Description: what would happen if Erik's spirit got transported to another body after he died? What if the original owner of the body was still alive inside it? What if the original owner of the body was a fourteen year old girl from our time? Read and find out. Not a Mary-Sue!
Author's note: Hi everyone! First of all, this is my first fic so please forgive me for all grammar mistakes, holes in the plot, run on sentences and any other annoying things that might pop up in this story. I'm also a procrastinator so there will be long periods of time with no updating-ness. If I don't update in over a month just send in some sort of review or e-mail telling me that it's been five hundred years since the last chapter and I need to get my butt over to the computer and do some writing.
Special thanks to anyone who reviews this or people that can't send reviews because they don't have accounts but still read it loyally. Except flames. If you hate this story enough to flame it just don't read it. Please.
Oh yeah, and if a character speaks or thinks in italics, it means it's the spirit living in their body rather than the body's original owner. I know, sounds creepy right? It's not. Only a little bit.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything fan fiction authors normally don't own.
And now, I give you...
It happened on a more or less normal day. Well, not exactly normal, the heat in my home town of Detroit was sky rocketing. A bunch of people think that since Michigan borders the lake, it's always cooler there than every where else. Believe me, its not, not where I live. Not the day it happened.
I was with Sandy. Good old Sandy. She and I were, like, instant best friends when we met at age eight. We had been inseparable for the last five, no, six years. There had even been a few rumors the previous year that we were lesbians and dating. And a couple that I was secretly a guy and hitting on her which, for your information, I am not. Sometimes it was a little bit hard being friends with her because she was so popular and I was so...not. The worst part was when she tried to get me to hang out with her popular friends because she thought we would hit it off, like she was that day. Don't get me wrong, they're perfectly nice people, not like the preps and valley-girls you see on TV, we just have really different personalities.
We-by that I mean Sandy, her friend Lola, and I-were taking advantage of the fact that Sandy's house was air-conditioned and watching TV in her living room. I think it was Dr. Phil. Doesn't matter, I wasn't watching anyway. I was kind of spacing out, that is until my attention was grabbed by a cold tremor shaking my body. It's a really weird feeling having a spirit that's not your own enter your body, it was as if an icy-cold hand had reached inside me and ran its fingers slowly down my spine. Creepy huh?
I shivered and grabbed the blanket that was lying next to me one the couch, throwing it around my shoulders. As you can imagine, that earned me two awkward stares seeing as it was ninety-nine degrees outside.
Suddenly, my hand flew to my face. Only I hadn't told it to. My arm had just moved without any meaning or purpose, without my even knowing why. And then, this thought lurched into my head. But it wasn't my thought, it was as if someone else had thought it but it had popped into my head. The thought was this: why wasn't I wearing my mask? And then I got another thought, this one my own: why was I wondering why wasn't wearing a mask?
But this other thought, the one that wasn't mine, got so desperately over-powering that I blurted out "Where is it?" And then the real, non-possessed, me blurted "why did I say that?"
For those of you who haven't guessed this, not being the only spirit in your own body can be unbelievably confusing. I was at a loss, and even us nerds, who embarrass ourselves on a daily basis, don't enjoy being humiliated so I came up with an excuse to get out of any normal human beings' presence. I managed to cough out "uh, I gotta get home, Sandy. My mom always thinks something bad happened to me if I'm out for more than two hours. Thanks," between quiet sulks that weren't mine about my mask and some opera house and other things that didn't make sense.
She frowned in confusion. She had a right to be, I usually act insane but not that insane, even when I'm high. "But it's only been an hour and a half" she pointed out.
"Right. Well, I better go, just to be safe. How on earth did I get here? Just pretend I didn't say that last part okay?"
"Okay. Bye, Berly." she mumbled, obviously still confused.
I stumbled out the door, still muttering against my will and started to walk home. "Okay, that didn't just happen," I reassured myself, "I am perfectly sane, I do not wear a mask regularly, and I know nothing about operas!"
at the same time, my, uh, other self, the one that had been wondering about the mask was getting frustrated with me. "Obviously, your thoughts are not the only ones filling this head. At the same time, you do wear a mask regularly, you are an expert on operas and you are not sane at all" it told me.
