The Devil's DanceThe Devil's Dance7 years ago in Mystery & Suspense More Like This
~Be careful when you speak your thoughts... you never know just who or what might be listening...~
The princess of the land was weeping silently by her loves bedside. For many moons, her husband-to-be, Reginar, had been sick with a deadly disease. During both the day and night, Princess Niamh watched over the prince she was to be married to. How she loved him and he loved her, but the tuberculosis was killing him. Slowly and painfully, Reginar was dying because he was choking on his own blood. No doctor could help against this lethal illness. There nothing no one could do for him. The only thing left to do was hope for a miracle.
One dark night, when the sky had no stars in sight, the princess prayed softly while she let her tears fall. Holding onto Reginars hand while he slept, she begged the heavens and the hells not to let her true love die. It was not fair that he had to be the one to go! Not her love! Not only did the angels hear her prayers
Playing At GodPlaying At God4 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
Erik knew that he had been playing at being God for far too long.
Everything that he had done manipulation, blackmail, seduction All in the name of Erik the Almighty. He chuckled in spite of himself. He was like the Devil, playing at God. Let's live deep down, below civilization, and never visit the great above. No, that was defiantly not his territory, at least according to Mlle. Daaé. She had thought that her fool of a lover and she would be safe from his glowing yellow eyes up, and up on the roof of the Opera House. A god, however, had hidden the beast behind his lyre. How very kind of Apollo.
And yet again here he was in his cavernous home. Alone. The Devil hadn't tempted Christ with Hell, no, the Devil had tempted Christ with all of God's domain. Well, down in his lair, Erik was God, and his domain was vast and outspanning into the whole of the Opera House. And this is what the monster had offered to the little Prima Donna.
Backstage GossipMeg Giry, you little prat, snapped La Sorelli from where she sat at her dressing table puffing chalky powder onto her face, if you knew what was good for you, you would shut your mouth this instant!Backstage Gossip8 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
From the opposite side of the dressing room, the little waif of a girl pursed her full lips and tossed a thick shock of long ebony hair over her shoulder.
I wouldnt talk that way if I were you, Sorelli, Meg sneered pompously, narrowing her slate gray eyes, The ghost could be lurking somewhere near.
The crowd of lanky ballerinas huddled around Meg let out a collective gasp, snapping their necks around fearfully to check for apparitions.
Sorellis rouged lips pursed and she placed her hands on her hips.
Your head is stuffed with fluff, do you know that? she shook her head, Does your mother know that you are spreading such stories?
I watched Meg draw herself to her full height (which was not at all an impressive
First FriendLegend of ZeldaFirst Friend8 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Hey! screamed a voice. When no response came, the fairy tried again, only grabbing the little Hylian awake. Hey!! the fairy shouted again. The young boy just rolled to is side, waving his hand at her.
5 more minutes Deku Tree Link moaned.
The fairy sighed, and prepared her voice for the best. Flying right next to his ear, tickling the earlobes, she took a deep breathe.
HEY!!! she screamed at the top of her lungs.
DAAAAH!! Link screamed falling off the stone wall he was sleeping on and landing face first onto the dirt road. Oww the boy whined, rubbing his bleeding nose. He glared at the glowing puffball known as his fairy, Navi.
What was that for?! Link shouted angrily, getting to his feet.
Its your own fault! You slept past sunrise! And you know the dangers of-
Yeah, yeah, I know. Link said interrupting the fairys ranting.
Code Geass Alt. End. SPOILERS Kallen awoke to the sound of heavy boots tramping in unison. The sound grew louder, and she gradually opened her eyes, trying to focus in the dimly lit cell. Figures stood in front of the glass door; it slid open.Code Geass Alt. End. SPOILERS6 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
Get up, Kallen Közuki, you traitor!
It was the guards. Why were they harassing her so early in the morning? She tried to stand on her own, but they grew impatient and yanked her to her feet, dragging her out of her cell and off to who knew where.
Heh, she smiled to herself. So its finally time for my execution. But as they passed rows of her comrades, she began to question her fate. Shouldnt they all be headed to the chopping block at the same time? This wasnt a hostage situation where they killed off one person at a time until their dem
The Holiday: Chapter OneThe Holiday: Chapter OneThe Holiday: Chapter One7 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
How I detest Mondays. Of course this dislike is deliciously cliché, but I feel entirely justified in my frustration. This particular Monday was presenting itself as one of the worst in quite some time: indeed, I had only been observing rehearsal for an hour and already my head was throbbing.
