White Mask

February 28, 2012
The Meeting

I knew he was going to be ugly. I’ve heard the stories. But when I saw him, I was completely shocked. He walked out to me when I called “Is anyone here?” I stumbled back by the hideousness of his face

The right side of his face was entirely deformed. It was red, and irritated, and stretched over his bones.

His piercing yellow eyes store into my light blue ones as he asked “Who are you?”

I ignored his question, and asked one of my own in a trembling voice. “Are…are you Erik? The Phantom of the Opera?”

He sighed at my question “Yes, and who are you?” he asked again.

“Meg,” I answered. “Meg Giry.”

“Giry?” he asked. “Your mother is a box keeper, is she not?”

“Yes, how do you know her?” I wondered.

“She was a friend to me long ago. She’s the only person I can trust.” He informed me. “What are you doing down here?”

“I don’t know.” I told him as I shook my head.

“What do you mean?”

“I was just walking around,” I explained “and somehow I got here.”

“I see.”

“Why did you kidnap Christine?” I asked breaking the awkward silence. He turned his head away in shame. “Why?”

“Don’t say that name.” He told me while he started to walk away.

“Why not?”

“Please, just leave.” He ordered and walked to his bedroom.

“Wait!” I called and ran after him.

I walked in, and I saw him. He just sat there. He listened to his music box that had a monkey on top of it dressed in Persian robes playing the cymbals. He sat there in front of it and cried. I took pity on him. I walked to him, and he rested his head on my lap. He started to cry harder.

I combed through his unruly black hair. I tried to keep my hands away from the bald deformed part of his head. But it was hard because he had the right side of his face up towards me.

“Once, I accidentally brushed my fingertips on it. He and I both gasped. It didn’t feel like how I expected. I thought that it was going to feel hot and dry. But it was smooth, like the skin wasn’t there, and I just touched bone. It also was stone cold, as if it were dead.

I ran my hand down his head, and he closed his eyes relaxed by my touch. I started to rub the edge of his forehead where his eyebrow should have been. My fingers crawled down to his cheek bone, and I began to rub it. My fingers swayed back and forth, from left to right. I felt his smooth cold skin. I started to trace his jaw line; when I remembered, that I had practice for the opera that night.

I carefully slid Erik’s head from my lap. He looked so innocent in his slumber. I almost felt sorry for his misfortune. I gave Erik on last look Then turned my head, and left to go to the opera.


I returned to Erik. Every other day I went down below the opera house to visit him. Each time it was only to talk, but somehow I found a way to place my hand on his peculiar face. Each time I put my hand on his face I always feared that it would be my last. But he didn’t lash out. He accepted me. He even sung in front of me once. His voice was beautiful. I tried to imagine that he was singing for me.

Once, he played a song from an opera I knew. I’m not sure what the song was called, but I had danced to it once when the opera put on Othello. He was coming up to the part when Desdemona, the girl part, was supposed to sing. So I walked up behind him and began to sing. He jerked his hands off the keys.

“Don’t!” he shouted at me, and then ran to his room.

I stood there by his organ for an hour, and waited for him to come back out to me. I knew that if I went in after him it would only enrage him. So I waited.

“Please, just leave.” He shouted from his room. I sighed, and walked out.

The Kiss

I came back the day after, and noticed that Erik didn’t seem so depressed. In his eyes it looked like there was meaning again. I smiled at him, and I felt the need to see his whole face. I walked over to him, and took his mask off. He was use to me taking off his mask, so he closed his eyes and sighed.

I cupped the right side of his face with my hand, and I noticed that he didn’t look normal. He almost looked handsome. I smiled at his peaceful expression. I leaned in towards him, and kissed him lightly on the lips. He pulled back, his eyes wide open. He stared at me. I smiled and kissed him again, and that time he didn’t pull away.

Being Used

My eyes fluttered open, but I only saw darkness. They adjusted to the dark, and I noticed that I was in Erik’s bed. I poked my head out of the sheets, and peered out his door way that looked on to the underground lake.

I smiled and looked to my left where I saw Erik, who lay beside me. He stared off into space. I kissed his cheek, and he shook his head.

“I love you.” I told him. It came to me as a shock, but after I said those words I knew they were true. I truly loved Erik. “You know that don’t you?”

Erik looked down at me, his face filled with guilt, grief, and sadness. I stared back at him, and hoped for an answer.

“Erik, you know that, don’t you?” I asked again. Erik didn’t reply. He turned his gaze away from mine, and those lovely yellow eyes glazed over in thought again. “You love me, don’t you, Erik?” he remains silent.

I felt the hot tears begin to form in my eyes. They fell down my cheeks, and left a wet trail behind them. “Erik?” I asked yet again in a hoarse whisper.

“No.” he got out of his bed, and began to walk towards the door. “Now, please, just leave this place. I don’t want to see you here again.”

He stormed out of the room. I just say there on the edge of his bed, to petrified to move. I bit my lip, and, eventually, I got up out of his bed.

I walked out of his room, and saw him next to his organ. His back was faced towards me. I opened my mouth to say something to him, but only a gust of air came out.

I turned from him, and wiped my tear stained face with the back of my hand. With my head hung low, lowing at my feet, I walked up to the main floor of the Opera House in shame.

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