How this came about: I thought of everything and nothing. Father promised me that he would send me the angel of music. Instead, I got a computer with Microsoft Word.

Note: My first ficcy - ahem PHiccy. Sorry if it sucks. Just read, and PLEASE review. That way if I am good, I continue writing chapters and stories, and if I suck…well, you know; )

Prologue

Erik

You don't know my past. No one does. You cannot fathom the pain I have gone through. The pain was burned into my soul emotionally and left the deepest scars. The emotions were far from joy and happiness. They were much more than expanded agony and grief. It was essential that I were to leave my home. Frankly, I did not feel sorrow that I was leaving, nor did I care. I was to live place to place, feeling no compassion from the citizens passing by, but content with my life. No…I was not content. This face – this thing – got me into this situation in the first place. I was only eight, living on the streets. How could I be content?

After long travels all over the world, I became more mature and wiser. In my travels, I came to find myself in France, my home. Having knowledge of architecture, I became an architect at the Opera Populaire, and with that came to know the opera house very well. I learned of its many doors and secret passages, of the many roads and hallways, but one thing I found in particular was a large lake five compartments under the opera. I grew fond of the lake, and after some years, made an actual home in the labyrinth. It was my sanctuary, my world of the arts, free from any outside contact. This was my home, and the opera was my playground.

Christine

My father passed only yesterday. He left me. I was left alone in this world. The only companion I had was by the name of Madame Giry, whom I had only met once before. I had met her only days before father died. She had come to take care of me since father was too ill to, and we talked of things that were in each other's lives. I felt close to her, as if she were an old friend. I told her of my secret love, my friend Raoul de Changy. I asked her if she knew of this boy.

"I do not." She replied simply. "I presume he is a handsome fellow."

I nodded my head vigorously. "Quite! Plus, he is a count. He told me when we grow up, he is going to marry me and I am to become his countess. Oh, Madame Giry, I know this might be foolish, but I feel excited about. Think of it: Countess Christine de Changy!"

Madame Giry grinned gently at me and patted my arm. "It is not foolish, ma chere. It is a matter that any person would be excited about. I hope that he will make you happy." With that, she rose from where she sat and walked away quietly, leaving me alone in my thoughts of love.

Yesterday was a cold morning with white snow covering the sidewalks. It was as if nature had known I was mourning to make the sky gray and cloudy. I walked hand-in-hand with Madame Giry toward the Opera Populaire. I was silent, as was she, but I was silent for I was thinking of the last words that Father had said to me. While he lie on his bed with dull candle light, he slowly took my hand. "My Little Lotte," he said softly. He took deep breaths as he spoke. "When I'm in heaven, child, I will send the Angel of Music to you." He smiled. "I promise you this, Christine." It was the first time in seven years that he had not used the name "Lotte" but "Christine".

Thousands of tears slid down my face. For Father is to never call me "Lottie" again, and I shall never hear his voice again. This evening, as I settled into my new home, I thought of this. How depressed it made me, yet I couldn't let the thoughts leave my mind.

Madame Giry gently knocked and opened the door to my living chambers. I quickly stood, erasing the tears on my cheeks with the tips of my fingers and turned the doorknob.

The woman was not alone, for she had a small child of my age beside her. The girl smiled while Madame Giry spoke simple sentences. "Christine, this is Meg. She is my daughter. She, too, had a father that passed away recently." Meg nodded somberly. "She is in the new opera 'Faust' and she was quite curious if you would like to be part of the ballet."

As I thought of these words, my spirit slightly lifted. My chance to make father happy. I would see the Angel of Music. Father promised. I vowed my life, from this day on, would be dedicated to music to make father and the angel content.

Prologue End