166His Ecstasy - Chapter 1
Ecstasy.
The feeling, that was what it was. His little bird, his little dove, his little sparrow, his little red-breasted robin. Oh! This feeling. Far more brilliant than the effects of morphine. Rather than the dull bliss, peaceful calm, his heart beat now as if he had a sudden brilliant epiphany. As if he was viewing the touch of nature for the first time, that his face for once stood for life rather than the epitome of death. The magic she wove before him, the little prick of light from her smile. Her true smile. That was for him. His granted happiness, her joy, her delight, oh how he, Erik, wanted to weep at her feet! It was as if he had tested the limits of his genius and now, another whole world had been revealed. He lived for her, her laugh that was as beautiful as the summer breeze, the tinkling chimes in the wind that rang like the Bells of Notre Dame. But he was the bell ringer. How beautiful to witness such joy – never had he ever been so blessed or aware or wanting. What was the most beautiful thing of all, was that she herself was so unaware of her infectious state. Erik could almost taste it, her sunshine. Sunburst and orange, lilies and the smell of dew, whispering white blossom petals.
When he returned, he hoped that this beautiful feeling could be transferred to music, to art. Erik knew that she never understood what he meant by her being his muse, but nonetheless she was. Innocent, ever so innocent in her joy, in her intentions. Just as the most beautiful damsel in any fairy tale, she was what brought the highest form of ecstasy. Erik was able to say that he was being the sole reason of her beaming evanescence. There she stood, ethereal in her beauty – that it shone from her hotter and brighter than any sun. No picture could ever truly capture the pureness of it all; it was something that awed him.
HE had done this, picked up those pieces of her that were so mesmerising and quietly, unsuspectingly sowed them together again. Her soul had been beautiful, even when broken – a definitive sadness that had allowed him to walk in so easily – but now, here she was and she had not realised that he had expertly sowed in a part of him into her soul as well. His music flowed in her veins, his voice her sole dependant glue, his home where she would rest forevermore. No human could ever strip that part away, no that was what Erik smile now. Smiling had once been a foreign notion, but here, in the sanctuary of his own world, he had never been freer. Christine spun around in the gardens, an angel in her own right. Ecstasy, ownership, responsibility for another, how they were things he had only dreamed for. His Christine, his striking bird, fluttering around in her newly opened dome. A falcon he had trained to return to his hand but released from the strict chain of his glove. He had travelled the hardest part, had gained her implicit trust and obligation through trial and error. Now here was the reward, seeing her run through the trees, with the dappled sun on her flowing locks, her swishing dress with the back of it like fluttering tail feathers soaring the skies. That dress of which had always been a favourite of his.
His.
She was all his.
He followed her, a silent spectator to her ambience. It almost hurt, to see such joy when granted her a small freedom. Her little feet dipping into the crystal water, her little crow of delight when a stone skipped successfully. It was enough to stand in the shadows and watch, for her to express more than he had ever seen her. It was a laugh of joy, not one of humour that he had been able to elicit from her. It stood higher than any gasp from a magic trick, any attempt to bring a small inkling of emotion brought to the herself surface.
Liberating, was the feeling. Erik could only imagine the possibilities now, now she did not scorn what he gave. So many tears he had heard behind closed doors, in the middle of the night, pure agony it had been. Her sobs, her tears, her unending terrors. Music had flowed from his fingers to soothe her and though his keen ears had heard harder sobs at first, his music had been able to lull her gently asleep. How many days had it been for? He had started to lose count, lose hope for his little bird to grow accustomed to her…entrapment. How he had wished that his fingers had been able to stroke her soft feathers to calm her. For a being that had lived a incredibly normal life of a person, he knew that to wake up in a world with new rules had taken a terrible toll.
At first, he had been pleasantly amused at her biting, her snapping, her pecking at his fingers when trying to tame that anger. It fascinated him, almost to distraction. Pure eagerness at exploiting those new emotions had created some of the furthest music in his repertoire so far. Always an inspiration, even at her worst, she had been able to produce such untapped sorrow that it had enchanted him. Oh! How alike they were! It was beautiful for such a creature, so gentle and pure could feel the depths of true human sorrow. Captivating, the scientist within him, (the obsessive curiosity), had wanted to pick her apart and examine each and every emotion. To then draw up the explanations for such complexity.
Erik had never realised that another could feel so similar and the potent emotions that had haunted his isolated existence. But her tears, they had been so beautiful when touched with his music. They gleamed golden. Little by little, his heart had slipped, piece by piece, to this slip of a girl. Such great joy, such vast sadness, all in one being.
But when she had first sung, oh how dead it had been! Erik had thought he had just worked her out when her voice – lifeless, with little remnant of joy – had only little hope that remained. A dying fire, a flame slowly flickering out. What sorrow he had felt at the thought, more Erik had ever felt for anyone. However, such potential. He had seen her pure untapped grief, he could see what angelic joy it could hold, if only he was the one to turn on the light.
So, Erik had become a figurative angel to her, one sent to guide. He had not meant to fall so far from the supposed heavens, even if in reality he was from the very depths of hell. Hell, she had enchanted him. Erik felt like Icarus who had had flown far too close to the sun. But he was able to fly as close as he dared, for his wings ice could not melt and he was unwilling to ever let his sunshine go.
For Erik loved her so.
