The Man Behind the Monster: Phantom of the Opera Story

15: The Masque of the Red Death

"The red death had long devastated the country. No pestilence had ever been so fatal, or so hideous. Blood was its Avatar and its seal -- the madness and the horror of blood.", Raoul began as he opened up his favorite book-- the works of Edgar Allen Poe.

"Raoul, you know that these stories creep me out!", Christine exclaimed, as she covered her ears to avoid hearing the story.

"Oh, come on Christine. It's just like old times.", I said, sitting down next to her on the sofa. I grabbed a blanket and draped it over our laps.

A fire was blazing in the fireplace. Only a small area of the large room was lit, giving an ominous feeling. But, there is no other way to tell scary stories than to be in a dimly lit room.

A coffee table sat in front of the sofa Christine and I were sitting on. On either end of the table stood a chair. Raphael sat in the one closest to me, while Raoul sat in the one closest to Christine.

"The prince had provided all the appliances of pleasure. There were buffoons, there were improvisatori, there were ballet-dancers, there were musicians, there was Beauty, there was wine. All these and security were within. Without was the "Red Death.""

This was Raoul's favorite story to tell. When we were kids, he memorized this entire story within 3 days of first reading it. He told it over and over again, to where I began to memorize it myself. Christine never liked stories like these. She was never one to like the dark and macabre stories. She liked fairy tales and love stories.

"And the rumor of this new presence having spread itself whisperingly around, there arose at length from the whole company a buzz, or murmur, of horror, and of disgust."

I looked over at Christine and I could tell she was not enjoying this. I watched as she continuously looked over her shoulders towards the pitch black room behind us. It's like she was scared that the story could come true and that she'd come face to face with the Masque of the Red Death.

"The figure was tall and gaunt, and shrouded from head to foot in the habiliments of the grave. The mask which concealed the visage was made so nearly to resemble the countenance of a stiffened corpse that the closest scrutiny must have difficulty in detecting the cheat."

"Who dares insult us with this blasphemous mockery? Seize him and unmask him -- that we may know whom we have to hang, at sunrise, from the battlements!", Raphael exclaimed, as he stood up, acting out the scene.

I couldn't help but let out a little chuckle at Raph's actions.

"There was a sharp cry -- and the dagger dropped gleaming upon the sable carpet, upon which most instantly afterward, fell prostrate in death the Prince Prospero. Then summoning the wild courage of despair, a throng of the revellers at once threw themselves into the black apartment, and seizing the mummer whose tall figure stood erect and motionless within the shadow of the ebony clock, gasped in unutterable horror at finding the grave cerements and corpse- like mask, which they handled with so violent a rudeness, untenanted by any tangible form.", Raoul continued with the story.

"And now was acknowledged the presence of the Red Death. He had come like a thief in the night. And one by one dropped the revellers in the blood-bedewed halls of their revel, and died each in the despairing posture of his fall. And the life of the ebony clock went out with that of the last of the gay. And the flames of the tripods expired. And Darkness and Decay and the Red Death held illimitable dominion over all.", Raphael had finished.

I slowly clapped my hands as the brother's finished up with their performance. They both jokingly took a bow.

"Well, thank you two for that. Now, I shall not be able to sleep tonight.", Christine stated.