Writing, Role Play, and Musings

                                 THE OPERA GHOST REALLY EXISTED.           NEITHER ANGEL NOR PHANTOM, BUT A MAN WHO ONLY EVER WANTED TO BE LOVED.

There is a story of a man. Only whispers now, but a story nonetheless. As immortal as the music which flows through the very words, slips through the storyteller’s teeth like honey, entrancing all who might listen. The story tells of a man who sold his soul so his music might live forever. Bargained with the devil, both thinking themselves slick, the corners of two mouths upturned with the crooked satisfaction of one about to seize the chessboard from his opponent. His music, the shadow croons, will be all he is ever loved for. 

Only a story now, of course, ancient as the cobbled streets of the city of light. But now, somewhere in Paris, is a man bent over a once pristine set of ivory now drenched in crimson. He weeps, and the ache he feels in his soul might once have inspired others to weep for him. But the city is burning, and the inferno which now blazes around him is all his own doing. 

               THERE IS SOME MUSIC SO TERRIBLE THAT IT CONSUMES ALL WHO APPROACH IT.

This story does not begin here, however. No, the downfall of the Angel of Music comes at the very end. This is not the Phantom you know, and this is not his Paris. As the man in the mask looks down on his theatre, a war wages on below. Gunfire echoes in the dressing rooms as often as arias, silken costumes torn through lie among ill-gotten gains and fallen loyalties. Two opposing organizations, each thinking they have sole claim to Le Théâtre de Nuit. This, my dear friends, is where our opera begins.

               ❝  DESTINY HAS                                      CHAINED YOU TO ME                                                                             F O R E V E R. ❞

i am a friend (cil 4.7351a)

narcissus, narcissus was horny here, narcissus was horny here (cil 4.8785

i fucked here on august 14th and 21st (cil 4.4260)

this very doofy camel:

let the bears devour me (cil 4.10656)

a guy riding a deer:

you are a great big dick (cil 4.6641)

(in a line of iambic poetry) when an old man lies back, his balls cover his crack (cil 4.4488)

(in a dining room) i buggered six people here (cil 4.4520)

what (no, literally, that’s all it says. same, buddy) (cil 4.10563b)

this sexy lady:

secundus shits here, shits here, shits here (cil 4.3146)

phoebus the perfumer had a great fuck here (cil 4.2184)

here placidus fucked whatever man he wanted (cil 4.2265)

(at an inn) vibius restitutus slept here alone and really missed his urbana (cil 4.2146)

chius, i hope your hemorrhoids open up again so that they burn worse than they’ve ever burned (cil 4.1820)

pyrrhus to his colleague chius: hello! i’m quite upset because i heard that you are dead. so, bye (cil 4.1852)

whoever is in love ought not to take hot baths, for no one can love flames when he has been burned (cil 4.1898) 

Mythology Around the World: Common Themes: