Beth Winter

This is not one of my main Phantom of the Opera works, just a series of drabbles I dashed off to break a weird spell over the last week or so. Idle speculation abounds, style is lacking. Especially in the last drabble: between them Erik and Christine can outdo Anne Rice any time.

( Don't think about the way things might have been... )

Life continues to kick me. But I have other problems, too.

Opening line of current oeuvre:

"Paris was grey. The stones glistened in the rain like the bones of old gods, and chimney-smoke soiled the last survivors of the snowfields that had briefly bleached the city's face only weeks before. Water dripping from the edge of a roof to a balcony below rang out a funeral march."

I need to find a hammer and knock my new muse on the head ~_~ Erik, I know you're down and out and everything, but could you please try not to make me write like Anne bloody Rice?

EDIT

New version:

"Paris was grey. The stones glistened in the rain like frosted glass, and chimney-smoke soiled the last survivors of the snowfields that had briefly bleached the city only weeks before. Water dripping from the edge of a roof to a balcony below rang out a solo in three-eight time. Her companion was prone to translating everything into opera."

That's better. A bit.

First, in case any X people on my f-list missed it: Leareth posted an excerpt from the next chapter of X-Therapy ^_____^

In other news, Mike Carey needs to stop killing off people in Lucifer as soon as I get attatched to them. And Neil Gaiman's voice is lovely indeed.

I also saw Phantom of the Opera today. Gerard Butler? Was SO copying Antonio Banderas, especially in the Don Juan scene. He even did that little chin-bend Antonio does. And he pouted the same way. But unlike Antonio, he's not aware of the fact he can't sing. My poor ears :(