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“You don’t believe in ghosts?”

  |     @cherubicalsongbird   |     HAUNTED MANSION PROMPT  ⟶ accepting.

                          GHOSTS,  such  a  name  !                  A  name  for  a  supernatural  being  that  proved  to  be  nothing  more  than  a  mere  memory.  There  are  things  Erik  believes  without  hesitation,  things  he  believes  with  a  steadfast  heat,  and  a  knowing  eye.  GHOSTS  are  not  one  of  them  —  for,  he  had  seen  death  walk  among  cobbled  streets,  and  had  firsthand  seen  a  woman  loose  herself  to  madness  when  she  thought  that  the  ghost  of  her  dead  child  was  the  one  screaming  in  the  night.  When  ?  Truly  it  was  nothing  more  than  the  howling  wind,  and  the  scratch  of  a  branch  upon  a  windowpane. “ GHOSTS  ? ”  The  word  sounds  ridiculous  as  it  rolls  off  tongue  with  the  slightest  bit  of  irritation  behind  it.  “ I  think  sometimes  Christine  you  take  me  as  some    macabre    creature  …  who  believes  that  ghouls,  and  things  that  go  bump  in  the  night  are  inexplainable. ”  HATES  THAT  SHE  DARED  TO  INTERRUPT  A  LESSON                 the  audacity  of  such  a  childish  question  !

                                                   YET,  he  has  worked  most  of  his  life  to  become  as  agile  as  a  spirit,  to  truly  move  around  the  living  world,  and  navigating  it  in  such  a  way  that  would  give  him  a  different  sort  of  freedom.  For,  the  occupants  of  the  Opera  House  call  him  PHANTOM  —  YES,  he  realizes  the  irony  of  it  all.  HYPOCRISY  at  it’s  best  as  he  then  goes  to  to  speak  once-more,  “ I  think  one  can  easily  allow  such  an  idea  to  manifest  in  head         a  way  to  deal  with  the  things  we  find  DISTURBING.  Though,  there  is  a  weakness  within  that,  that  idea  runs  away  with  you,  and  soon  ?  You  are  afraid  of  your  own  shadow.  Some  may  use  that  weakness  against  others  …  to  prove  just  how  dangerous  superstition  can  be. ”  

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      i truly love a fashion icon & a dramatic. 

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“Trespassers don’t get cookies!” im

      |     @phntasmas​   |     HAUNTED MANSION PROMPT  ⟶ accepting.

                                           She  is  the  daughter  of  a  woman  who,  had  extended  kindness  his  way.  Is  it  kindness  or  pity  ?  Oftentimes  he  finds  that  the  two  sometimes  intercede,  and  become  one.  Since  she  was  a  child  she  had  encroached  upon  his  time.  He  can  still  remember  the  stray  blonde  hairs  that  were  highlighted  by  dripping  candles  as  her  hands  crudely  ran  upon  piano  keys,  and  she  asked  him  to  play  some  childish  French  lullaby.  Erik  of  course  complying  as  nimble  fingers  flew,  and  his  angelic  voice  accompanied  notes.  Many  years  have  passed  since  she  was  that  same  naive  child                HE  WONDERS  IF  SHE  CAN  REMEMBER  SUCH  A  TIME.

                  “ Yet,  it  hasn’t  stopped  you.  Words  dry  as  he  strings  them  together  with  exhaustion,  I  believe  you  know  this  place  as  well  as  I. ”  Eyes  do  not  leave  sketchbook  as  his  fingers  hug  charcoal  pencil,  and  he  sketches  with  such  ease.  ERIK  A  TRUE  ARTIST.  She,  the  only  one  other  than  Christine  to  LEAVE  his  lair  with  her  life  intact, “ Am  I  to  take  this  accost  of  words  as  some  annoyance  ?”  Tone  low  as  he  works  in  a  most  meticulous  manner,  free  hand  reaches  for  a  compass.  “ Do  ALL    company     members  have  the  freedom  of  time  as  you  clearly  seem  to  possess.”  There’s  a  twinge  of  humor  that  slowly  finds  it’s  way  into  wording.  For,  he  knows  she  will  not  truly  be  upset,  the  two  of  them  always  at  a  liberty  to  speak  freely,  often  finding  they  get  along  QUITE  well  in  doing  so.  A  circle  drawn  with  compass  as  he  then  tosses  it  to  the  side,  and  head  cants  to  the  right  ever  so.  TRULY  evaluating  his work               ERIK  a  constant  critic.  Yes,  she  has  talent  for,  he’d  tolerate  her  less  if  she  was  mediocre.  Though,  he  never  took  too  kindly  to  INTRUDERS,  and  Meg  was  never  asked  to  enter  whatever  existence  of  a  life  that  he  had  managed to  drum  up.  

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Ernest Hemingway, The Snows of Kilimanjaro

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“These walls are filled with so many memories. Some of them painful.” *blows kiss* suffer

            |     @vandrnde      |     HAUNTED MANSION PROMPT  ⟶ accepting.

                               SHE  PICKS  A  MOST  DELICATE  MOMENT ,  akin  to  the  way  a  perfectly  placed  movement  is  written  upon  page.  It  is  there  for  the  pure  reason  of  BEING.  The  note  does  well  to  highlight,  yet  does  not  overwhelm                    THAT  is  the  secret  to  such  genius.  It  is  times  like  this  that  he  can  feel  his  heart  slowly  thaw  by  the  warmness  of  her  words.  He  is  grateful  that  she  does  not  offer  words  of  condolences  or  that  lip  does  not  tremble  when  he  shows  her  the  room  that  houses  what  little  past  he  has.  There  is  a  painting  of  his  mother,  his  perfect  almost  serene-like  mother. The  frame  so  elegant,  and  simple  in  it’s  design  as  it  sits  upon  a  bookshelf.  Eyes  give  it  the  once-over  as  he  nods,  “ Such  is  life    ,    full  of  unpleasant  occurrences,  she  was  beautiful  was  she  not  ? ”  Already  he  moves  to  a  shelf  fingers  dancing  over  the  spines  of  leather  bound  notebooks,  “ I  believe  she  thought  I  was  more  curse  than  child. ”  Voice  devoid  of  any  TRUE  feeling  as  he  gives  an  almost  bored  sigh.  “She  was  the  kind  of  woman  who  knew  she  could  have  a  man  fall  in  love  with  her  based  on  the  way  she  laughed  or  the  way  she  held  her  skirts  in  delicate  fingertips.  My  mother  despised  any  unpleasantness  …  being  with  child  was  nothing  short  of  a  laborious task. ”  

                                           FINDS  the  notebook  he’s  looking  for  as  it’s  taken  off of  shelf,  and  he  goes  through  pages.  All  the  meanwhile  talking  to  Christine,  “ She  was  never  meant  to  be  a  mother                  ”  eyes  then  going  to  flicker  to  the  picture  that  prettily  sits  in  frame.  PAIN,  it  is  a  feeling  that  he  has  learned  to  acquaint  with  pleasure.  Closes  the  notebook  as  he  then  hands  it  over  to  Christine.  “ I  do  not  fault  her  for  that,  she  was  selfish  as  so  many  of  us  are. ”

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vicmte·           !

DARKNESS HAS NO HOLD ON HIM.  Grotesqueness does not taint him.  His one tragedy - the death of his mother - did not touch him when he was only a baby then and completely ignorant.  And, after all, perhaps his mother has watched over him from heaven ever since, for his life can be said to be a charmed one.  Born to wealth and prestige, his aunt and sisters dote on him - spoil him even - and his brother takes him under his wing.  In his boyhood, he met Monsieur Daae and his daughter - Christine!  Little Lotte! - and had the best memories by the beach.  Then, he went on Requin and returned to honours.  

He may be innocent, but he is no simpleton.  He knows how many will envy all that he has that he did not have to work to earn.

This ghost, who hides from the world, of great intellect and profound talent.  Yet, he does not receive the accolades he deserves, and instead terrorises all who come to his domain.  That cannot be… correct.  Head flinches back when a voice booms from the void and caresses the air - a voice that will make any weep with its beauty!  Wretch!  ‘tis no wonder Christine has been so taken by him and thinks him an angel!  But though his voice is sweet, his words carry bite.

           “I make my peace with my God.            What of you and your deeds?”

