(Phantom's POV)
The moment I left Emmy's dressing room, I felt my heart pounding out of my chest. She had actually allowed me to touch and kiss her hands! Christine would have never allowed that, but Emelia...oh, she is such a sweetheart! Absolutely perfect!
I rushed through my hidden corridors, madly. For the first time in years, I felt new music rushing through my head and veins that I just had to write down. It was all so unnerving, and the way she blushed every time I spoke to her and solely her...It all makes my heart melt!
The moment I had made it across that grueling lake, I rushed to my organ and began scrawling furiously the notes on the sheet music which came to my mind. Each note meant more to me as I went and as soon as the
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If he saw how uncomfortable I was in this position, he would start singing a lullaby to me so I didn't have to deal with this. I sighed and glanced at the mirror.
"Criminy, you've been apart of this opera since age four! That is most impressive." Masson had a very impressed look on his face.
"Yes, impressive. Tell me, who is the Prima Donna?" Tromper interjected, irritating me slightly, he seems to be like a rude man.
"The current Prima Donna is La Carlotta Giudicelli."
"I thought it was you, based off of that wonderful performance this evening. Are you sure?" I smiled at Masson's comment.
"Believe me, I am quite sure. That performance would not exist, though, had it not been for the Angel of Music visiting me." Just thinking about him made me feel weak at the knees.
"Angel of Music?" Masson seemed very intrigued based on this statement.
"Emelia!" Madame Giry snapped at me bringing him up.
"No, Madame, I would like to hear what she has to say!" Tromper leaned forward. "This doesn't have anything to do with the supposed Phantom of the Opera, does it?"
"Uh, no...in fact, I really just learned about the Opera Ghost today. But the Angel of Music has basically raised me singing. He has been my tutor for as long as I can remember!" Suddenly there was a knock at the
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"...solo tonight. You know, the one who you kept saying had the voice of an Angel." Tromper glared at Masson for interrupting him.
"Really...you mean...Mademoiselle! I apologize for my behavior a few moments ago!" He stammered and I snickered at his idiocy.
"No apology is necessary." I lied and I could tell Erik knew by the shift in the air. "I had lovely conversation with you all, but I believe it is time for me to retire, the Angel is very strict."
Madame Giry glared daggers at my comment, and I had to withhold my smile. The managers-to-be looked at me as though I was insane, speaking of Angels of Music. I merely turned to walk out.
"Wait, perhaps the Monsieur could go to protect you!" I could tell Tromper was trying to set us up.
"Lovely idea!" Madame Giry smiled brightly.
"Perhaps he can protect you from this supposed Opera Ghost." Tromper added with jest.
My cheeks burned bright red, whether with anger or embarrassment, I knew not. Jean Luc only shrugged and offered me his arm. I let out a sigh and allowed him to lead me out of the dressing room, in which the managers and Madame Giry prepared to
“Take me to the next town. I don’t care where it is. Just take me there.” The girl whispered, shivering and sopping wet from the rain.
His demeanor lifted for a brief moment as he recalled something, before shifting back to his previously interrupted, confrontational speech. “Worse still, you don’t even have a day’s experience in patrol, and you’re looking to
“Hey, you!” said a voice far down in the hallway. “So you’re the new girl, huh?”
I am Helena of Athens and looking back at my actions that night in the woods, I can say I was a complete fool. I’m was a fool for betraying my best friend, for chasing after Lysander, and I’m was a fool for wearing such uncomfortable shoes for running in the woods. I still have blisters on my feet from that day. My utter disregard of my friendship with Hermia and her happiness was disgusting. I know nothing can really explain why I would do such a thing
“You don’t know me.” My voice sounded as unsteady as his stance. He shrugged as he chuckled; the laughter turned my blood cold. He seemed to know something I did not.
He smiled. "That is from the 'Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock.' Here's another one. 'In the room the women come and go/Talking of Michael Angelo.' Does that suggest anything to you, sir?"
There I am lying, I am awoken by a bright shimmering, yet quite bothering light, I slide to my right to find my angelic husband Demetrious, he was breathing softly and faintly, I wrap my arm around him onto his buff body, and his eyes stare at me gracefully, I come to acceptance and find myself thinking how this happened, from hopeless back then, to happiest I could be, and all because of one man, he made me feel gloomy like when we first met, his eyes would affectionately stare deep into your eyes. His bright personality brightened up my day, that one special day, the most beautiful day of day, it was a sunny, warm yet quite balanced day, everything was going normally, then carelessly out the corner he came, Demetrious, and one problem was that he liked my hearty, hysterical good friend Hermia. Hermia had a generous and gentle personality, she had beautiful eyes and I was very fondly jealous of her, she got all the cute, boys that I always admired, yet one day things unexpectedly turned the other way around.
Cinderella Hi I'm Anastasia the ugly step sister well.. I'm not really ugly it's my sister that is but we'll get into who I am later in the story. Once upon a time there was a beautiful girl named Cinderella but everyone calls her Cindy. My dad named King Andres has been seeing her mom named Derella for almost two years now and she really likes him.
I opened the box and looked at the soft velvet casing. The freshly polished wood of my instrument glittered golden brown in the evening sun. I reached for it and picked it up. The usually very light instrument seemed to weigh more than I could ever remember. I walked in a straight line up the side of the church building. I passed the graves of many of the dead as I made my way to the door.
"You're right, brother. I messed up," he admitted. His words weren't an apology but a fact. He'd been a fool to believe there would be something going on between the doppelgangers.
“I apologize again, but I am Demetrius,” he introduced while gesturing to shake his hand.
Blanche Dubois, a refined and delicate woman plagued by bad nerves, makes her first appearance in scene one of A Streetcar Named Desire by Tennessee Williams. She unexpectedly arrives in New Orleans to visit her sister Stella Kowalski who ran away after their father’s death. Upon their reunion, Blanche is sharp-tongued and quick to state her shock over the unsavory status of the apartment in comparison to the luxurious plantation where the two sisters were raised. Though dissatisfied by the living conditions, Blanche quickly explains that she had been given leave of absence from her teaching position due to bad nerves and could not stand being left alone—her excuse to invite herself to stay with Stella for an undetermined period of time. It
The grass was soft and green, reserved for those who wanted to lie down or sit. A sweet aroma of flowers overflowed near by like s shinning light, but was hidden by the untrimmed bushes and wildly growing trees. Up above me was the beautiful, high noon blue sky spotted with fluffy, white clouds and airplanes flying by. I emerged into the parking lot and stopped happily as a squirrel under a tree. Hesitating to proceed anywhere further I took a few minutes to treasure the moment of silence and peace. As my girlfriend and I got out of the car to get ready for the picnic, she happened to be distracted by the water; a rhythmic ongoing resemblance of rhythm in her heart. The water was clam and beautiful in every aspect. To me she was like a wave, never stooping to catch attention or go unnoticed. Before doing anything else, we began setting up the picnic. By the time we ware done, her temptation was unbearable and was finally unable to overcome it, consequently she eagerly ran towards the water pulling me right behind her. Each step was like an imprint in my heart, a fossil that would always remain the same and special inside me forever.
...g that smile. Is he going to leave now? I stop kicking the floor and sit up, watching him. But instead of walking over to the door, he stands up and walks towards the piano. I stand up and follow him anxiously, almost certain he knew my secret.