[The Phantom of the Opera] Boundary Bridge
Chapter 57 Amazing Grace
"She was walking on the road in Paris, and her mind was as clear as the moonlight."
The witch seems to be singing with operatic emphasis.But she is really not good at this, the broken sound and strange tune make the obviously soft tune strange and ominous.And Eric just lay on the ground with wide green eyes and listened in despair and pain.
"She heard the wind and raised her face, and rose petals fell on her face."
The ugly and hoarse crow-like singing is talking about such a beautiful and desperate image, such a disillusioned hope.Eric twitched in pain on the ground, and he yelled in a low voice, "No! No!"
But the witch said to him: "On the day you made your fateful choice, the petals were blown down by the unrelenting wind. Now I can tell you everything that caused you pain. Enid touched the rose petal, It brushed over her left eye, slid over her sharp nose, kissed her cheek, and landed on the ground. Thus, her left eye could see through the truth, while her right eye gazed at the false."
This painful comparison is like tearing off the last protective layer, forcing him to let her see clearly what a vain and ridiculous clown he is, what a struggling and depraved coward he is!
"When she closes her eyes and has peace of mind, she can see the beauty of your appearance."
"When she opened her eyes, staring coldly, your true ugliness was exposed."
……
When Eric finally got rid of the pain, the witch had disappeared.
Yes, she was gone again, as invisible as when she came.
Eric laughed self-deprecatingly.At the beginning, the smile was only low, and then it became more and more crazy, mixed with severe pain, almost toppled this underground palace.
"Hahahahaha! Hahahahaha!" He laughed wildly.
So he staggered and sang, and Eric's singing was naturally much more beautiful than the witch's.There is no one here, he sings to himself, and of course only to himself, no one can hear it, and no one will ever be able to hear it.Those who can hear have been driven away by him, Eric!Eric!Big joke!
He was finally able to judge himself in agony, because there was no one else, no way out.His pain is also confined to himself, and he cannot be comforted by others. He can either vent it or destroy it.His finger pressed the harp, and was cut by the sharp string, and dark red blood flowed out.
He sang hoarsely:
"I have become a slave to the old days.
The appearance is a gorgeous feather coat, which makes me cocooned.
I am dull and proud, I am cowardly and mean.
I was the prince of the night, and despised the weariness of the day.
The me I am now is dead. "
"I have become a slave to my appearance..."
What he personally chose was such an absurd and cruel fate, and everything he tried to pretend had already been unloaded in front of her.In her gentle and clear eyes, there was never a trace of disgust.What about him... how...
In fact, he should have guessed everything.The sinister fate, how could he be lenient to him?What's more, this time he himself was very wrong.His lost singing voice was regained by her, and his disguised clothes were naturally torn off by her.But... how...
Why is it her?Why Enid?Eric hugged his head in pain and curled up on the ground.
She came to Paris and left Paris, making his soul like ice and snow, like a fire.He couldn't help being guided by her, and he couldn't help hating her for guiding him.The happiness he longs for is nothing but a splendid palace built on floating sand.All his vanity is the most wonderful grace of happiness.He forced a corner of his heart to sleep, as if forcing himself to drive her away and tell her to go away!But--
"We will be destroyed by what once slept in our hearts."
Eric sang in a low voice, half crying and half laughing.
He finally recognized the truth. At this moment, the world before him was only different from others.Christine, who once called him crazy, was just one of the many living beings.Enid who called him grief, Enid who called him joy, Enid who called him furious and decisive, where should she be now!
He didn't want her to see this ugly face, but it backfired.She was like him, an unblemished soul that a better he might have had.Although Eric knew how twisted and ugly he was, he couldn't help but yearn for that possibility with tears.What truth, what soul, what is he going to do?He wailed loudly, because his perfect face, which he used to flatter the world, could not fool everyone—himself and her.Besides, what is it?What else?
Now when he recalled that he hurt her with all kinds of words and deeds and forced her to leave Paris, although he regretted a lot, he also felt a little relief amidst guilt.Eric was finally able to open his mind and ponder his motives.At that time, he was not ashamed, which was naturally because of cowardice and despicableness, but also because he had a part or two of love that he himself did not want to admit.
He knew that her body was declining day by day due to her stay in Paris, the pain tore his soul, and the desire to possess made him desperate to ask her to stay, even if the price was her dying of decay!However, he forced her away again, knowing that as long as she got out of the city of Paris, her body would gradually recover and she would be free from illness.And his meanness made her heart never look back.
But this is not the real reason. Although there are one or two factors, Eric still has to admit that what caused him to force her away was despicableness and cowardice.He hurt her unscrupulously, seeing her in extreme pain but did not dare to feel guilty, because he knew that what he sealed with his last cruelty and despicableness was the same monstrous pain.If he were a shallow villain, he could still love him frivolously.If he wants to face the truth, he has to suffer and despair like her, even more than her!Because he is the one who destroyed everything with his own hands!
