Tag Archives: Wings of desire

Wings of desire (3)

For the first time, he saw traces of fear in her eyes. And yet, she stood before him, unflinching, brave. Questioning his horrible words, his horrible soul.

-I don’t think you could hurt me -she simply said, but he caught the faint quiver of her lower lip.

-You don’t know me… you don’t know what I’m capable of -he turned away, walked to his desk and fell on the chair. Its legs squeaked under the weight of his burdened conscience. She saw his back, hunched to protect himself from her inquisitive eyes. Adding to the strange landscape of silence and uncertainty, muffled stamps could be heard in the background as they tried to hit the heavy rocks. read more »

Wings of desire (2)

With a frightening growl, he stormed away from her, jumping into the boat and pushing himself away from the bank of the channel, into the darkness until he was nowhere to be seen.

She heard low sounds, murmurings of water and splashes of oar and muffled sounds of something not human, not monster… something she knew belonged to him. The Angel. She was unable to think of him as the Phantom… She had heard scary stories about him, and most people feared his dark ways… but she could not bring herself to be afraid of him. read more »

Wings of desire (1)

A fanfic inspired by The Phantom of the Opera… I changed some things… and the Phantom himself. If you check the tags, you will understand why. *giggle* I started writing this a long time ago, but now someone requested an update and I decided to keep on writing it. With a clear conscience, because there is no real person involved. *cheers*
As for the title, I apologize… I know it’s stolen… but I couldn’t help it, I like it so much. Titles are my nemesis… I can’t find proper titles for my stories! All the best ones are already taken!
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1.

He stood with his back to it all. Emotions welled up inside his heart, spilling over his closed eyes, burdening his eyelashes with heavy tears.

He could not do it.

Dropping over his bed, he buried his hated face into the soft covers.

The waters of the underworld, his underworld, lay still and dormant under the archways of putrid stone, leaden with moss and slimy rust. Ancient wails echoed between the walls of the tunnel and the perfectly still surface of the water. His wails. His pain. His loneliness. read more »