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                                    How  the  other     REEKS     of  privilege,  and  duty ,  such  a   PUNGENT SMELL             !   How utterly  horrid  to  be  tied  to  such  societal  constrains;  to  live  and  breathe  a  life  that  seemed  totally  devoid  of  passion  or  pleasure.  There  are  carnal  acts  that  Erik  still  delights  in.  Let    NO  ONE    tell  you that  the  act  of  taking  another’s  life  is  anything  BUT  intimate.  For    you    are  the  one  who  is  granted  their  last  gasps,  prayers  that  are  uttered  in  an  attempt  to  save  their  soul.  DARKNESS  becomes  him  !  Death  a  lover,  and  night  more  friend  than  foe.  There  are  tales  he’s  heard  of  the  young  VICOMTE  accounts,  that  in  any  ordinary  setting  would  almost  seem  complimentary.  Is  THIS  the  man  who  has  made  a  bid  for  Christine’s  heart  ?  Oh,  he  smiles  at  the  irony  of  it  all.

                               The  shadows  do  well  to  shroud,  they  cling  to  his  body  as  his  voice  fills  the  halls  once  more.  “   God  ?  I  was  taught  from  a  young  age  that  there  is  no  FORGIVING  God,  whatever  God  there  is,  is  one  that  is  filled  with  vengeance,  and  breathes  spite.  For  who  would  watch  this  world  demise  the  way  it  does,  does  he  NOT  give  us  agony,  and  grief  to  make  us  stronger  ?  I  think  Vicomte  that  GOD  would  gladly  condemn  my  soul  to  hell,  and  eternal  damnation.  Yet,  wasn’t  I  made  in  his  image  ?  Who  are  we  to  say  that  heaven  and  hell  are  not  equal  parts  pleasure,  and  damnation.  To  walk  this  earth  alone  is  to  walk  between  those  two  worlds  …  trust  me  Vicomte  my  deeds  have  not  gone  unpunished.   ”  Timbre  melodic  as  it  swells,  and  gathers  in  tonality.  His  voice  could  bring  angels  to  their  knees,  and  make  a  sinner  a  saint.  

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The Haunted Mansion Sentence Meme

“Its love, isn’t it?”

“Every home we look at, you find something to pick at.”

“Would you like a divorce? ‘Cause I’ll bring you.”

“Your husband told me to tell you he loves you very much but sometimes he loses track of time.”

“It’s time I teach you how to kill a spider the right way.”

“What I’m trying to say is you should never be afraid. People know, they use that against you.”

“The master usually does not like visitors.”

“You got to be more patient.”

“Some people have pools. Some people have private cemetaries.”

“My grandfather spared no expense when he built this mansion.”

“This house is my inheritance. My birthright.”

“Do you believe in ghosts?”

“I’m afraid there will be no leaving the mansion tonight.”

“The only thing you seem to care about anymore is work.”

“You don’t believe in ghosts?”

“This house, it’s been in your family for generations. It’s your home. Why do you want to sell it?”

“These walls are filled with so many memories. Some of them painful.”

“Although it might be a bit worn and faded from its original grandeur, this home was once filled with so many things. So much life.”

“Hers is the story that haunts these walls.”

“Trespassers don’t get cookies!”

“If I had to listen to another word from that insufferable fool, I think I would have burst.”

“Is it really too much to ask for a little cooperation? A little order?”

“The final arrangements have been made.”

“I just had myself a little freak show back there.”

“Goblins and ghoulies from last Halloween, awaken the spirits with your tambourine.”

“I am seer of all, voice to the spirits.”

“There is great evil in this house. A devil’s curse. It seeks to destroy you.”

“Why would something seek to destroy me?”

“Dark spirits from the grave, come forth. Lift us from the black and show us. Show us the way back.”

“Dark spirits? Hey, no dark spirits!”

“Evil and darkness have fallen this night, but now to survive you must gain new sight.”

“Only the light will lead the way.”

“You can’t help the dead, honey. They’re beyond help.”

“We have to help them break the curse.”

“She was in love with the heir to the mansion and he loved her more than life itself.”

“Without hope, without love, without her, he hung himself.”

“His soul wanders these halls, waiting for her to return.”

“If you listen carefully, you can still hear the beating of his broken heart.”

“Do not be deceived. All things are not as they appear.”

“For the curse to be lifted, the truth must be known.”

“When they died, they couldn’t find the light.”

“This was to have been her wedding dress.”

“To love someone so much and then lose them so suddenly, I can’t imagine how awful that must be.”

“If you truly love someone they never leave you. They remain in your heart forever.”

“I studied Latin for three years. You thought it was dumb, remember?”

“Beware all who enter. Here lies the passage to the dead.”

“It’s okay to get scared. Everybody gets scared nod and then. You just can’t let it stop you.”

“Find the thing that must be read lest your heart be filled with dread.”

