Phantom of the Opera? (f)

[Here Secretly]

About two nights ago for what seemed to be no reason whatever, this story idea came to me involving characters from Phantom of the Opera. This is all MOST peculiar because though 1) I do write and 2) I love to hang out here and read, I do not--that is, have never and never expected to--write sneezing stories. But whatever. This idea came up and... I thought maybe I'd post it. But I wanted to ask first is anyone interested? If so, I can paste it in here by tomorrow because I actually already typed it. The sneezing in it is female (which is typically NOT my thing either! Honestly! I'm female and straight and FAR prefer male sneezes... but for whatever reason, this story has female sneezing in it). Anyway... any takers?

[Jules]

Sure... you have my curiosity piqued.

[Just Older]

If you don't mind sharing it, I'd like to read it too.

[King_of_the_ruins]

i wouldn't mind reading it either. I always loved Phantom of the opera

[Here Secretly]

Okay... well, here goes then. And I'll be perfectly honest, it seemed really good in my mind two nights ago at about 3 in the morning. Then I typed it up and let it sit for a day, and it seemed a bit stupid... but then, I tend to have that feeling about all my writing anyway... and it makes it especially awkward that it's a first fetish fic... so yeah... This feels really weird. Here goes, nonetheless. Be gentle, especially if it totally sucks, okay?

Phantom of the Opera

female sneezing; a little romantic but not overtly sexual

Fandom: Phantom of the Opera

Disclaimer: I obviously don't own these characters (but I used the book, so it's public domain.)

Rating: T (NOT 18+)

Summary: Christine descends to the cellars of the Opera for a visit and a music lesson but her plans go slightly awry.

Authors Notes: First ever sneezing fic, so this feels awkward beyond belief... Oh yeah... and I'm just going to post the whole thing. It's a one-shot. I mean, I left it wide open to continue, but the ending of this piece implies that the next part would be 18+ and I don't write 18+ stuff (although I imagine it's true that there's a first time for everything) so I probably won't do anything more with this.

* * *

Christine made her way slowly through the underground passageway beneath the Paris Opera. She shivered, not with the chill of the damp passageway but with something very like fear. Erik—she had learned his name during her last visit which had begun consensually and lasted for a full two weeks—was a hideous monstrosity like nothing she had ever seen before. His skin was a pasty yellow stretched over the bones of his skull seemingly with nothing in between giving him the appearance of a man long dead. He had no nose to speak of and eyes so deeply set Christine could not see them in the dim of the gaslights. His hands, she remembered, were long, thin, bony, and, she had perceived that night as he sprinkled water on her forehead, smelled of death. She shuddered involuntarily and considered turning back. She didn’t want to visit Erik, oh no. But she had to visit Erik.

She had to for if she didn’t, he would come for her with his voice and his hands, first luring her then dragging her into the bowels of the Opera. And if he had to come for her that way he would never release her again, that was certain. It had taken two weeks of manipulation for him to release her the first time. Yes, manipulation. But it was her fault; she had gone too far. Erik had carried her off in a moment of ecstasy. She had listened to his voice, believed he was the Angel of Music. All at once her mirror shimmered and elongated as though by magic, and sudden, she was on the other side of the mirror in the arms of a man in a black mask. She had fainted almost immediately. She had been terrified that night, yes, but it was nothing compared to the fear she experienced after. No, the visit had become amiable, comfortable almost. Erik agreed to take her back directly if she insisted, but he requested that she stay five days. Five days! It seemed an eternity underground, but once she had dared remove the mask from his face, it promised to be a true eternity. She had escaped—yes, escaped: that was how she thought of it—only by pretending not to be revolted by his hideous appearance. And after two weeks of such pretending, he believed her when she said, “I will return.” If she did not return now, he would surely realize she had lied. It would not bode well for her if he learned that.

It was not only that, however. Failing to visit Erik might put an end to her career for certain, for until Erik began to tutor her in voice, she had never amounted to more than a mere chorus girl. After three short months of his tutelage, however, she had taken over the role of the prima donna when she fell ill suddenly. Christine smiled to herself, remembering. There were many terrible things about Erik, yes, but there were a few wonderful things as well. His voice—the Voice—was one of them. His musical genius was another. Perhaps there were more, waiting to be discovered. Perhaps if she could see past his hideous face... she shivered again at the thought.

