A Title Worthy of Praise
So I must admit, I was sitting in front of my computer, staring at the text document I had opened up, and I soon felt compelled to write a fanfic. But for what? I wrote to myself in question. And of course it dawned on me, Phantom of the Opera. Deep in my heart something died, it kind of sounded like a wailing cow eating a cat. I knew something ominous was forthcoming, but I wouldn't stop typing. I knew that bashing of any and all characters was going to spew forth, whether I wished it to or not. I also knew, that the tense in which I was writing would begin to get even more muddled and just utterly confusing the more I put off said fanfic. And of course, there would most likely be an obscene amount of sarcasm, if my writer's voice had anything to say about it. I took a deep breath and moved on to the next paragraph.
So down, down...
Down.
Down down down.
Down and more down,
past the mines of Moria-
There stood a calm, and slightly eerie, lake. Or pond. It was rather hard to tell because it was terribly dark down there--as would (and should) be expected. Of course, it was clear there was a lake because some light was there to reveal it, not very good light--but it isn't the 21st century in this story. So, the light was coming from a large group of candles, which stood in the lair--home I should probably say; of a... I guess you could say, eccentric man. I'm sure you are entirely aware of whom I am referring to.
Anyway, this poor unsuspecting figure was pounding the crap out of his organ. Interpret that as you will--with a blind passion in which he was entirely lost. He was practically drowning in it. In any case, I was referring to the sort of organ that produced music. Oh those notes echoed madly upon the stone walls of the cavern, home-ish, place in which he lived... And as the music reached its peak, there came a small wailing noise, and then some splashing--and then more wailing, mingled with coughing and splashing. Of course, the man didn't hear it over the ridiculous music he was making.This wailing coughing and so on was coming from the lake; which wasn't exactly the most unexpected thing in the world. In fact, this made perfect sense, because of the whole splashing thing. It continued on, for a few moments, and then the only thing that could be heard down there was the organ.
The eccentric man slowly came to a close in his music, and then he sat, looking drained and tired and whatnot. It was at this point, a mangy looking hobo made himself known.
"Hey!" he called out to the music man.
I was tired of referring to the phantom as some random guy at this point and decided to make things short by bringing his name into the story:
Erik whipped around quickly, shocked, and mildly disgusted, at the sight of a ragged looking hobo calling out to him. The hobo continued, having caught Erik's attention, "You wanna see a dead body?" he asked in his dirty old bum voice.
"what?" Erik countered, pretty much bewildered at this unlikely occurrence.
The hobo repeated himself, "You wanna see a dead body?"
"..." contemplated the phantom.
The hobo waited patiently.
"How..." Erik paused, "How did you get down here?"
The hobo didn't answer immediately, instead, he pointed at the convenient window I had created in one of the cavern walls. "Plot hole." the hobo said reasonably.
The phantom was thoroughly confused.
The hobo repeated his offer a final time, "You wanna see a dead body?"
Erik shrugged.
The hobo motioned for the phantom to follow him. So he did. At the edge of the lake the hobo pointed out the body lying face down in the water.
"Christine!" cried out the phantom.
The plot thickens... Ish.
Hey kids! This is my chance to goof off in writing, and so, it will be awful, I'm pretty sure.
Input, commentary and good grammar are all welcome should you feel the urge to write a review.
More to come! (And soon I should think.)