“She didn’t kill herself. She wanted to be with him.”

“I must say, I’m impressed. You are more persistent than I would have ever imagined.”

“The butler did it? You got to be kidding me.”

“He had everything in the world and yet he was willing to throw it all away for love.”

“Running away with that girl would have destroyed this house. It would have destroyed everything.”

“Life, I’m afraid, is such a delicate state.”

“The house has waited so long to have its shroud of darkness lifted.”

“Do you believe that love is about second chances? About forgiveness?”

“Now you’ve returned to me and at long last, we can be together.”

“You were my world, my life! And I have loved you in death as I did in life.”

“Search your heart. I am your one true love.”

“He’s expecting you. He’s always been expecting you.”

“You don’t really think I’m going through with this madness?”

“There are worse things than purgatory, I can assure you.”

“The only true failure is when you stop trying.”

“Was love my mistake?”

“I have waited so long for this moment and now only Heaven awaits.”

“Angels in Heaven, together at last.”

“Love endures all, no reason, no rhyme. It lasts forever and forever all time.”

“Be sure to bring your death certificates.”

“If you decide to join us, make your final arrangements now.”

“We’ve been dying to have you.”

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                    OUT.  ! so, i’ve decided to bring back erik that being said ! i will be low activity, and just sort of reaching out for plots / writing partners. i’m going to go through my blog & clean it up, and give Erik a somewhat decent theme for the time being !!! i’ll for sure post a fresh new promo, and post a starter call I WANTED to play a spooky muse for halloween && i miss erik with all my heart. we’ll see how it goes ! thank you guys so much for sticking around <3 ilysm. 

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The Phantom of the Opera is here

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🖤

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CHRISTINE                 !

    BREATH LODGES IN HER THROAT ,  oh ,  a soft exhalation of breath elicited as one stroke of the bow upon the strings and the melody unfurls , resonating upon cavernous walls , caressing her heart.  oh ,   the inclination of her heart rate how it hammers against the porcelain aviary of her ribcage.  they are hymnals of divinity , they well within her chest and it is bursting , threatening to tear at the seams and crack glass bones with such profound emotion stirring and concocting.   storing  ,  storing into her bosom. the rise and fall ,  her breathing in tempo with a song which prods at her memory , it tarries along  , it waltzes slowly in a fluid dance to his playing.  so dextrous , so elegant in each slide.   infatuation nestles within  ,  her eyes wide and luminous with rapt fascination as the hymnals of divinity welcome the angels to come out of their hiding , to loom around her.  to embrace her and welcome her back into a world where she so long was locked of , the garden’s gates locked  &  death which wielded the key.  this is what she recalls  :   this is what she remembers.  an excited yet terrified child in a new setting , a father asking what she thought of the show and he taking his violin to play his euphonious songs unbeknownst to the sickness which deteriorated him from the inside ,  he with feigned smiles to spare her of any pain.   (   I KNOW SO MUCH OF PAIN NOW PAPA.  IT IS AN OLD FRIEND WHO WILL NEVER DEPART.  I SMILE TOO JUST LIKE YOU.  I SMILE AND WINCE IN SECRECY..    just like you.    )   

RED RIMMED ,  THE STING AT THE WHITES OF HER EYES  &  THE SCORCH OF MEANDERING TEARS.  it is a torrent which cannot be ebbed , cannot be contained.  in silence she watches with mute astonishment.  her lips pressed ,  corners ascended into a gracious smile as the tears roll down languidly in their poetic time.  this is unfair ,  oh this is unfair , it is moments such as these she sees her angel who slowly begins to redeem his wings and halo.  fallacy long renounced , yet he wears it so easily , so easily he can slip it on like a second skin .  so easily he can dispose of it an don something so sinister.  NO YOU MUSTN’T THINK IT CHRISTINE.   tragedy flows through both your veins , it infiltrates you blood.  yours is of nectar. his is poison.  he speaks of a heart he possesses to be  so cold.    (   oh but you thaw for me.  do you  ?   your stone veneer crumbles for me. whether you admit to it or not.    )    sorrow , felicity , bereavement ,  nostalgia ,  OH WHAT A COMBINATION laden in her soul  ,  if she closed her eyes would father be there playing alongside him  ?  a duet.  the man who took the role which went unfulfilled and a father so missed she yearns for just one more goodbye , one more bark of his laughter. one more , just one.  