She descended further still, wrapping her shawl about her shoulders more tightly. Now when she shivered she did not bother to blame her fear. Cold’s grip on her body equaled fear’s grip on her soul. It was not far now, however. She found his house—that is what he called it! ‘the house on the lake’ it was—easily. He was waiting for her in the parlor.

He greeted her with his hands carefully clasped together. He knew he was not permitted to touch her, yearn for her as he might. He stood before her in wonder as she gazed at him, uttered a brief greeting, rubbed her nose and sniffed.

Erik wished to proceed with her lesson immediately. He said he had been yearning to hear her beautiful voice and that he could not bear to live without hearing it, but secretly, he also wished to get past the lesson so that he might merely enjoy here presence. Perhaps she would talk to him. Perhaps he would read to her or entertain her with ledgermain. Whatever the case, he yearned for it. Without touching her, he led her to the piano where he played scales for her to sing to warm up.

He stiffened when she stopped in the middle of a scale turning her head away. She could not bear to look at him, perhaps, he considered, for though she had maintained that she now shivered only at the splendor of his genius, he suspected otherwise. Though she had burned his mask, he still doubted she could really bear the sight of him. He had other masks, but until this moment, he had not considered donning another in her presence; he had believed her words. He forced himself to look down at his hands, turn his face away from hers. She sang a few more notes, then paused again. He heard her breath hitch and stole a glance at her. She had turned away again, her hand pressed to her face. Was she crying? Why was she crying? Was he so terrible, even with his hideous face turned away? He cringed inwardly but continued to play. He heard her soprano voice join the piano once again with no trace of tears and it heartened him. He changed keys and her voice shifted effortlessly, changing with him, soaring up the scale and back down, then up a half step, rising and falling again.

Until it didn’t. Suddenly his accompaniment was a solo as her voice dropped away entirely. Then, without warning, she emitted a sound like a high-pitched squeak.

Erik stopped playing. He looked up.

“Oh, excuse me,” her soprano voice trilled hastily as she waved her hands before her face. “I beg your pardon. Please continue.”

Erik’s hands began to play the scales again seamlessly picking up where he left off, but his eyes remained upon her beautiful face. Something about her was different somehow. Her eyes were the slightest bit glassy, her expression slightly contorted, her nose seeming to twitch even as she sang. Then she missed a note as she involuntarily hitched a sharp breath. Her eyelids closed slightly in a flutter of long lashes and her right hand, previously clasped in her left, raised slightly in anticipation. Erik watched with something like fascination without ceasing his scales. Suddenly her head bobbed slightly as a sound like ‘coo’ escaped her lips.

Erik smiled slightly and glanced away. How peculiar! Sneezing was, of course, perfectly normal, but in three months of music lessons with Christine and countless hours of observing her from a distance he had never seen or heard this before, not even in the two weeks she had lived here. It gave him a warm feeling that she did something so normal, no informal, right there beside him. Normal was something he did not encounter so frequently. He shrugged the thought away, though, then he realized Christine had not yet begun singing again. He stopped playing to wait.

Her watery eyes reopened and looked at him in something only slightly less than agony and she sighed heavily. He had distracted her. With the sigh, however, came an intensity of feeling that she could not resist. “Ahh,” she breathed, her head craning back ever so slightly. “Uhhh,” she moaned, and Erik, who had never known the pleasure of a woman’s touch tried to ignore that it sounded like a moan of ecstacy. “Eh... eh...” Christine’s head bobbed forward with another high-pitched “coo.” Her eyes opened for but an instant then fluttered closed again. I’m sorry she mouthed at him, unable to speak.

Erik was no longer at the piano but standing at her side. “Come,” he told her. “Rest. You should not be singing if you are catching a cold.”

But she merely shook her head at him, unable to answer. Then, in a moment’s reprieve she told him “It is merely the dam—” He thought her sneeze cut off the word she was about to utter, but in reality she stopped herself. She had been about to say “damp” and suddenly feared it would offend him. After all, the poor man had lived underground all these long years. She turned her mistake into a hitched breath, pretended then to recover briefly and gave him a weak smile. “Dust, I meant to say,” she finished. “It is merely the dust.”