He chose to be mean.His hurt is mixed with clear cognition and despicable chaos, mixed with vague love and determined hatred.He has no regrets, he himself will suffer and regret even more on the day when everything is revealed!He regrets it!He regrets it!He really regrets it!
"Enid—" he cried out in pain.
Get rid of everything!Get rid of the pain!Get rid of all identities and constraints, all emotions and fetters, even get rid of this clown-like skin!He was going to find her, he had to find her, he would find her, and offer the love of a broken scumbag, and beg her eyes to give him the clean tenderness of forgiveness.At that time, he is willing to bathe in the world of mortals with his original ugliness, as long as the singing is flying in his heart!
She is his love, see his love clearly.And where is his self?His singing!
"Enid!" he yelled.
But at the same time, he suddenly felt a wave of panic.His singing voice, which had been entrenched in his throat, bouncing and beautiful, which had been his exclusive possession for a long time, suddenly shrank with terrible speed.They withered, withered, withered, and soon there was nothing left.And the scary thing is that he can't tell anyone!They were killed without a trace!
"Singing? My singing?" He tried to sing, but two sobs came out, "Singing——"
He was dizzy and didn't know where he was or what he had experienced.I just feel that my eyes are full of absurdity and I don't know what to say.There are sounds of nature in my ears for a while, and crows for a while.He couldn't tell the truth from the fake, and he didn't know if he was still singing—still singing—going on.
He collapsed on the ground dejectedly. For some reason, the damp soil seemed to inspire him with courage, and a bright and hopeful direction gradually appeared in his heart.Love!Love guided him and pardoned his ugly sins.
He returned defeated in the pain of loneliness, and desperately begged for the pity that God had given him.He was suddenly moved by love, so he had the courage to speak out his true appeal in the face of the truth that he had never dared to face.His real self, which he wanted to stretch out, was painfully crumbling, unable to bear the shackles of a gorgeous clown skin.
What he really wants is...
"Witch! Witch!" cried Eric. "Witch, I'm sorry! Give me back my singing! Give me back my singing!"
What he faced was the emptiness of a room.
……
And the witch is singing:
"She walked on the moonlit snow, and her heart was as cold as ice."
"She returns with her soul, with music and love in her heart."
The author has something to say: *Updating the text makes me feel alive.
The witch seems to be singing with operatic emphasis.But she is really not good at this, the broken sound and strange tune make the obviously soft tune strange and ominous.And Eric just lay on the ground with wide green eyes and listened in despair and pain.
"She heard the wind and raised her face, and rose petals fell on her face."
The ugly and hoarse crow-like singing is talking about such a beautiful and desperate image, such a disillusioned hope.Eric twitched in pain on the ground, and he yelled in a low voice, "No! No!"
But the witch said to him: "On the day you made your fateful choice, the petals were blown down by the unrelenting wind. Now I can tell you everything that caused you pain. Enid touched the rose petal, It brushed over her left eye, slid over her sharp nose, kissed her cheek, and landed on the ground. Thus, her left eye could see through the truth, while her right eye gazed at the false."
This painful comparison is like tearing off the last protective layer, forcing him to let her see clearly what a vain and ridiculous clown he is, what a struggling and depraved coward he is!
"When she closes her eyes and has peace of mind, she can see the beauty of your appearance."
"When she opened her eyes, staring coldly, your true ugliness was exposed."
……
When Eric finally got rid of the pain, the witch had disappeared.
Yes, she was gone again, as invisible as when she came.
Eric laughed self-deprecatingly.At the beginning, the smile was only low, and then it became more and more crazy, mixed with severe pain, almost toppled this underground palace.
"Hahahahaha! Hahahahaha!" He laughed wildly.
So he staggered and sang, and Eric's singing was naturally much more beautiful than the witch's.There is no one here, he sings to himself, and of course only to himself, no one can hear it, and no one will ever be able to hear it.Those who can hear have been driven away by him, Eric!Eric!Big joke!
He was finally able to judge himself in agony, because there was no one else, no way out.His pain is also confined to himself, and he cannot be comforted by others. He can either vent it or destroy it.His finger pressed the harp, and was cut by the sharp string, and dark red blood flowed out.
He sang hoarsely:
"I have become a slave to the old days.
The appearance is a gorgeous feather coat, which makes me cocooned.
I am dull and proud, I am cowardly and mean.
I was the prince of the night, and despised the weariness of the day.
The me I am now is dead. "
"I have become a slave to my appearance..."
What he personally chose was such an absurd and cruel fate, and everything he tried to pretend had already been unloaded in front of her.In her gentle and clear eyes, there was never a trace of disgust.What about him... how...