The usual was taking place, only exaggerated to such an extent that had I been in good health, I would have been doubled over with laughter. Signora Guidicelli was persistently griping about God knows what at the top of her operatic lungs, blurring her French and Italian into one indistinguishable mess. Something akin to pity rose up when I surveyed the poor conductor: he looked utterly exhausted and had long ago abandoned arguing with the diva, instead electing to take a well-deserved nap in the orchestra pit. The acting manager looked no better: he continually raked his ha
Down at the Ozdust I wasn't entirely sure of the way to the OzDust Ballroom. It's not like I had ever had a reason in my life to go there, or to any dance hall, for that matter. But I headed there now, or where I thought "there" was, keeping my head down to better ignore the stares of the people I passed, and clutching the black, pointed hat in both hands. I felt as though I shouldn't be going, but the hat was as good as an invitation, wasn't it? Galinda had specifically given it to me to wear to the party.Down at the Ozdust4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Galinda. Had something changed about her? I was certain that she couldn't stand the sight of me--who could?--but this hat was the second nice thing today that she'd done for me. Well, the first was for my sister, but that as good as counted. I absolutely hated owing anything to anyone, but being indebted to Galinda...it was more than I could
How Erik saved my lifeSince a few people have asked me about what I mean when I say Erik, the Phantom of the opera, saved my life I figured Id write it out. This is a true story of a big change for me at least in part of my life so please even if you think Im ludicrous dont make fun of me in the comments, thank you.How Erik saved my life7 years ago in General Non-Fiction More Like This
When I say Erik, the Phantom of the opera saved my life he really did. You see when I was younger all the way up till today Ive been made fun of and treated like an outcast by most people, even my family, I sometimes wondered if it would be better if I never existed and even at a young age, Im assuming 9/10 is young, I thought of suicide. The worst time for me was school; everyone would make fun of me for just about everything, how I looked, how I acted, they laughed when I spoke even if all I said was Hi they basically made fun of me any and everyway they could. My parents were no help I remember once my father telling me I deserved it that I was exactl
The Bracelet - Wicked fanfic"Come in."The Bracelet - Wicked fanfic9 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Fiyero opened the door at the sound of Elphaba's voice. He had never actually set foot inside the dorm room before – when he came to pick Galinda up for a date, she'd usually hurry to the door to meet him. He couldn't help smiling to himself. What secrets would he learn about her? Was she messy? Did she have embarrassing pictures on her walls?
There was nothing messy at all about the room, however. Galinda's side was neat, her extensive wardrobe lined up neatly in her closet, her shoes perfectly straight, and her pink, frilly bed made. Elphaba's side appeared even neater, but that was only because there wasn't much there – besides the book-lined shelves, she only had a few simple dresses.
Elphaba was sitting on her bed, absorbed in a book. She looked especially green in the lamp from her bedside table, and she didn't even honor him with a look to see who he was. "Galinda's not
EyesWhen he looks at me God when he looks at me, I cannot think.Eyes7 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
He is mesmerizing, terrible and powerful, yet infinitely gentle and adoring. It is as if I am a butterfly cupped between his lithe hands, and he will not move for fear of ripping my wings. Astounding, really, how hypnotizing that gaze can be
It must be his eyes. Ive never seen such eyes. They are at times a smoldering gold, shooting flames from their depths to pierce the soul. At other times they are the softest yellow: a sunrise, perhaps, reflected upon a lake and rippling in the morning breeze. What astounds me the most is the infinite sadness held within those molten orbs, the incredible amount of longing, of severe and absolute despair. It is heart wrenching.
He is haunted. By what, I do not know. He would rather die, I think, than tell me. All I know is that the veil over those eyes is held in place by a past that is of the worst and most unimaginable kind. Sorrow is his puppeteer. That sorrow
The Holiday: Chapter TenPhannum?The Holiday: Chapter Ten7 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
I clenched my teeth in frustration and withdrew my attention from the composition in front of me with great difficulty.
I am busy, I said coldly. The boy in the doorway shuffled his feet nervously and fingered the large scarf that draped over his neck.
I do not believe that you do, for if you did, you would not pester me so. The pen resumed scribbling notes onto the staff, a lovely melody unfurling in my head and spilling out onto the parchment. It was a gift for her, inspired by her, and named for her. A Christmas gift, I suppose one would say. I wanted her music to speak of her soul. And it undoubtedly would.
If I had been permitted solitary time to complete it, that is.
That nuisance of a child seemed to take great pleasure in aggravating me to no end. Id avoided him (along with the rest of his meddlesome family) for the past several days, choosing instead to spend time with C
The Holiday: Chapter FiveIt was snowing when we arrived.The Holiday: Chapter Five7 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
Snowing rather heavily, I might add. Have I mentioned that I loathe snow?
Christine loves it. I watched her jump out of the carriage and utter a cry of delight at the sparkling white landscape, laughing in sheer, unabashed joy.
God, how I love that sound.
