Disclaimer:
I do not own the Phantom of the Opera. Nope. I have a book, a plushie, and a soundtrack! That is it! Sooo...Yeah! Gaston Leroux is the one to thank for the Phantom!
Info:
This was my very first attempt at a good Phanfic...sooo...yeah...tell me what you think, REVIEW! Also, sorry it's is so short, the next chapter will probably be pretty short too, but after that, they will definitely grow! If you spot any grammar mistakes or something spelled wrong, also inform me! Thank you!
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Chapter I: What Does a Chold Lose?
"Denise!" cried the distant voice of a man or a boy, that could not be distinguished with the many other voices that seemed to follow it. "Denise!" it repeated. This call seemed to echo throughout the open field in which Denise Anne Collard, a girl of six with dashing green eyes and blazing red hair stood in her lilac dress and bare feet. Isn't that funny how dreams work? Denise thought it odd that the voice would echo in the beautiful flower-spotted field she was in. She ran toward the voice, then flew, her feet lifting from the ground as simply as if a raindrop had been falling upward. Where had he been calling from? Who was he? Was it that playful boy, Joseph Vernet, with the wooden horses? Oh, how Denise hoped it was him! Suddenly, the colorful flowers faded and a black-painted board appeared before Denise's eyes.
What a night that was! The delighted Denise hopped out of her bed and did a few stretches, then touched the black board that was her dresser. She ran to her bathroom to fix her messy hair. She was always so picky about her hair. If the bow the ribbon made was crooked, she may very well throw a fit and become stiff as a board! Denise gave a soft cry and bounded out of the bathroom toward her mother's room. Her mother, Anne Carine Collard, was sitting in a chair, scribbling on random pieces of parchment. Anne looked up at the smiling child that stood before her and smiled herself. Denise threw herself into her mother's arms and, together, they got dressed, ate a breakfast roll, and pranced out of their home.
It was a bright, sunny day. Only a few clouds dotted the sky here and there, while birds chirped peacefully in the nearby trees. Denise and Anne stopped to watch the people headed to the opera house for the performance that was to start soon go by. It was to be Faust, one that Denise had seen once before. She didn't much care for it, but loved the beautiful opera house that it was held in. Anne had never really cared for the shows that were always put on. She would go for the soul purpose of Denise, who would always drag her mother along to the ones that she found most amusing. Today was no exception! After a few minutes of taking in the sweet silence, the pair went straight to the Opera Populaire.
Afterwards, Anne and Denise started for home. Denise was still singing the wonderful songs from Faust, while Anne stood watching her, a smile playing delightfully on her face. There was a scream nearby. A fire. Denise recognised at once that her house was on fire and dashed to it as fast as she could, crying for her dog, who was still inside. Denise entered the flaming door frame in search of Joseph, who had been curiously named by Denise herself. She called out his name numerous times while Anne, also calling, but for Denise, was frantically searching for her daughter.
It seemed like seconds after Denise looked up to see a wood beam fall between her and her mother, then another one fell to hit her, that her eyes snapped open. Where was she? Why was she hurting? She looked around to recognize Joseph Vernet's living room. The small wooden horses which she had always played with were set neatly in a row on the mantlepeice. She sat up to see Marie Vernet, Joseph's mother, stitching something together or so it seemed.
"What happened?" Asked the shy Denise. Marie looked up at the child and walked over to her. She sat down on the couch near her and held her in her arms. "What happened?" Denise repeated, "Where's my mother?"
"The fire, Denise, the fire took her...and poor Joseph Dog too..." Marie began to weep into Denise's hair. Denise pushed her away, also crying.
"You found me and took me out?"
"You should have left me to die! I don't want to live without my mother!" Denise began to sob harder.
"I'm sorry for your loss, dear," repeated Marie.
"What do you know what I lost?" shouted the six year old girl through her tears. "Huh? What do you know!"
"You're right Denise, what does a child lose?"
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