Was this what she wanted? A shadow creeping about in dark corners, entering and leaving through trapdoors and hidden passages in the walls? What attracted her? The mask? Or life in the middle pits of hell five cellars beneath the opera house?

Whatever it was, I wanted it, to be the misbegotten creature that held her attention and won her love. Yet, when I became him, Mae still chose Erik. Why? At that point, I could do everything he could do. I even learned to kill with the Punjab Lasso in hopes that she would love me as she loved him, but no…no to her I was no more than a friend. A FRIEND! Mon Dieu! Un ami! Why? Why?

In all I did in the 19th Century as the Opera Ghost, Christine teased me, led me on, making me believe she loved me, and only me. Yet, never would she denounce the boy that blasted fop I now call friend. Again I wanted to die. Why not? The son Christine bore me never called me father, not to my face anyway. Le Vicomte was father, yes; again, I have lost all. Doomed to live the life of a deranged recluse, never to know the meaning of love or true happiness. Indeed I have become poor unhappy Erik!

However, after facing Anubis, Cerberus, the Minotaur, the Lady in White and Bayard the enchanted horse that nearly sent me to my grave, I no longer have a death wish. I now move forward to search and rescue and not an excuse to die.

Each time I’ve been mortally wounded, my life did not flash before my eyes, but rather the evil that awaits the person who would take their own life. In the past I cared not for Deity or words from the Good Book, but for some strange reason, it all makes perfect sense. I should want to live. And I do. I will. I have been given the Lance of Longinus, the Spear of Destiny to keep it from falling into the hands of evil and at the moment the original Phantom of the Opera is the epitome of pure evil; an evil that I alone must defeat. Instead of going to my demise, I move toward victory. For with the Lance I cannot lose. And somewhere, somehow love and happiness will come to me in this life, this frail life I now desperately cling to.

I am assuming Doone intends to kill Erik then... Would be a sad day, however I do understand his reasoning. We will have to see whats going to happen in the next installment.

Very insightful chapter, my friend. Good luck with life and its moodswings And please do continue soon...



Lots of love
D

Thank you Slytherliggie. You made my day with you kind words.

What happened to everybody? Spring break? Oh well, here is the next chapter.

Please R&R. Enjoy!


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CHAPTER 82

Tuilleries Garden, Paris

The sculpture of Hermes/Mercury riding Pegasus morphed into flesh and bone as Phantom Doone and Raoul moved a way. But just as they stepped down from the pedestal a whirlwind spun about them that immediately turned into Pharaoh/Erik the madman with god-like powers. Startled, Hermes gasped and jumped back as the winged horse whinnied and balked. Erik grinned like an imp as he vanished taking the messenger of the gods and Pegasus with him.

The Mystical Realm of Pharaoh/Erik

In pharaoh’s palace Erik materialized with the messenger/god and winged horse. Hermes stood startled and speechless. The horse tried to fly away, but Erik ticked a steely glare at the beast compelling it to obey. Instantly, it fell silent and docile, ready for its master’s command.

Circling the messenger of the gods, Pharaoh Erik bade him to sit down. “You are my guest, Hermes or do you prefer Mercury?” he grinned as he ordered a servant to bring them wine and cheese.

Suspicious and a little uneasy, the messenger/god replied, “Hermes will do. Why have you brought us here?”

The servant returned with wine and cheese on a silver platter and set it before them on a small nearby table. Erik waved the servant away and with a small gesture the decanter of wine poured itself into goblets. Out of politeness and fear, Hermes picked up one of the goblets of wine. Erik motioned for the other goblet and it rose into the air and floated to him. Then he proposed a toast. Hermes hesitated.

“A toast to our alliance. You and I shall work wonderfully together. As long as you do as I ask you shall retain your powers. Refuse, and I will drain you dry.” With a smug nod, Erik lifted his goblet and took a sip.

“You want me to work with you? You intend to kill for the Lance of Longinus, don’t you?” The messenger/god took a large gulp of wine.

“That goes without saying. My only concern is finding my wife’s body. Somehow she is still alive and this is a problem to my plan. Unless she is compelled or dead I shall never attain victory.” Erik sipped his wine and sat on a lavishly ornate throne sitting off from Hermes on a high platform. He wanted to be sure he looked down on those with powers less then his.

“What do wish of me?”

“Find Mae. You will know whether or not she can be compelled. If she cannot then bring her to me for destruction.”

“But my lord, do you not love her?” inquired the grieved messenger/god.

“I love no one. Love has no place in my plans or the life of a pharaoh/god. Do you find this disturbing? Why should I love when I can do what I want? I am unstoppable!” finished Erik who then broke into loud, maniacal laughter.