Dust? He glanced around. There was no dust here! It had been two weeks since she had graced his presence. In his loneliness, what had he to do but prepare for her visit? The house on the lake was as pristine as if—well, as if he had cleaned it himself, for he had. He had not a moment to reply, however, for she shook her head at him and waved a hand back and forth in front of her face, then once again took a hasty shallow breath “Ehh...” and expelled it again with an expression that looked like a wince accompanied by the softest “shoo.”

It broke his heart. Regardless of her words to the contrary, she was surely falling ill, and his damp dark home was not a place to recover. He would have to take her above. He had had only a few moments with her, and he had wasted them. He blinked rapidly to stave off tears as her breath hitched again, and that is when he noticed it.

She inhaled sharply with a lift of her shoulders.

“Christine.”

Her eyes rolled as he distracted her from the peculiar sensation in her nose. “Yes, Erik,” she said in a voice like she was holding her breath.

He reached one hand towards her back without touching her and she instinctively stood a little straighter. He brought his other in front of her abdomen, also without touching; he knew he was not to touch her. “Breath from here,” he began and she shot him an annoyed glance. As though she could sing at this moment, she thought. Of course, how could he understand the incredible tickling feeling in her nose. He didn’t even have a nose, she thought bitterly. Of course, that was not his fault... and she softened some.

“I meant, Christine...” he began again, “that perhaps if you breathe like you are singing....”

“Wait, Erik,” she said uncomfortably, but then she understood the suggestion and though she shook her head at him as though it were the most ludicrous idea she had heard, he saw her stand a little straighter, saw her abdomen extend ever so slightly with her intake of breath. “Ahh...” her lips parted and her eyes closed half way. “Ah... Ahhhh...” Her hand instinctively raised towards her face. Her body trembled for an instant.

“Deeply,” he scarcely whispered.

“AHHHH.” It was a sharp intake of breath through a now wide opened mouth.

The air came out in a sudden cough-like sound while both of her hands fled to cup over her mouth and nose, Erik deftly stepping out the of the way lest he obstruct her arms. “Ahh,” she sighed contentedly, rubbing her nose absentmindedly with her left hand. She rolled her eyes to him with a look that was at once thanking him and apologizing for the interruption of their lovely lesson, but it lasted a mere instant before her face scrunched up, her pert little nose wrinkling in what would have been the cutest way if it didn’t appear to Erik that she was suffering immensely. He sighed. Alas, she would suffer that way alone, for he had to return her to the surface and he could not remain above with her. He would hire a carriage to drive her home at least; it would offer him a few more precious moments with her. Besides, he couldn’t take a chance letting her go out alone. She might choose to walk. The night air might be chill. He would see her to her door and that would be all. Who knew when he might have occasion to see her again.

Her hands and eyelashes fluttered once again and as he watched her chest heave with uncomfortable breaths another idea came to him and he led her to her room. Her room! He called it her room now, for he had never had a guest before Christine, and she had occupied the room for two full weeks on her last visit. Before than it had been vacant for years.

“Erik, this is preposterous. I don’t need to lie down,” she protested. “It is only a sneeze. It will pass momentarily.”

He grinned at her as best he could with the face he’d been given. “My dear, it has been already far more than one sneeze,” he corrected her gently “And it has already been many moments—”

“Yes, but—”

He held up a hand to silence her. “I shall not insist you remain here to rest,” he explained. “No, I shall have to take you home. But first, I shall leave you here alone a moment while you loosen your corset. It severely hampers your breathing. It is a wonder you can sing...” let alone sneeze, he thought wryly.

“Erik that’s—” She was going to say preposterous, but actually, it didn’t sound like a bad idea. It was pressing dreadfully on her ribcage and the deep breaths she had taken had caused undue pressure and pain. “All right,” she nodded, and Erik stepped from the room pulling the door closed behind him. He was after all, if nothing else, a gentleman.

