Just a little snippet... Just the preface, actually. I'm sure you don't mind, my two measly followers! ;P
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"He had a heart that could have held the empire of the world:
and, in the end, he had to content himself with a cellar."
The Phantom of the Opera
by Gaston Leroux
Death is not the end.
At least, not for Erik. For the Opera Ghost, it is only the beginning of a long and brutal journey toward redemption. It is not, as some might suggest, the end of life. Life is an ongoing cycle of one, singular pulse, beating throughout the Earth. It starts in the very hearts of the people: people dreaming, or wishing on stars. It starts with people dancing with those they love, laughing in times of sorrow, being brave in the face of danger.
No, death is not the end. Life goes on. It must, or else there would be no stories to tell, no songs to sing. There would be no happiness, no joy. Just misery and despair. Life cannot be filled with those things because then it is not life at all. It would be a hollow shell of what it should be. What it was.
Instead, life is a gift. When one ends, another begins.
This is where our story starts; or rather, where a previous story is continued. A life being lost. Now it is born again.
This is the story of the Phantom of the Opera. He is a man who could love the world ten times over, but never got the chance. A chance at love, peace, and happiness. He is a genius, a madman, a murderer. Some would even call him an angel.
This is the story of Erik.
For him, death is only the beginning.
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Ta ta for now!
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