A beautiful watercolour, coloured pencil, acrylic ink and airbrushed piece of Christine Daaé by Marcia Dye. It is based upon one of my Phantom of the Opera short stories - A Christmas Carriage Ride.
'There is a sudden groan and the matches tumble from my fingers. It comes again and I realise it is the low song of an organ. I glance all around, as if expecting the giant instrument to rise up in the cramped room.
The booming sound seems to surround me. My heart thrums in anticipation. I can barely hear it is so loud, and the vibration of it is like fingers on my flesh.
“Angel?” I believe I mutter, or do I only think it?
There is no answer. Is he angry with me? Or have I gone mad?
The music, the moment it feels it will close its hand and crush my heart, shifts, a creature sloping away. It goes outside and I follow. It is his footsteps I am stepping in. The sound is almost a shape, an embodiment, of my Angel.
Out of the chapel we go, down the foyer steps and to the entrance. Nobody else appears. Why is it only I can hear the organ? Surely, everyone has been awoken and will come running?
I dither at the doors leading outside. It will be far colder than the chapel. He has never taken me out of the opera house.
The notes crash together in warning, threatening. I put my hands to the doors and they effortlessly open, aided by a stronger, unseen force.
My slippers crunch over snow and icy water seeps in, making me yelp as my trembling worsens. I slide slightly, struggling to keep my balance.
Then the music stops. The presence is gone. He’s left me out here in the cold! I try the doors, but they are locked. I bang my fist against them, crying out for someone to help me.
“Angel,” I call, “let me back inside!”
No one comes. I am like a ghost, unseen and unheard. I will become one if I remain out here.
I have no coat, only wearing the thin, white dress I had chosen for this morning’s recital. Meg’s scarf can do little for my goose prickled arms and legs. I hug myself and wander around the building, hunting for an open window I can climb through.
The lamps have been lit, yet they seem unable to chase off the darkness. They are only bright pinpricks. The streets are empty. My footprints are alone in the snow.
For once, of all nights, the opera house is locked tight. They shall discover me in the morning, hunched up and frozen stiff in the doorway. My earlier jokes now frighten me. Meg! Won’t she wonder where I am and search for me?
My soul near leaps from my body at the clatter of hooves. A horse whinnies and mist flares as it snorts.
A pair of horses draw up, pulling with them a carriage that must have leapt out from the night sky. Their coats are as dark as the chestnuts I and the other chorus girls have cracked and eaten by the fire – oh, how I yearn to be by the fireside! – and thorn-less roses have been woven around their reins. Snowflakes shimmer in their manes.
The driver’s cloak sweeps up in the air as he dismounts. His top hat has been pushed down low and the collar turned up, so that I cannot see his face. I only catch his eye as he looks at me. The colour is piercing, as if he has shattered the chapel’s stained glass and plucked a green shard for his eye.
I take a step away, but before I can do anything the stranger bundles me into another cloak and lifts me into his arms. He carries me and thrusts open the carriage door. Yet, when I expect him to throw me in, he is gentle. Softly, he sets me upon the seat.
“Who are you?” I whisper.'
Not exactly the right season, it's actually quite nice here in Norfolk at the moment. However, this will be the first of many illustrations that will feature in an artbook collection. Most will be based upon stories in The Wedding Mask collection. Brand new Phantom of the Opera stories will also be included, from both Christine's and Erik's perspectives, with titles such as: What the Mirror Promises and The Stone Angel's Heart etc.
I also hope to have a video of Marcia Dye working on one of her Phantom of the Opera illustrations while I read my Pygmalion inspired Phantom/Christine story Clay, which was a favourite amongst readers.
Please subscribe, as this is where extracts, pencil drafts and works in progress will be posted first ;)
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