Christine stood a moment in the tiny room that had been hers for the two weeks that Erik had kept her a prisoner here. Had she known then that a bit of sneezing would have sent her above so rapidly she’d have found a way to acquire a cold immediately. But now that she was being sent above— without even finishing her singing lesson at that!—she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to go. She certainly wasn’t so ill to need to be sent away to rest. Indeed, she didn’t feel like she was catching a cold. Her throat wasn’t sore and her nose wasn’t stuffy—it just tingled like it occasionally did. Usually, it was a mild irritation, as surely it was now. If she could simply rid herself of whatever foreign particle she had surely inhaled, all would be well and she could at the very least finish her lesson. Then perhaps she would spend some time with Erik. He was very kind, after all, and she felt so very sorry for him, and he did not seem so very wicked tonight. Indeed, his tone had sounded quite tender and concerned for her.

The though of returning to her lesson dominating her thoughts, she plunged her hand into the pocket of her dress for her handkerchief. She might solve her dilemma as simply as blowing her nose, she reasoned, but her handkerchief was not there. She checked her sleeves in consternation struggling to remember to whom she might have lent it. Well, she would have to try Erik’s suggestion at once then, she thought rubbing her nose once more then setting to work to release her corset. And then she remembered.

“Erik!” she cried throwing open the door.

Standing in the hall not far from her doorway holding her shawl, the man looked truly startled.

“Erik, please!” she cried, pausing briefly to paw at her nose with a hand and then shake her head as though she could shake the tingle away. “Erik, I can’t...” she hesitated. Oh, how improper it would sound! “This... corset...” she said indicting her figure with a flourish of hands and she felt a blush rise in her cheeks. “I cannot unfasten this alone,” she said resignedly, hanging her head.

“Oh dear,” he responded. “Well, that is a pity my dear.” He held out her shawl, offering it to her. “I suppose you shall simply have to suffer until you get home.” His face was a look of utter agony. “I apologize for asking you to visit me here, making you ill. Erik is sorry. Erik is...” he sighed heavily. “Erik is worthless.” He hung his head and turned away, still muttering in the third person and, though his voice was so low she could not hear, no doubt calling himself any number of unflattering names.

She sighed as well and paused in rubbing her itchy nose. Soon he would cry. Oh, it was agony when he cried! She pressed her lips together hard and willed the tingle away enough so she could speak to him once again. “Wait, Erik. I have another idea.” He glanced over his shoulder, his deep-set eyes shiny with unfallen tears. “Perhaps,” she said, turning her back to him and looking at him over her shoulder, “perhaps you can simply loosen it for me?”

His eyes were wide.

“Heh... heh... heh... ... ... sheee-mpf.” Christine sneezed again, the sound stifling in her chest as much as if she had stopped it intentionally by holding her breath. When her eyes unfurled once more they glistened and a single tear trickled down her cheek. She laughed ashamedly, wiping it away then rubbed at her ribs. Yes, the corset was hurting terribly now and more so with each failed attempt at a sneeze.

Erik stood mere inches away from her, his pale thin hands twisted in her shawl and around one another, surely wishing to touch her but knowing that it was absolutely forbidden. “Please, Erik,” she said, her voice breathy.

“Yes, my dear,” he said hanging her shawl.

“Heh...” her eyes closed yet again and Erik involuntarily closed his as well. “cooo!” the desperate sound came again, and Erik winced. Poor sweet love! In an instant his hands were upon the hooks of her dress, rapidly pulling them from their eyelets carefully without touching her. Christine placed both hands over her chest holding her dress in place and breathing through her mouth lest she sneeze again with the painful corset still so tight.

She felt his fingers graze her skin lightly as he untied the laces to her corset and she caught her breath. His hands were cold. She felt him fumble with the laces, heard his breath quicken. Poor Erik. The one time in his sad life he got the chance to undress a woman and it had to be for something as silly as a sneeze. Christine suddenly felt very ashamed. And then she forgot her shame as the prickle in her nose came back with greater intensity. Holding her dress as she was, she could not rub her nose, and she still had no handkerchief. Her eyes widened an instant as she glanced around in vain, trying to determine what to do, then they fluttered closed involuntarily. “Mmmm...” she moaned trying to hold it in. “Mmmmm....”

Then “aaaaaaaaahhhh,” as she could not resist. Her breath hitched twice and for a moment she thought perhaps it would not come. “Eri—” she tried “iii... iiikoo!” the sneeze completed his name for her. “Ugh,” she moaned unable to rub or wipe her nose, momentarily off balance from the force of the partially un-corseted sneeze and entirely absorbed by the fact that the twitching feeling had not gone away in the slightest.

