Dancing in the Dark by ChristineFrollophile, literature
Literature
Dancing in the Dark
-Inspired by the Tony Jay song, "Dancing in the Dark". Some lyrics included.
The talented artist, ZapRowsdower3000, drew this beautiful picture because she was inspired by my story. Click HERE to check it out and leave her a comment. :)
With slow leaden steps up the grande staircase, continuing further on down corridors, a solemn tall figure glides along. The day seemed to have dragged on mercilessly. Unending court case upon court case. Nothing would please the minister more than to emerge into his private chambers he shared with his wife, sequester himself away from the cruel world and just spend some quality time with her. The thoug
FrolloxEsmeralda-A Change of Heart by ChristineFrollophile, literature
Literature
FrolloxEsmeralda-A Change of Heart
The small room began to swim dimly into view; emerald eyes adjusted slightly to the gloom. The gypsy Esmeralda continued laying on the wooden bed, her head spinning something fierce. Sitting up very carefully she began to take notice that she was alone. Where was she? She started to stand, but found it difficult to do so. Instead she crawled towards the door. Upon opening it with some difficultly due to her weakness the sounds of the raging battle in front of Notre Dame grew louder. Looking around she realized she was up in the bell tower, but she did not see any sign of Quasimodo.
Hobbling and crawling towards the stone stairwel
Esmeralda was startled by Frollo entering his chambers in a stressed rush. She had been seated at his desk, in his high back chair and reading from one of the many books upon the many shelves behind her.
She rose a bit rattled and inched her way to the opposite side as she watched him move rigidly towards the right of his now empty chair. He pulled the top drawer open vigorously. He begun pulling a series of scrolls and parchments from it and plopped the papers on the desk before him. Bending at the waist, he started flipping through the various documents in a frenzied hast.
Esmeralda just casually waited, watching his fingers flip through
Esmeralda raised a brow and smirked, putting her hand on the back of the chair. She leaned forward, her eyes getting bright. She cocked her head as she asked, “Minister Frollo, are you saying you’ve never played the Bee Game?” Claude smiled a bit, rubbing his chin. He noticed that Clopin and the others were smiling widely, some even laughing quietly, yet none of them were willing to make eye contact with him. He glanced at Quasimodo, still sitting on the stool. The boy shrugged at Frollo, looking just as clueless. “Bee...game?” He swallowed. Judging by their reactions and Esmeralda’s mischievous little smirk, he knew he was going to regret knowing. Still, he was quite curious about how something so childish sounding could make her companions squirm like that. Was it a card game, or magic trick? From how everyone acted, you would think this game involved actual bees... She wasted no time. She took a step closer to him and smiled, movements were relaxed and her smile was
April 15th, 2019
In Paris, spirits weep.
A young man (it seems he was never destined to live long, and he died in his bed within a decade of the fires that burned half the city to the ground), whose body is no longer hunched and twisted, but straight and strong, hangs his head, withdrawn into his pain, and for a moment he almost looks as he did in life, distorted by sorrow rather than the cruelties of Nature. He was always closest to the Lady, and it is almost like he has lost a friend.
A Romani woman, older now, but her hair still as wild as it was her first Festival of Fools (it could never be tamed despite the rise in station, despite th
The Raging Beast Within by ChristineFrollophile, literature
Literature
The Raging Beast Within
January sixth, 1482, the Festival of Fools...a day that Judge Frollo would remember for a very long time. It was the day he discovered the enchanting gypsy beauty, Esmeralda. From the moment he first gazed upon her he knew he would never be the same. The need to make her his was growing by the second. He had tried to retain some kind of control once she claimed sanctuary in Notre Dame, thinking he had her right where he wanted her, but then the unthinkable occurred: she escaped. A slow building rage began within him. Vowing he would burn down all of Paris was merely the start of his madness. There was blood on the full moon that night, which
Manual Stigmata Chapter 4 by Vixie1979, literature
Literature
Manual Stigmata Chapter 4
A/N Please R&R! Thanks!
*****
She was twenty feet from his bed, when she found him on his back and heard the loud weeping echoing from across the room. It felt like she was in slow motion, like her ankles were weighed down with lead. She couldn't get to him fast enough. She didn't even know what to expect when she got to him either. She wondered if it had anything to do with his injuries. When she finally got to his side, she halted and evaluated him. She realized he wasn't even awake. His pale lids covered his rapid moving eyes. As she got closer, she noticed a slight glimpse of reddened sclera visible as well. She shook her head.
Does th