erikthephantom

Three weeks past, and Erik was notm to be found. The Persian tried tracking him through Paris, even checking for the le Rue de Scribe, which appently didn't exist. It was exactly three weeks and two days after the first performance when the Persian was eating a quiet supper in his small dwelling near central Paris and he heard a knock on his door. Swallowing the lump of bread in his mouth, he walked to the door. He could not see anyone outside the window, but he opened the door anyways. There... Read Full Chapter

Three days later, at eight thrity in the evening, the Persian walked into the newly opened opera house. Inside, a celebration took place. The new owner, an old man who the Persian did not recognize, was giving a speech to the patrons of the show. When he finished, everyone applauded madly. The Persian took care to look the crowd up and down. He could hardly believe he had managed to get a private box, now that he looked at the filthy rich patrons. The women all wore long fine silks and the me... Read Full Chapter