“Besides, love is a weakness. Ask Zeus and Odin. They will testify to that. Without love, I will attain more power than one could ever image. Love brings compromise, and guilt. I need not compromise when I am all-powerful. I feel no guilt for I have done nothing wrong.” Erik sipped his wine and gripped the staff in the other.

Hermes took note of the Staff of Osiris and shuddered. Even his caduceus trembled at the thought.

“You think me quite evil, don’t you Hermes? Mankind is better off without love.”

“My Lord, do you not believe in compassion and mercy?”

“Why should I? All of these are weaknesses. I shall have none of that.”

“And no conscience in killing a friend?” Hermes sat the goblet down and looked the pharaoh/god in the eye. Not even Zeus exhibited such madness.

For a moment, Erik fell silent. The word “friend” struck him hard. Doone had taken his place as the Opera Ghost only to suffer the humiliation and indignation that came with the title and territory. No one would know this any better than he. The young man had given up his life in the 21st Century to assume his miserable one, to live in darkness like unto that fiery inferno the Bible spoke out against.

But then, he didn’t believe in the Bible, or any other deity but himself. When one possesses ultimate power he can destroy or create what he wishes. The Staff hummed and vibrated power in Erik’s hand. The current coursed through his body and all feelings for friends or wife drained away.

“Do not question me so, my dear Hermes. I do you a great honor in allowing you to live, let alone retain your powers. Take Pegasus and find Mae. If she is indeed dead, then bring me her head.” Erik finished with a nonchalant air about him.

Appalled at the order, the messenger of the gods bowed and moved to his winged horse.

“If I do not hear from you in two days time, I will drain you dry and take Pegasus for myself.” Hermes did not reply. After mounting the winged steed he bowed graciously and then the two took off through the air.

Such orders he knew he could not refuse, but did he have to obey? Such cold-hearted madness he had never before witnessed. Even Hades would refuse this thing entrance into the Underworld.

From the grounds of the Mystical Realm Erik watched Pegasus and rider disappear into the clear, blue sky. Somewhere in his black heart, he still loved and missed his wife. Everything he ever knew or felt seemed oddly twisted.

The Staff still hummed and vibrated in his hand. The current coursing through his body filled him with a thirst for blood. Once again his eyes flamed with an unholy light and the impish grin washed over his face.

Suddenly, four Egyptian soldiers dragged in two Norse deities, Ullr and Váli. Both men stood tall and stocky, faces of beard and clothes of animal skins fashioned into to heavy coats with hoods and boots with great insulation. The burly gods did not like be dragged into enemy territory. The scow on their faces attested to that.

After circling the men three times, Erik held the Staff out toward them and cried aloud in the ancient tongue of Osiris, Isis, and Thoth. A beam of light like a laser engulfed the men, causing them to quiver and shake like an electrical current were running through them. In moments, the men collapsed face down on the ground.

With the end of the Staff, the pharaoh/god poked his challengers. They lay still and quiet as though dead. As if struck by a bolt of lightening, Erik flinched as he took on a glow of golden light showering down upon him. The powers of the two Norse deities now belonged to him. Erik felt energized, renewed. With wild-eyed cravings, he licked his lips at the thought of the final battle for the Spear; the pain and terror he would inflict upon his opponent; the last moments of life from the man who took his place as The Phantom of the Opera.

Hey hey! Sorry for not posting. I was REALLY busy! Nice chapter again, Fay! At the moment I think Erik's a few notes short of an opera! I can't believe he's ask for Mae's head! Post again soon!

I wonder if that part of Erik deep down that still loves Mae will resurface somehow. This degree of madness is not normal for our Erik; will he snap out of it? Or will there indeed be a fight to the death between him and Doone? Will it even matter if he snaps out of it? You have got me wondering and asking so many questions again, my friend, I salute your brilliance!!

Please do continue again soon,


D

Good to see both of you, EriksComposer and Slitherliggie. Glad you enjoyed. Yes, there are many questions posed and soon all will be answered.

Please stayed tuned.

Now I post another chapter. Please R&R. Enjoy!

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CHAPTER 83

Tuilleries Garden, Paris

Somewhere in the midst of all the blooming flowers and lacy trees, a soft, gentle breeze rustled the leaves and bushes making a sound like the whisper of a sultry female. Both Phantom Doone and Raoul le Vicomte de Chagny clear heard it. This time Doone seemed to recognize the voice. A faint smile stretched across his face. Yet, he said nothing to Raoul.

Upon reaching one of the fountains, a transparent figure formed itself before them. Raoul froze and gasped aloud. Doone merely halted and waited for the materialization to complete.

The Greville Ghost. The old fellow stood before them in the same shabby robe and trousers he had on last they saw him. Doone and Raoul exchange puzzled looks. The old spectre should be moaning and groaning in the Ghost Tower at Warwick Castle. What would he be doing here?





No one else seemed to see him.