The village was disgustingly adorable. Squat cottages sat happily next to each other, a cheery yellow glow shining from every window of each. Several were laced with Christmas decorations. Signs swung in the wind, advertising franchises such as Madame Duponts Pastries, Le Café Des Boulevards, and Jean-Marcs Fine Tailoring. Pink-cheeked couples walked hand-in-hand along the sidewalks, hunched against the cold yet still smiling widely. There were carolers even, a dreadful cacophony of sound that made me want to slap the culprits on the back of the head for even attempting such a monstrosity.
And yes, there were stares.
I'd remained adamant that Christin
Finale- Glinda's POVI stepped into my bubble carefully as I tried to come to terms with what had happened. Elphaba's dear monkey, Chistery, crawled over to me and handed me the Grimmie, the old book that had started everything. The book that lead her to fly above the sky and leave me for two years. What was behind the book didn't matter, I hugged the book tightly as I took flight in my bubble. The Ozians around me were happy and cheering about the death of my dear friend. "No one mourns the Wicked...Now at last, she's dead and gone. Now at last there's joy through the land..."Finale- Glinda's POV4 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
Joy? I wasn't feeling joy at that moment, but I was and am a public official.
"Fellow Ozians.... Friends..." I let out a light shaky laugh. I didn't usually always address them so casually. "We have been through a frighting time...And there will be other times and other things that frighten us. But if you'll let me, I'd like to try to help..." I reassured them. "I'd like to be Glinda," I paused. "The good."
The Holiday: Chapter ThreeI awoke before the sunrise the next morning, shocked that I had slept the entire night (in full dress, no less) for the first time in years, and eager to leave Antoinette's stifling chambers. I had to admit that her intentions were kind, but I was enormously uncomfortable with such a gesture. Not once in my life had anyone doted on me, and it was unsettling to know that the ballet mistress cared so much. Perhaps time had taught me never to trust. Indeed, I could not see a time when I would fully open up to anyone, even my dear Christine.The Holiday: Chapter Three7 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
She had fallen asleep on the divan by the window, her tiny form elegantly draped over the plush surface. Carefully, I gathered her up in my arms and placed her upon the bed, tucking the quilt over her form as quietly as possible. She did not awaken, but merely sighed in contentment and snuggled into the sheets, a small smile tickling her full lips.
I scribbled a hasty note of thanks and left it on Antoinette's table before leaving, relieved that I woul
The Holiday: Chapter SixJust a bit further, Christine assured me, huffing a little as she dragged her luggage along, It should be beyond that hill over there. Her cheeks and the tip of her nose had grown pink in the frigid air. Her brows were furrowed with exhaustion from our long walk, and it was clear that she wanted nothing more to reach the cabin, drop her bags, and collapse on the featherbed. However, despite her discomfort, she managed to maintain a cheery disposition.The Holiday: Chapter Six7 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
As you have probably guessed, that was not the case with me.
I should think that hailing a brougham would have been far more practical, I began, nearly ready to rip out the tongue of the next unfortunate person who gave me a nasty look.
Erik, here are no broughams here, at least not in these little side streets. Besides, look at how lovely it is here! She grinned brilliantly. You wouldnt want to miss this scenery, would you?
Yes, I would very much like to miss this sc
Because I CanLAYER ONE:Because I Can8 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
Name: Many: Opera Ghost, the Phantom, Angel of Music, and certain explicit names that common decency forbids me to record. You may call me Erik.
Birthplace: St. Martin de Boscherville, France
Birthday: Will you believe me if I assure you that I have absolutely no idea?
Gender: Male. I pity the woman named Erik.
Eye Color: a rather garish shade of yellow
Hair Color: Ah, you must be referring to those fine, shaggy strands that crown my head? Black, then.
Height: Six feet, four inches, I believe. Why cant you behave normally and use the metric system like everyone else?
Righty or Lefty: Hands? Left.
Zodiac Sign: Did we not discuss this previously?
Elemental Sign: Must you?
Chinese Zodiac Sign: Come now, this is getting ridiculous. Stop your laziness this instant and check the birthday question if you insist on an answer!
Your heritage: French. I believe the name Erik is Scandinavian, but as to my ancestry in this area, I have
Questions_______Best________Questions7 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
1. Male friend:
I suppose Nadir could count...yes, he's certainly put up with enough.
2. Female friend:
Unfortunately, vacation-time is nonexistent at this point. I should like to travel to Egypt someday, however. History practically seeps from the walls in that city.
I shan't forget her debut gala as long as I live.
1. Time of day:
Day itself. I much prefer moonlight.
2. Day of the week:
There is a mutual dislike of Monday, no matter who you speak to. Mondays herald another week of notes, arguments, and Mlle. Carlotta's petty complaints regarding her latest poodle.
Never, I repeat, never attempt to shovel down fois gras. Ignore the hype, I beg of you: Simply refuse to eat anything that once flapped about and quacked.