He believed she would sleep outside if she could. Such audacity, such spirit. How thrilling it was to see it revived by the simple melodies of nature. He stood on the fringes of her happiness, his fingers trailing past the leaves her fingers had traced lovingly. His own fingertips plucking a flower that her deft fingers had fondled. A piece of thread caught on a low hanging thorn. Sure signs like pressed grass footsteps showed her flurried passage. Keeping his angel in sight, he marvelled at her gleeful journey through his grounds. Erik's kingdom. Reaching the ends of the trail through the forest, the space panned out to rolling fields of flowers. Lavender took residence in one, there on the hill stood the oak tree and its fine swing. On the other side were the orchards, succulent apple and pear trees. Others held vines of grapes that were picked and sold when ripe; a small business that Erik had shares in with his produce. Not the most wonderful grapes, however for the best he would have to grow them in a climate that was far more consistent than the likes of England. But business was business, that's what Erik cared about. Though England was tight for space in many areas, his property spanned a hundred acres, more than his angel could possibly traverse through in one day.
A certain bitterness within his mind knew the falcon in her searched the treeline for where her freedom ended, the slight fear that he knew encompassed her as the day grew in numbers of shadows. Though her tread slowed to a more manageable pace, Erik knew that she would want to keep looking for the border. Temping as it was to take her there, to show her where the end lay, it would only torment her. Erik would not make her unhappy, nor did he want to ruin her joy by reminding where the end was and warning her that attempts of escape could be fatal indeed. Erik could easily take away what freedom he had granted, but he did not want to. Erik did not want her to regress and become nothing more than an ill-fated prisoner. Not in the way she had started.
Even if their current peace was weak, he would be loathed to shatter it. His deception had been the greatest triumph, yet it had consequences that was perhaps not altogether unforeseeable. Unwilling as he was to admit it, he had heard her cries proclaiming their hatred of him, cursing him, damning him. Though reassuring himself that she was a mere child, that words were prone to be unmeant in such a circumstance, it had been hard not to break the pleasant vase that had been delicately placed on the table. Or the china plates. Or the monitor that surveyed the cameras around the perimeter of his grandeur-filled estate. The only thing that had stopped him was the fact that he had not wanted to prove that he was a monster if she had heard something shattering. That there truly would have been no hope of regaining her favour. All for one being, his broken heart bled.
His lady sat on the crest of the hill that overlooked their surroundings, legs drawn up and head resting on her arms. Erik's ears pricked as he heard her stifle a yawn whilst a small knowing smile threatened to ruin his composure. Fingers clenched at his side, how desperately he wanted to touch lightly a curl, wind it around his finger. To tip her chin up and slide a finger down a cheek, those delightful lips breaking into a smile. Of course, the last part would never happen. His death's fingers would surely make her shudder, shrink back in repulsion.
Nails were creating imprints in his sweltering glove, fingers cool and clammy. There was a slickness of his palm that altered him of this fact. But Erik was content. A shadow to her happiness. If he could make her happy, then he would be happy damn it! A gnawing frustration grew however, until he was pacing within the edges of the undergrowth. Agitated. Suddenly the dark cool basement of his home seemed heavenly right now, his subject of his torment out of mind. Yet he could not exactly leave her. As much as the cameras installed in the trees, hedges and posts could track anyone's progress, Erik could not leave her. His presence exuded further than he knew, a wraith-like aura that once had been an advantage to set fear in the mind of his latest victim. Now it only worked against him. His natural malevolence was wrong in the face of beauty, it could only create friction. Unease.
Wisps of clouds settled overhead, lilac and dusty pink, the lower shades of pastel orange and yellow drifting underneath. Christine, he knew, would want to catalogue this to try on canvas – for she had always been a dabbler in the art of paint – and so would gaze at the sight of the heavens to lodge such a colour combination in her memory. Soon a breeze would make her shiver and Erik waited, knowing he would be able to come to her aid and he would be able to put her back together again. Just like before, putting another piece of him in her heart.
Erik would wait for the day she woke knowing without him, she would not be whole. Then his ecstasy would strike once more, as she returned to his side forever.
Wowie! That was fun! I read a fanfic recently which inspired the English setting and Erik's home being portrayed like this. I can't remember it as of the moment, but it was a brilliantly written fanfiction that takes place after Christine's entrapment with Erik in a mental rehab and her slowly picking up the pieces of her life. It isn't finished unfortunately, but I appreciate the amazing way they wrote it!
I seem to be taking a liking to Leroux Erik at the moment, so I do hope I am capturing this Erik's unique mindset. He is rather a funny fellow! (Hey Erik, don't poke me, I meant it nicely). I am actually hoping to add more to this, in separate drabbles and occasions.
Would you like more? Would anybody tell me that its worth my while?
I hope you are all well. I am going slightly stir crazy and not being able to do anything properly! Also, Erik sends a rose to each of you who review. At the moment he's peeking over my shoulder and telling me the real way to write is on paper. I'm ignoring that.
I am beta-less so I am always open to offers if anyone wants to volunteer. I know that I do have a few flaws in my writing hehe. Meanwhile, take my sincere applologies to any errors. I'm dyslexic so it's more than likely! Sometimes spell checker doesn't even work 100% of the time.
Anyway, enough rambling, I hope to see you all soon! Any suggestions or prompts are welcome for this story and what parts you'd like to see.
Merci,
Enigma.