Still confused and surprised, Raoul stammered, “Sir Greville, w…what brings you here? Y…you are so quiet you’ve even taken to whisper.”

“Whisper? I do not whisper, young man,” began the ghost in its scratchy voice. “I came to help if I can. I long to be free of the Warwick Castle. After so many hundreds of years, one grows weary of scaring the locals and the tourists. Besides, the young people aren’t even frightened. The sounds of disembodied moans and rattling chains make them laugh rather than run away screaming in fear.”

“Thank you, Sir Greville. We need all the help we can get. If you aren’t doing the whispering then who is?” asked le Vicomte.

“Can’t see her clearly, but it is a female. Not sure if she’d dead or alive. She is no ordinary woman,” declared the ghost. Instantly, Raoul assumed it was Hathor using Mae’s body, but Doone knew better.

“I do have a warning for you. Beware of the messenger. All is not what it seems.”

“Aren’t you giving us a message?” Raoul questioned.

“No, I’m giving you a warning.”

“What does it mean?”

“Just think about what I’ve said. It will come to you later.” And with that the spectre faded and vanished as quickly and suddenly as he’d appeared.

Shaking his head, le Vicomte looked to Phantom Doone. “Comments?”

“It has already begun,” came the cryptic reply.

“Now don’t you start. A cryptic ghost is bad enough.” Raoul moved to the shade of a grand tree full of lacy leaves.

“Greville is right. The meaning will come to you. We may be heard,” said Doone with a slight quiver in his voice. Raoul de Chagny had acquired much respect for his friend, but when Doone showed fear or apprehension, this made him very nervous and insecure. Beads of cold sweated formed on the poor Vicomte’s forehead.


The Medici Fountain at Luxembourg Gardens

By La Fontaine Medici stood a bigger than life sculpture of the Cyclops Polyphemus surprising the lovers Acis the spirit of the Acis River in Sicily and Galatea a nereid or sea nymph. Here Phantom Doone asked Raoul to allow him alone time. The battle with a maniacal god would take a lot of mental strength and strategy. Somehow, he felt tranquil at the fountain and he wanted to meditate.




The water seemed tranquil enough; the sculpture inspiring. With closed eyes, Phantom Doone sat in the shadows of the trees. Everything suddenly fell silent. No birds twittered, no breeze, no animals stirred.

In the quiet of his meditation, Doone’s mind drifted off to a place of many visions.

Some showed a fierce battle with much damage and destruction of buildings and homes. Another scene flashed upon the dead and dying, men, women and children scattered among the debris. From the skies fell balls of fire and clouds with an eerie red glow behind them roiled in to view. The stench of death and decay stifled the survivors.

In the midst of destruction a beam of golden light emanating from the Lance of Longinus pierced the darkness. From a distance, the Staff of Osiris glowed with a weird green light that pulsed and hummed, like electricity coursing through power lines.

From above, descended a man and a horse. Out of a split in the air came a beast with a foul stench and many eyes.

With panic gripping his heart, Doone found himself moving quickly to escape the scene. The gallop of horses’ hooves pounded close behind. The heat of many flames nipped at his feet and scorched the back of his neck.

In a moment, his eyes popped open as Doone desperately struggled to breathe. For some reason he laid flat of his back on the ground, looking up at the huge sculpture of Polyphemus. Doone’s pulse raced as sweat poured down his face. While he scrambled to get up, he found was still alone. What visions haunted him?

As he pushed his body up from the ground he heard a female whisper, “I am here if you need.” The same voice he and Raoul heard in the Tuilleries. He knew who it was.

When he started to reply, the popping and crackling of static ripping through the atmosphere interrupted the moment. Something appeared to be forcing open a portal in mid air. Not a good sign. When properly walking though dimensions one must use a reflective surface, water, a mirror, or glass, even a gem. Not pushing through the air like a common monster.

He wanted to run, but as much as he tried he couldn’t. Something compelled him to stay. A growl echoed from the popping and crackling. Now more then ever, Doone wanted to live, but waiting to see what growled may alter that. A doorway shimmied into view. Something or someone shadowed the entrance.

Oooh, creepy! I am curious what is coming out of there?? And who does that voice belong to?

I do hope you continue again soon, my friend. I await at the edge of my seat as always.




D

Good to see you Slitherliggie. Thank you again for the kind words.

Now I post the next chapter for your reading pleasure. See what happens next.

Please R&R. Enjoy!


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CHAPTER 84

Luxembourg Garden, Paris


Only the popping and crackling of the portal in mid air disturbed the silence of the exquisite gardens. The shadow in the doorway of the portal stood still and silent. Only an occasional snort and growl mingled in with the popping and crackling noise.

Phantom Doone pulled himself up to his full height. Then slowly he backed away from the opening. Even as a genius and master of magick, he had no desire to face a shadowy thing from another dimension. It had snuck up on him and for what?