I have a hefty supply to choose from.
1. Person you saw:
I believe it was Nadir...yes, it was. He demanded that I return his favorite pair of woolen s
A kissA kiss9 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
That simple meeting of flesh
Where two may mesh
In fondness, sadness,
And even mind.
And yet, in solitude
I have not known,
The love I've felt,
For you alone.
But when we kissed,
The love you feigned…
We broke apart,
My spirits died,
I bade you leave
I set you free,
You could not love,
A beast like me
And yet, a hope,
Pierced the dark
Of ceaseless night
A ring, so simple,
Yet so divine,
Was no longer his
But yours and mine.
Phantom Poem #5Phantom Poem #510 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Lying in the dark,
my heart lying in a thousand pieces,
scattered on the floor,
your words of love for him,
terror and loathing for me,
this echoing back
and slicing my broken heart to ribbons.
It is not fair...
what could I have done to you?!
Did I not tell you?
Did I not show you?
Did I not give you everything
and only ask so little in return?
This cold cruel light pours on me,
how inferior I am to him.
I gave you my heart,
showed you my loneliness,
then soon as he came by, you threw me aside,
and gave him your heart to have,
your lips to kiss,
your hand to hold.
What could I have done
when I can't even compare
So break my heart.
Throw the rose I gave to you in the fire.
I won't wait for you
to show up crying at my door.
I won't be the fool.
But I'll die a little inside...
just a little...
until I can greet Death
with open arms.
The PoemIt all started with English classThe Poem3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Sitting with my friends, writing nonsense
Partnering up due to lack of inspiration
When suddenly, an idea!!
The words begin to flow
First a page, then two!
A story, it seems
Is beginning to unfold.
But wait! What is this?
Your friend, it seems, thinks something's amiss.
A poem without rhymes? It cannot be done!
She takes over this stanza, making it more fun!
My hand flies through the air,
Slamming into my face.
Now I have to rhyme!
I ought to hit you with my mace...
Laughter comes forth
Falling out of my mouth
Has anyone noticed
This poem's gone south?
What is going on?!
This is NOT what I planned...
It started out good
But now it's gotten out of hand.
Alas, this is better!
More fun, makes less sense!
Writing poems is more fun
Than painting a fence!
A Tale of Two Lightyears p.1A Tale of Two Lightyears p.18 years ago in Science Fiction More Like This
A T A L E of T W O L I G H T Y E A R S
Sciren's Part One -
S O U L S A P A R T
_ __ ___ ____ _____________________________________________ ____ ___ __ _
It was just another dismal, starless night for Sciren. He was perched on the same old balcony window of his clay and sandstone room staring down with the same old stony expression at the same old Seirian spaceport town. The town began to drift off to sleep as the candlelights and luxurious electric light bulbs gradually submitted to the dark night around them. Sciren gazed away from the spectacle and looked down at the broken voice-translator in his lap. In an instant, he speedily got back to repairing it in time for the last postal deliveries for the
Second ChanceSecond Chance3 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
I want to die. Painfully, for the sins I have committed against Chr- NO! I will not think about her!
Erik cradled his deformed head in his hands. He felt as if his head would explode into tiny little pieces from the emotional pain he was now enduring. The enraged cries of the mob echoed against the cold stone walls of the tunnels above, but Erik could hardly make himself care. The Phantom's already fragile heart was shattered, and very little could fix it. He wanted to die, be ripped limb from limb.
"Erik!" The tenor jumped. He looked up, astounded. The voice was... concerned? It seemed as if the entire world hated the Opera Ghost, why would anyone talk to him like that? Surely the feminine voice that was speaking to him was confused, thinking him someone that wasn't a murderer, a kidnapper, a man with a heart irreparably destroyed. The salty tears that had been threatening to spill over now did, and his entire body shook with sobs. He said to the voice, "You have me...
Haunted Chapter EightErikHaunted Chapter Eight3 years ago in Drama More Like This
I spent the next several days lying in wait in the old warehouse, in what appeared to be a long-abandoned basement.
Despite the familiar comfort of a cellar, I could not tolerate the gray. The room in which I was obliged to sojourn was gray---impersonal, industrial, mechanistic, hideous gray, from the endless maze of pipes that wove across the low ceiling to the crumbling stones set into the wall to the stained concrete floor. Geometrics, stark, uninspired geometrics; not a flourish of art, not a hint beauty. All was graythe loose hospital garments, the low, rumbling sky, the shadows of the maskgray, gray, gray, and I could not escape from it.
One would assume that an individual in my precarious condition would concern himself with matters of greater importance than the heinous architecture and drab color scheme, yet I was fixated upon it. And by God, I could not abide by it. It was sickening.
For I thirsted for beauty, and yet beauty seemed determined