"Christine. Christine are you listening to me? Erik has more confessions that he can make to you. They will not be the single most terrible thing that he could ever dream of speaking out loud, but you have already heard that. Erik can speak to you of days long past, far away and long ago in Persia or along with the circus. Erik can tell you of times he was most powerless, most abject, nearest to death. He will re-live these pains for you. For you alone. So that you need not be wretched, Christine. So you can be blessed. You are looking at me. I know you are listing to your little voice. Yes. Let me bless you with my pain. Let me deliver you with my own shame. Here, you can sit up. Dry your eyes. Why are you looking at me like that? I am quite serious. Erik will paint you as detailed a picture of his life as you wish. And when it becomes too terrible, simply tell Erik to skip ahead.
You already know that Erik joined the circus. But you do not know how low he had fallen.
"Here, I will set the stage. A little stage and a little chair for you my Christine. But this was not an exhibit that they would have allowed a lady such as yourself to enter. No, my act was far too macabre for women, for children or for the light of day. I will be ready in a moment. Don't go anywhere. This will help, Christine. You will have Erik if I have to give him over to you. Moment by moment. Miserable hour by miserable hour. Erik's childhood built up of such horrors and disparity. Imagine now if you will, You see the firelight flicker against the curtain and they say, 'from the land of the dead, the living skeleton!' Now you must imagine, Christine that instead of the worlds sweetest child before me, is a throng of drunken, belligerent Englishmen or Germans--their heads and bellies full of liquor, their sinuses full of snuff. And instead of the Erik you see before you today, imagine that there is a nameless child of perhaps 7 or perhaps 10.
"Do you see Christine? Here I am lead around by a rope, here I am shrouded in black. Here I am displayed, exposed and vulnerable for all of Paris or for all of Milan or for all of Frankfurt. Men come crowding around me, eager to squeeze my flesh or pinch my arms.
"Here I am again a little older. To diversify my act I have learned a little ventriloquism, a little magic and of course violin. The man speaking says I have learned to play the violin from the devil himself. I am the ghost of Niccolo Paganini, condemned to walk the earth as a living corpse until judgement day, playing the violin and luring men to their graves. I learn to tell fortunes and read palms when they finally let me speak for myself.
"And when they finally let him speak for himself, the ghost calls himself Erik."
"But of course that is front stage, my little Christine. And Erik is still quite young then. Memories of that time are dark and strange. Erik remembers being chained to a tent post and beaten with a belt. Erik remembers the lash of a whip. Erik remembers the screams of the women from the circus as they were surprised by a forced visit of Erik's visage. Erik remembers standing helpless when others near him are hurt and violated. Erik is tied r perhaps handcuffed to something and forced to watch some man take his pleasures from a dancing girl. Erik is sick over it. Her cries haunt his nightmares for years. His wrists bleed from where he tried to escape.
"Erik is pushed, pulled, yanked from place to place to display himself. If he attempts escape he is beaten. If he succeeds in escaping he is dejected, from house to house, turned away from church doors, chased by hounds through the forest through the fields through the high deserts.
"And now I will show you, Erik is in Persia. Erik is wrapped in long black cloths once again, but this time they are overlooked as being habitual. For the first and indeed only time in Erik's life he can move about the streets with something near ease. But these days in Persia do not lead to sanctuary. And now Christine I will break down this little stage and I beg you to think of me with as much charity as you have.
"This was the truth I said you were not to know. This is the story you wanted and now you will hear of it.
"This is the rosy hours of Mazenderan."
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