I realized that I was talking to myself and lowered my voice to a whisper. I gave up, I believed the voice in my head and managed to convince myself that there was another person's thoughts in my head. It was easier than trying not to believe it. "Alright then. Who are you and what are you doing in my brain?" I said to thin air.
"My name is Erik. I am more commonly known as the Opera Ghost or the Phantom of the Opera" he said back. My head swam, I almost swooned. I had the Phantom of the freaking Opera talking to me in my head! "As for why my thoughts are in your head I can only guess," he went on, "the last thing I remember was dying. It could well be that my spirit or ghost has entered your body. Or yours has entered mine."
'Well that's not weird at all' I thought sarcastically, 'I get fictional characters talking to me in my head every week.'
'Fictional' he thought back.
'Well normally, when you see a movie about something as likely to be true as Sandy being the devil, you assume it's fiction.'
'And who is Sandy?'
'The girl that was in that house back there. The blonde.'
'I see. Well whatever you believe, I am , or was, very real.'
'Either that or I'm completely insane'
"I've told you who I am. Now who are you?" he asked me out loud, ignoring my observation.
"Well, I'm a fourteen-year-old girl living in America," at this point I could feel his disappointment and frustration that I was a girl and a child, I didn't blame him. I almost cracked a smile as I tried to imagine Erik dealing with my problems: cramps, pimples, periods and other horrors caused by puberty. Since he could see my thoughts, he knew this, his frustration deepened.
"The girl in the other house, Sandy, called you by Berly."
"It's short for Beverly. Beverly Redmond." I, no, we walked in the door of my house. It wasn't even my legs doing the walking anymore, they were our legs. I stumbled into my room feeling a little bit sick.
"Can you play music?"
"Just the piano." I glanced at the piano sitting in the next room.
"And what do we look like?" he asked as I stumbled us into my room. Our room now, I guessed.
In answer to his question, I turned to face the mirror I had hanging on the wall above my dresser. I waited as he took in my, wait, our relatively long legs, our tangled brown hair, and our curves (which I was not proud of in any way, in fact, I had been anorexic for a few months a couple years back, it was my little sister, May that talked me out of it).
I noticed how he made a point of avoiding looking at our face. I figured it was a habit. I still had some control of where my eyes looked though, I looked directly at the reflection of our face in the mirror. Couldn't hurt. Grey eyes, kind of big nose, lots of freckles. I was no beauty, that was for sure, but I wasn't terribly ugly either. We didn't smile but I knew he was glad.
He looked at the tank-top and short shorts we were wearing with disapproval. 'Are these the sort of things all females wear here?' he asked through thoughts.
'Yes, actually' I thought back.
'I refuse to wear cloths such as these in or out of public'
'Alright then. What will you wear?' I decided to try and be flexible with the situation, which was not something I normally did. I'm usually a stubborn little prick. Or so my sixth grade history teacher liked to call me.
It took an hour of digging through my closet for Erik to find something that he found tolerable. He had it laid out on my bed and was thinking that perhaps it really wasn't suitable and he should probably look farther through my things for something better. It was an outfit of indescribable nerdy-ness. My mom had picked it out for me the year before because it had been on sale. It had never been worn.
"I am not wearing that" I said out loud. Along with hearing/seeing his thoughts, apparently I could feel his emotions too, he was surprised that I had refused him. Apparently very few people did that. I was pretty surprised my self, I'm not usually the assertive type. I'm usually the type that sits quietly in the corner, wishing they were the assertive type.
Since he could feel my emotions and thoughts as well as I could feel his, he knew that. "I'm curious. What gives you the courage to refuse somebody such as me knowing that it will most likely end regretfully for you?" he asked coldly.
We were whispering for the simple reason that we didn't want people to think that we were a freak who talks to herself. We didn't have to owing to the fact that we were home alone, but it was probably a good idea to get into the habit of not letting people catch us in a conversation (or argument). Just to be safe.
"You can't do anything to me. We're one and the same now; whatever you do to me, you do to yourself too." I was proud of myself, I usually never caught on to things like that.
I could feel his frustration. He knew I was right.
So there it is, chapter one. Hope you all liked it. I know, it's not the best but I promise it'll get better as it goes on. Reviews make me feel special. NO FLAMES PLEASE, PLEASE!!