Hello everyone!
I happen to be obsessed with the Phantom of the opera! The book, the movie, the show! I just love it all. Although this story is mostly influenced by the book, my vision of Christine is as of Emmy Rossum in the 2004 movie, but let your imaginations run wild!
This story is basically the title: what if the story was rewritten!
It is modern, but it is very much influenced by the historical side of poto. This is a mixture of romance and drama/mystery. Erik will be very much like book Erik, so he won't turn sweet and charming any time soon.
Rated T as a precaution, there will be strange situations and violence, but no sex and probably no swearing.
Disclaimer: I sorrowfully do not own the characters of The Phantom of the Opera. Everything belongs to Gaston Leroux and other people!
What if the story was rewritten...
Prologue
In life there is always an object, which can define a whole story, an object that as soon as you see it you are flooded with memories. This object can be as small as a penny in the bottom of your pocket or as large as an Arabian palace. In this stories case the objects are, a rose as red as a goddesses lips, a chandelier powered by a hundred candles and a Persian monkey sitting upon a velvet cushion playing the tune to a lullaby...
You may think, how may these completely different entities link together to create an entire story?
Well, let me tell you...
The story begins in Sweden, just outside of the city where the lampposts end and the vast mountains surround you; there lived a little girl named Christine Daae. She lived with her famous violinist father, Gustave Daae, in a small cabin sized house with goats in the garden and tea on the stove and they were never bothered by neighbours nor things that go bump in the night. And when she was snuggled up in bed on cold winter nights, he would tell her Scandinavian fairy-tales, about nymphs and gargoyles and even angels...
One icy December night, the wind was whipping against the windows and the trees in the deep pine forest rustled loudly as if they themselves were shivering and Christine found that she could not sleep. So she politely asked her father, who was writing cheques at the time, to come and read her a story.
The story he read her was of the angel of music, who Gustave described as a tall man with a white cloak and beautiful golden wings. In the tale he came to children in the night and gifted them with music and one special girl named Lottie he gifted an angelic singing voice.
The fairytale of the angel of music had quickly become Christine's favourite, she would lay in her bed awake until the early hours of the night praying and dreaming that the angel would visit her...
He never did.
Gustave Daee's work usually involved him performing in evening concerts within the city to which he would call Christine's only godparent Madame Giry and ask her to babysit. Though Christine did love Madame Giry, she often argued with her father about her feeling that she was old enough to be by herself at the age of 11; Gustave obviously disagreed and demanded that she be polite and respectful towards her father.
After coming home from his violin performances he would send Madame Giry on her way with a kiss goodbye and watch Christine sleep, dreaming of the days when his beautiful daughter would become a successful opera singer. He had begun giving her short clipped lessons in his spare time and had seen a spark of talent in her young voice.
Gustave couldn't tell whether it was more his dream or hers, but he knew he wanted nothing more than seeing his little girl on stage amazing thousands of people.
He never did.
Gustave had become very ill later that year, he was in and out of hospital more and more and Christine had found herself being forced into independence. Balancing school and looking after her father made her feel isolated from the world, and her daydreams of an angel became more and more vivid.
When Gustave died, Christine didn't know what to do; she had no-one but him. She had no solace and she felt so very lonely. Once Madame Giry was informed, she told her to pack her bags and join her in Paris. Christine was just a little girl, she couldn't critic or judge. So when the angel of music finally visited, she could do nothing but cling to that shred of hope.
And Hope can be the most dangerous of all.
I hope you all enjoyed this little snippet!
Please review, I really appreciate them and reply to all!