She sniffed. “Darling,” she said (when had she ever called him that before?) “Heh... have you a haaaah... ahh...” she paused fighting desperately, then continued “heh... handkerchief?”

He paused, fingers twined in the laces of her corset. “Of course my dear.” His right hand produced one as if by magic and he held it out to her immediately while his left hand deftly loosened the corset strings further.

She looked down at it helplessly, for both hands were occupied holding her dress. “Hmm...” she muttered shifting a hand toward the center of her chest, wondering if she could hold it one handed, but as she began to reach towards his hand, she felt the dress slip and her hand instinctively clutched at it. “Ugh,” she sighed again unhappily. What an incredibly awkward situation. Erik's left hand was still occupied with the corset and he did not seem to notice that she did not have a hand free for the handkerchief. She sniffed again, hoping me might notice. “Erik...” she murmured. She desperately needed that handkerchief. “Erii... iiihh...”

“Hush now,” he said softly in her ear. “Wait just another moment.” But by the twitching of her nose and the heaving of her bosom, he saw easily that she could not wait longer. He hesitated but a moment. No, he was not to touch her, and yet... perhaps... Her breath hitched again and her mouth fell open in anticipation as she at last lost the ability to hold back and gave herself over. Deftly, with the handkerchief between his second finger and his thumb he slipped his first finger beneath her twitching nose. She shuddered a moment then closed her eyes and sighed feeling the tickle subside ever so slightly but still pulsing to let her know it was not yet entirely appeased. “Uhhhh,” she moaned leaning against him. One last tug with his left hand left the corset strings loose and she breathed freely. “Huuuup...” She took in a large gulp of air through her mouth.

“Better now?” he asked her of the corset and she nodded slightly, unwilling to dislodge his hand. But an instant later he removed it and the sudden absence of the cool, calming presence beneath her nose caused it to twitch and tingle still more intensely than before. Her breath hitched twice.

She felt a hand touch her back lightly, traveling slowly up her spine, encouraging her to stand up straighter and though she was too distracted by the impending sneeze to focus on it, his hand seemed soft and soothing, and not at all like death. “Like we’re singing,” he murmured.

“Yee...eh... Yes, Erik,” she managed at last and then her eyelashes began to flutter and her breath hitched again. “Ehhh... ehhh...”

He placed a gentle hand upon her abdomen, reminding her. “AAAAHHHHH” she breathed, her lungs expanding, her ribcage easily pushing out the unbound corset, “AAAHHH.....”

For a moment she seemed suspended in time with her pretty eyelids closed over her watery blue eyes, her glossy pink lips hanging open in anticipation, both hands still desperately clutched across her chest holding her dress. A momentary panic descended upon her and she forced the sneeze back yet again. “Erik!” she whispered desperately. “Haaa... handke-eh... ehhhhh...” Then he greater desperation still: “Handkerchief!” The world barely escaped her lips. There was the handkerchief in his hand, her hands mere inches away but unable to reach for it, her nose not so far above and unable to wait longer. “EEEH... EH—SHHHHOOOOOO!” she sneezed loudly and wetly. In a single swift motion he caught her nose in the handkerchief as her head bobbed forward. Unhampered by the corset, the sneeze wracked her body, bending her delicate figured in half. “Ugh,” she managed to utter into his hand, and then before she had a moment to straighten up or recover: “Ehh... EHHH-SHHHOOOOO!” again, hurling her further forward still from her already bent position. She panted to catch her breath, slightly lightheaded from the sudden rush of air. She leaned against him, entirely forgetting who and what he was. For a moment he forgot as well and he wrapped his free arm—the one that was not still gently holding the handkerchief under her nose—around her waist. With the other he gently dabbed at her still flaring nostrils. She smiled at him in thanks momentarily, then her eyes fluttered closed once more.

“Again?” he asked her, incredulously, and she moaned back a response as he pressed the handkerchief to her face and she buried her face in his hand. “Ohhhh,” she moaned in anticipation. Then her body shuddered against him, every muscle quivering as her delicate nose erupted into the handkerchief once more and her lovely soprano voice uttered one last “Heh... heh... heh... HEPT—CHOO!”

