literature

Ou etes-vous, mon ange?

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Call-mE-aNGE's avatar
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Literature Text

She had waited patiently. She had tried.She had gone where she was told, did as she was told, and attempted to improve her voice on her own. She had strained her ears, each and every day, to hear the slightest sound that would give her the tiniest indication that her Angel was coming for her. But still she heard nothing.

And, despite everything, even the largest wells of patience run dry.She could not afford to give herself false hope any more. If she held on to her hope any longer, without result, she feared that she would go mad. Christine Daae sat up a little straighter.

"Papa was wrong. There is no Angel of Music." She sounded as if she were trying to convince herself, rather than stating a fact. Her brow furrowed at the appearance of a rather alarming thought. "Or, if there is I-" her voice broke, "I am not worthy of his appearance." She felt a tear roll down her face. Then another and another. Before she knew it she was sobbing hysterically. Not quite willing to let go of the only thing that had kept her alive and sane in the cruel world that she had been subjected to so suddenly. After a few minutes she hiccuped back to reality, telling herself that she was ready to let go. "I'm sorry Papa." she whispered. "The Angel of Music isn't coming to me." She hiccuped again, holding back more tears. "I love you Papa." She picked up the cameo of her father from her vanity and kissed it lightly. Then she put it back and carefully put out the gas lamps.

With the room in complete darkness she allowed herself to cry again. Finally letting go of her fathers final promise. Finally letting go of the childish dreams that she had harbored for so long. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness and she looked around her dressing room. Making sure that everything was in its proper place. The chorus was her life now and she was resigned to it. She would never soar. She would never reach the heavens with her voice. This little room was the only place that she could let her voice be what it willed. She turned and walked to the door.

Then she heard it.

Music.

It floated down to her from every corner of the room. A voice befitting the Angels Chorus. The voice caressed her ears, and lifted her heavy heart. It surrounded her with its majesty and promise. It didn't take her any time whatsoever to figure out what it was.

Her Angel of Music had finally come for her.
Not my best but... *shrugs*
This is my take on how the Angel finally came to Christine. From Christine's POV, rather than Erik's. I know that this has been done before, but I decided to do my own version. I have a feeling that she wouldn't have just sat around waiting patiently. Christine doesn't strike me as that kind of person.
She did agree to run off with Raoul; and turn the scorpion, even if it meant that she wouldn't see the world til her husband died...
C'mon this chick's got guts. Minimally. I can see her as one of those quieter women's lib people...
DevArt won't let me post the friggin punctuation in the title... grrr...
Christine and her Angel (c) Leroux
Writing (c) me.
© 2011 - 2024 Call-mE-aNGE
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HellenaS's avatar
It's perfect! You are good author!