“Prepare to die. Put your affairs in order. Bid farewell to all you hold precious and dear, for you life will soon be no more,” roared the ominous words from the shadow standing at the opening of the portal.

Phantom Doone grabbed up the Spear of Destiny and moved back a few more steps. Whatever stood at the portal’s entrance flashed a beam of white light from its eyes to those of the giant sculpture of the Cyclops Polyphemus. Instantly, the sculpture became flesh and with clumsy, wooden steps moved back and turned to face the current Phantom.






With no wish to fight a statue come to life, Doone turned quickly and vanished into the nearby foliage; Polyphemus close behind.

The rustling of the branches and bushes at his rear assured Doone the Cyclops drew near. Trembling as he reached the edge of the gardens, just before the footpath, Doone ducked and rolled with the Spear pointing upward. Without hesitation, the stupid one-eyed thing burst through the foliage where it landed on the tip of the Lance of Longinus. The weight of the monster would have snapped the Spear, had it not been for the powers within. Moving with the weight of the creature, Phantom Doone rolled to the side, crashing the huge carcass to the ground. As soon as he pulled the Lance from the Cyclops’ chest, the thing turned back into a sculpture.

Hearing the scampering of many feet and the voices of several people, Doone hid himself as park goers and some security gathered around the downed figure, trying to figure out how it got off its pedestal near Acis and Galatea.

His hands shook like a leaf and his heart beat faster than a trip hammer. Doone swallowed hard and took several deep breaths and closed his eyes.

While the crowd mulled things over with security, the crackling and popping entered the atmosphere. Most people ignored the sound, too busy trying to figure out how the sculpture of the Cyclops ended up so far away from Acis and Galatea.

From the bushes Phantom Doone peered up through the foliage as the portal opened with the shadow, again hovering in the doorway. This time some bystanders saw it and screamed out a warning. The others and the security officers looked up as the shadowy figure stepped out of the portal, lumbering toward them, as it descended. The crowd screamed and the security guards drew their guns and fired, to no avail. The shadowy thing kept coming.

Mystical Realm of Pharaoh’s Court

The heat of the day intensified as slaves continued their work on the nearby pyramid. A gentle breeze stirred as the stench of sweat and work animals wafted on the air. Presently, Hermes/Mercury and Pegasus have found the mortal body of Mae, Erik’s beloved wife, as she sat upon a stone near a small pool of water in the gardens outside of the temple of Hathor. At first the messenger to the gods tried speaking to her, but when she didn’t respond, he assumed she was dead. Slowly, he moved toward her. Rosy cheeks and lips fooled the beholder into thinking she was alive, but as soon as Hermes touched her, the coldness of her snow-white flesh assured him she was dead. Everything about the body appeared perfectly preserved. She neither blinked nor breathed. Even he Hermes, a god, shivered at such a sight. What caused her to exist like this?

A female voice addressed the messenger and demanded he state his business. Looking around in astonishment, he drew back in fear and replied, “I have come for the head of this young woman if she is dead. My master requires it.”

“Lord Hermes are you not subject to Zeus and not the imposter with god-like powers?” the feminine voice sounded like the rushing of many waters and echoed all around.

“Yes, my lady, this is true, but the new pharaoh/god as great powers. More than mine. Please my lady, are you a goddess?” Hermes cried out.

“I am she to whom this temple was built. I am Hathor, cow goddess of love, happiness, dance and music. I am the protector of women. Leave this place and do not return. Or I will strike thee down!” warned the female voice.

When he heard the name ‘Hathor’, a light came on in his mind. Rumor had it the goddess had almost no power, but what he saw and heard made him shudder in fear. She must have a substantial amount of power to keep a mortal body in a living state without the spirit present. For what reason, he did not know.

Erik’s demand for Mae’s head tumbled around in his mind. Hermes best served the gods by delivering messages and protecting shepherds, travelers, merchants and thieves. Violence like this did not become him. He could not behead such a beautiful woman, even if she were dead. Hathor would retaliate if he tried and only the gods over him knew what she would or could do.

Once more Hermes stretched forth his hand to touch Mae, but this time her hand grabbed his so fast, he never saw it coming. Only the steel-like death grip around his wrist brought him to his knees. The blank stare in the woman’s eyes never wavered. Pegasus whinnied and reared up on its hind legs. Dead eyes stared it down and in a moment the winged horse calmed and fell silent.

From a distance, a battle cry rang out. The time to fight for the priceless objects had come. No matter what, someone had to die.

Ooooh! Creepy! Please continue soon!

So this is it? I'm glad Hathor is willing to protect Mae and it is sad that Hermes is being forced to try to get her head to Erik. Is the battle about to commence the one between Erik and Doone? Oh, boy, I am so excited right now...


Please do continue again soon, I await at the edge of my seat.


D