Christine moved her head back and forth rubbing her tender nose in Erik’s hand then lifted her head and looked into his eyes. The desperate tingle in her nose had gone at last, thanks to Erik, but now, with his arm about her waist and her head nearly upon his chest she felt another tingling much lower down. She glanced away shyly, then dared to look up at him again. Perhaps Erik had some idea how to rid her of this tingle as well.

[krazykat]

That was very sweet

[Jules]

This is wonderful!! I am so glad you decided to post! I hope you'll share more stories with us sometime.

[Here Secretly]

Thanks!! That's sweet of you to say so!!

[Mischa]

that was fabulous! phantom of the opera is such a great topic to do a sneezefic for and you write very well thanks for the story!

[Here Secretly]

Jules~

Thanks so much for the kind words. I'm so glad everyone likes it!! I'll certainly share more if more come to me, but so far this is all that's hit. (In my "real" stories--the ones I write under my real name in real life, there is never EVER any sneezing beCAUSE of the fetish. Writing a sneeze into a story for me feels like... well... like writing something X-rated. It killed me to type this out and I've already deleted the original file from my computer permanently. Yes. I AM one of those very paranoid types!) Anyway, I promise to write more if I can. In the meantime, thanks again for the kind words.

[Here Secretly]

Mischa~

Awwww... thanks! Yeah, I noticed there's nothing else Phantom of the Opera related here and I thought the site could use one. I'd love to do more, but... Well... I'm shy about it. Even so, someday I'll post something else. When I work up the nerve.

[Jules]

Jules~

Thanks so much for the kind words. I'm so glad everyone likes it!! I'll certainly share more if more come to me, but so far this is all that's hit. (In my "real" stories--the ones I write under my real name in real life, there is never EVER any sneezing beCAUSE of the fetish. Writing a sneeze into a story for me feels like... well... like writing something X-rated. It killed me to type this out and I've already deleted the original file from my computer permanently. Yes. I AM one of those very paranoid types!) Anyway, I promise to write more if I can. In the meantime, thanks again for the kind words.

I understand. I'm sorry it makes you so uncomfortable , because you are very talented. I'll be hoping something else inspires you and you feel safe writing and sharing it.

[Here Secretly]

Julie~

Do you know you must be one of the nicest people ever?

Thanks again!

~H.S.

[Just Older]

You write very well, H.S. I could feel Erik's hesitance even as he was touching Christine.

Thank you for allowing us to read your creation.

[Jules]

Julie~

Do you know you must be one of the nicest people ever?

Thanks again!

~H.S.

You are very welcome. I haven't written any fetish fiction, and I seriously doubt I would be good at it or brave enough to share it myself. I have written "ordinary" fiction though, so I still understand what it's like to risk putting yourself out there. I really admire you.

[Here Secretly]

Well, I got brave enough to try it this once, so maybe you will too? If you do, be sure to tell me so I can read too, okay?

[Here Secretly]

Just Older~

Thanks so much!

~H.S.

[Jules]

Well, I got brave enough to try it this once, so maybe you will too? If you do, be sure to tell me so I can read too, okay?

Maybe... not counting on it, but who knows? If I do I will definitely let you know. Thanks.

[randomguy]

WOW! I loved this! Yeah, the sneezes were great, but what I was really impressed with was your writing. Your characters are very organic, your descriptions are poetic, emotional, and do a great job of getting the reader to feel with the character, the plot was just as intricate as it needed to be, and your language was great for the peiod and serves as a great vessel for your intent. What really amazed me was the way that you managed to entirely change the story of the Phantom of the Opera without tainting it at all. I haven't read the book, which is what I'm guessing you're basing this on, since the phantom's name is never revealed in the musical and he does put on his mask after Christine takes it off the first time, so I can't really say whether your story was accurate in style to the original, but honselty, who cares? Excellent work. By the way, if you're using Microsoft Word, you don't have to throw away a document because you're afraid someone will read it. I always just name it something ambiguous and then password protect it. Just an idea. Hope to read more from you soon!

[Here Secretly]

Wow!! Thanks SO much for those AMAZING comments.