In fact, he should have guessed everything.The sinister fate, how could he be lenient to him?What's more, this time he himself was very wrong.His lost singing voice was regained by her, and his disguised clothes were naturally torn off by her.But... how...
Why is it her?Why Enid?Eric hugged his head in pain and curled up on the ground.
She came to Paris and left Paris, making his soul like ice and snow, like a fire.He couldn't help being guided by her, and he couldn't help hating her for guiding him.The happiness he longs for is nothing but a splendid palace built on floating sand.All his vanity is the most wonderful grace of happiness.He forced a corner of his heart to sleep, as if forcing himself to drive her away and tell her to go away!But--
"We will be destroyed by what once slept in our hearts."
Eric sang in a low voice, half crying and half laughing.
He finally recognized the truth. At this moment, the world before him was only different from others.Christine, who once called him crazy, was just one of the many living beings.Enid who called him grief, Enid who called him joy, Enid who called him furious and decisive, where should she be now!
He didn't want her to see this ugly face, but it backfired.She was like him, an unblemished soul that a better he might have had.Although Eric knew how twisted and ugly he was, he couldn't help but yearn for that possibility with tears.What truth, what soul, what is he going to do?He wailed loudly, because his perfect face, which he used to flatter the world, could not fool everyone—himself and her.Besides, what is it?What else?
Now when he recalled that he hurt her with all kinds of words and deeds and forced her to leave Paris, although he regretted a lot, he also felt a little relief amidst guilt.Eric was finally able to open his mind and ponder his motives.At that time, he was not ashamed, which was naturally because of cowardice and despicableness, but also because he had a part or two of love that he himself did not want to admit.
He knew that her body was declining day by day due to her stay in Paris, the pain tore his soul, and the desire to possess made him desperate to ask her to stay, even if the price was her dying of decay!However, he forced her away again, knowing that as long as she got out of the city of Paris, her body would gradually recover and she would be free from illness.And his meanness made her heart never look back.
But this is not the real reason. Although there are one or two factors, Eric still has to admit that what caused him to force her away was despicableness and cowardice.He hurt her unscrupulously, seeing her in extreme pain but did not dare to feel guilty, because he knew that what he sealed with his last cruelty and despicableness was the same monstrous pain.If he were a shallow villain, he could still love him frivolously.If he wants to face the truth, he has to suffer and despair like her, even more than her!Because he is the one who destroyed everything with his own hands!
He chose to be mean.His hurt is mixed with clear cognition and despicable chaos, mixed with vague love and determined hatred.He has no regrets, he himself will suffer and regret even more on the day when everything is revealed!He regrets it!He regrets it!He really regrets it!
"Enid—" he cried out in pain.
Get rid of everything!Get rid of the pain!Get rid of all identities and constraints, all emotions and fetters, even get rid of this clown-like skin!He was going to find her, he had to find her, he would find her, and offer the love of a broken scumbag, and beg her eyes to give him the clean tenderness of forgiveness.At that time, he is willing to bathe in the world of mortals with his original ugliness, as long as the singing is flying in his heart!
She is his love, see his love clearly.And where is his self?His singing!
"Enid!" he yelled.
But at the same time, he suddenly felt a wave of panic.His singing voice, which had been entrenched in his throat, bouncing and beautiful, which had been his exclusive possession for a long time, suddenly shrank with terrible speed.They withered, withered, withered, and soon there was nothing left.And the scary thing is that he can't tell anyone!They were killed without a trace!
"Singing? My singing?" He tried to sing, but two sobs came out, "Singing——"
He was dizzy and didn't know where he was or what he had experienced.I just feel that my eyes are full of absurdity and I don't know what to say.There are sounds of nature in my ears for a while, and crows for a while.He couldn't tell the truth from the fake, and he didn't know if he was still singing—still singing—going on.
He collapsed on the ground dejectedly. For some reason, the damp soil seemed to inspire him with courage, and a bright and hopeful direction gradually appeared in his heart.Love!Love guided him and pardoned his ugly sins.
He returned defeated in the pain of loneliness, and desperately begged for the pity that God had given him.He was suddenly moved by love, so he had the courage to speak out his true appeal in the face of the truth that he had never dared to face.His real self, which he wanted to stretch out, was painfully crumbling, unable to bear the shackles of a gorgeous clown skin.
What he really wants is...
"Witch! Witch!" cried Eric. "Witch, I'm sorry! Give me back my singing! Give me back my singing!"
What he faced was the emptiness of a room.
……
And the witch is singing:
"She walked on the moonlit snow, and her heart was as cold as ice."
"She returns with her soul, with music and love in her heart."
The author has something to say: *Updating the text makes me feel alive.
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