       MELODIES TRANSITION INTO SILENCE.   she remains statuesque ,  hugging her knees close watching the violin which she held such an amalgam of emotions.  one touch , only one would bring her to tears and have her sob.  yet the idyllic melodies are something she craved.  none played as heavenly as her father.  except , now ,  for one.  a beat passes ,  an exception of momentary sniffles and her soft suspires a rustle of wind.  standing from her spot and advancing toward him with no warning , no prelude to what she would do next  :  just an embrace.  slipping arms around his torso and pressing herself into his chest   ❛   thank you.   ❜    she whispers it , a mantra into sodden material caused by her own tears.    ❛    oh  ,  thank you.     ❜     for reviving him not upon earth , but in my heart.

                                               Her  arms  entrap  him  so,  as  if  to  ensure  that  he  mustn’t  move;  as  if  she  was  his  anchor,  and  he  the  helpless  ship  upon  tempestuous  waters.  The  feeling  is  foreign,  it  is  suffocating,  and  it  threatens  to  sink  him  right  then  and  there.  The  most  he  can  offer  is  the  placement  of  a  gloved  hand  upon  the  small  of  her  back  as  it  almost  PLEADS  with  her  to  let  him  free.  A  feeling  so  accurately  conveyed  as    Christine  allows  her  arms  to  fall  from  torso,  and  she  gives  him  the  means  to  govern  self  once more.  Though  hands  do  not  rush  to  pull  down  the  shirt  that  she  had  so  creased  with  her  body  pressed  against  his  own.  For,  he    LIKED    the  sort  of  imprint  she  left  upon  crisp  white  shirt,  a  remembrance  that  poised  no  threat.  A  hand  reaches  out  as  if  to  ensure  that  she  never  presses  her  body  against  his  so,  as  if  this  could  possibly  shield  him  from  the  one  thing  he  fears  the  most.  ❛❛ He  was  the  kind  of  man  that  I  could  respect,  his  love  of  violin  made  it  so.  It  was  if  in  that  moment  he  embodied  every  note  that  escaped  his  capable  hand.  He’d  not  only  convey  whatever  the  composure  wished  to  get  across,  he’d  make  the  audience  fall  in  love.  Almost  as  if  one  breathed  you’d  break  the  spell  that  he  had  so  seamlessly  cast.  ❜❜

                           STOPS  himself  cold  as  he  fears  that  he’s  revealed  too  much,  allowed  Christine  to  see  the  man  that  lays    TRULY    behind  mask.  The  best  Erik  can  do  is  ignore  whatever  conversation  he  had  offered  before,  and  do  away  with  the  instrument  that  lays  upon  table.  Digits  lift  the  instrument  as  he  tucks  it  safety  away.  He  does  not  ENVY  their  kind  of  attachment.  The  kind  of  attachment  that  seemed  more  borne  out  of   NEED   than  anything  else.  He  loves  her  yet,  he  will  never  aptly  convey  such  a  feeling,  instead  he’s  quick  to  remember  their  rightful  stations.  ❛❛  You  must  get  back.  ❜❜  Timbre  sure  as  he  turns  towards  door,  ❛❛  I  have  long  been  awaiting  your  absence.  ❜❜  It  stings,  the  words  so  undoubtedly  true  as  he  wishes  that  he  could  offer  words  of  comfort.  Words  to  wrap  around  her  very  being  as  they  acted  like  a  cloak,  and  made  her    SURE    of  his  intentions.  Offers  a  hand  from  room  to  lake  as  he  licks  lips,  ❛❛  I  will  never  be  undone  by  love  Christine  —  that  notion  is  lost  on  me.  You  have  become  instrumental  to  my  existence  yet  ?  I  do  not  know  the  way  to  convey  such  a  thing.  I  find  even  now  as  I  hold  your  hand  within  my  own  that  I  fear  being  strangulated  by  your  mere  presence.  I  hate  what  you  do  to  me  …  with  every  fiber  of  my  being.  ❜❜  

[rosesired-blog]

°◦  ♔  ——   ❝  primadonna your   song   shall never   die   !   ❞

                                                              ©

[rosesired-blog]

icb erik is the lost dinsey prince :///

[rosesired-blog]

Past the point of no return, the final threshold The bridge is crossed, so stand and watch it burn We’ve passed the point of no return

[rosesired-blog]

my fav thing : someone serving bleach with eriks cereal ...  erik : what a pungent taste erik : ... erik : you thought ?