Yes, I used the book, not the musical, which accounts for the difference in the way the poor fellow looks as well. And yes, he put the mask back on after she tore it off... in that the musical was true to the book... but then he refused to release her because "as long as you thought I was handsome you might have returned, but now you must remain forever..." and so she spends a couple of weeks convincing him his appearance does not frighten her. Once of the things she does to convince him is burn his mask.

I write a lot of other stuff from that period "in real life" so that part just came naturally. I was not kidding when I said I have NEVER written ANYTHING with sneezing in it EVER in my WHOLE LIFE before as well. What happened this time was I was lying in bed, not asleep for some reason, thinking about something I'd read on here and the thing just sort of came to me out of nowhere. It bugged me enough that I eventually had to type it out.

I frequently name files obsecure things. That one, for example, was just called Phantom fic... but even if it had been called something even LESS interesting, it still would have gotten deleted. It was just too dangerous.

Oh, but ultimately, I haven't changed the story much at all... she'll still leave him in the end. She always does. That's just life. It's tragic, right?

Let me say this, though... I am really REALLY touched that here on a forum all about sneezing you took the time to stop and tell me that the story was good not just for the sneezes but because it was well written. There's a LOT of well written stuff on here. I've noticed it too... but the sneezes tend to be such a distraction that it's hard to get to the "wow, you're a really good writer" part sometimes. I'll have to remember this and be sure to comment when I encounter other writers. That having been said, I hope the sneezes weren't poorly done. As I say, it was a first fic, and since it's posted here, they were sort of a key feature......

Thanks!

[randomguy]

You're very welcome! You did an amazing job for your first sneeze story. I just posted my first a few hours ago and it hasn't gotten any responses yet. Hopefully peopl will like it! I do a little writing and I tend to overanalyze things, so your great writing quality really popped out at me. It's sad that she'll still leave him in the end. Like I said, I haven't read the book, but I'm very familiar with the musical, and I always feel so bad for the phantom. But yeah, you're right, life's like that a lot. Besides, the musical is supposed to be a lot different from the book, so maybe I wouldn't feel bad for Erik the way the book characterizes him. And no, the sneezes weren't at all poorly done. The sneezes, just like your characters, happened in a real way and brought real reactions. I was really amazed at how well you worked them into the phantom story. It went along perfectly with Erik's character. First, there's the realism of the way that Erik, who has been totally deprived of human contact for his entire life, reaches out, clinging desparately to any human thing, which happens to take the form of a sneeze. (Or several sneezes, to be accurate!) It's cool because it's completely plausible! Secondly, I was really fascinated by the way you drew parallels between singing and sneezing. It really adds depth to the character of Erik that he's lost himself so thouroughly in music that he starts to see it everywhere, including the way that Christine breathes in preparation for a sneeze. And to top it all off, the fact that you worked in something so intricate in such a seamless way totally blew me away. So... um... no, you didn't do a bad job with the sneezes.

[countless]

Wonderful how Erik is holding his hankie ready for Christine ...

And good that she is not catching a cold and getting a crappy voice - I love the songs too much !

C

[cuneas]

Your story was excellent...sizzlingly erotic, in fact...but as a longtime passionate fan of both the novel and the musical, I have just one tiny quibble.

Why would Erik keep handkerchiefs in his house in the first place? He can't possibly need them himself--he has no nose, remember?

There's actually a scene in the Susan Kay "Phantom" novel where Christine needs a handkerchief in his house (though there's no actual sneezing), and he actually has to fish out the ones which used to belong to his long-dead mother, for the exact reason I mentioned above.

Not really meant as a criticism, I just thought it was a point of interest.

[randomguy]

By the way, I just wanted to clarify my previous comment about keeping a file secret. Giving it an ambiguous name is only to ensure that people won't figure out what it is from the name. You also have to password protect it so nobody can open it. If you're still freaked out, you can also make it a hidden file. Then you could only see it if you temporarily changed the folder options. Altogether, this would mean that somebody would have to know it's there without ever having seen it, care that it's there even though it has a boring title, and know your password to open it. Yeah, it's harder than deletion, but it seems a shame to get rid of such a great story. Just saying!

[Jemmabean]

Less complicated and just as effective - give it a file name consisting only of numbers, and put it in the directory C:\WINDOWS. Noone will EVER think to open that. Why would they?