Okay, so I've been wanting to attempt to write a Phantom fiction forever. Haven't gotten around to it until now. Please don't explode on me because I know this isn't that great. But here:
Disclaimer: As the cursed heavens above would have it...I don't own any of these characters, 'cept for the ones never mentioned in the book/movie.
The night air was cold. Although it was expected, since of course, it was November, the weather still came as a surprise to some.
The lonely back-streets of New York were something to be avoided, since no good could possibly come from such a dark, and deadly place. It was only a shame that this notice went by a young woman, clad in a long trench coat, a pair of faded jeans, and bright red ballet flats. She had just been dismissed from work, and tired hardly covered the way she felt.
A sudden noise startled her, as she began her descend into the black alley.
"Hello...?" Her frail voice called out into the subconscious.
"Hey there darlin'. Wanna come over here and gimme some loving'?" A disgustingly filthy man appeared before her, and she winced as his stale breath seeped through the spaces where teeth should have been.
She violently shook her head no, and quickly stepped past him, clutching her yellow bag tightly. The young girl could feel her adrenaline rushing through her veins, not bothering to settle down even after the man was a few feet behind her. Although she knew him to be far away---she heard his grumbling protest die the faster she walked---she could still hear the sound of someone or something making itself known.
Picking up the pace as much more as she possibly could, her impeccably crystal clear blue eyes searched desperately for an escape. But none, as far as she could see, was even close to being visible. The only source of light she saw, from that terribly dark alley, was a flickering streetlamp that obviously offered no means of the slightest hint of protection.
The faster she walked, the more she could hear the sound of footsteps thundering after her. Nothing offered the slightest bit of safety. The dank walls on either side of the alley offered more fright then it did a haven. And so, she continued, not bothering to look back. That is, until she ungracefully stumbled over her own feet---something that should have easily been avoided---and landed hard on the soaked asphalt.
"Damn it!" She muttered, catching her fall on her scraped hands. The moment those two simple words escaped her lips, she froze in fear.
As slowly as she could, she turned her head to look behind her.
Nothing.
Nothing but the heavy cloud of darkness. She couldn't see much, save for the small amount of light emanating from the untrustworthy street light. Her breathing quickened, as she still felt uneasy. It took a lot more strength to stand then she expected.
Dusting off her coat and jeans, she grabbed her bag from the sodden and soiled ground, and kept walking, unaware of the glowing eyes staring after her.
The strange evening in the alleyway was soon forgotten as Christine got on with her life.
Days would go by with the same unusual slowness. Sometimes she would find herself staring out of her wide windows, in hopes of some form of absolution rising in the distance. She hadn't been so empty, so hollow, until after...
She pushed it away.
"Good morning sir. My name is Christine, is there anything you would like to start off with?" Her voice, attempting to be cheery, sounded more pained then she could have heard herself.
The man, older looking, stared at her with confusion.
How would anyone so lovely as her be working in such a low paying diner? The man with ebony skin wondered.
He shook his head, and gave her his order;
"I'd like a simple cup of tea please. With a small side of biscuits."
Christine quickly wrote down her order on the little notepad, took the Macy's Diner menu, and headed off towards the kitchen. On her way, she quickly glanced back at the man, and found him staring out of the window. It was quite a strange contrast with the rest of the diner. The bright red booth seemed dull compared to his skin color, and the small neon sign above his head looked almost stupid. His dark hands were resting on the table, fingers intersecting with each other. He was a little chubby, but his short stature exceeded the clothing he wore. Dark greens and gold's were used in his wardrobe, and she wondered if he were wealthy.
Sighing, she turned her head away, and headed into the fluorescent light of the kitchen.
"Order up!" She shouted, placing the small paper onto a sliver counter.
"How are you today, Christine?" Mrs. Morris, the owner, and only cook, asked.
She shrugged. "Eh. I'm taking it day by day..."
Mrs. Morris was an older woman, perhaps in her mid-forties. She had dark skin, and usually wore her hair in long braids that were pulled back into a makeshift pony tail. Sometimes Christine felt that Mrs. Morris was the only parental figure in her life seeing as though both her parents were long forgotten.
Mrs. Morris nodded in agreement.
"Yes honey, I understand. By the way, how's college working out for you?"
Christine was currently attending New York University, but as of late, her grades were slipping, due to the lack of interest in her school life, and lack of anything colorful. Even though she didn't say anything about the subject, Mrs. Morris could tell that Christine was slowly dying inside if not because of her parents.
"It's okay...I just have a hard time concentrating on my grades...Lately I haven't really found the time to sit and study."
"Christine, if you ever need time off then please, let me know. Your mother and father wouldn't want you failing and neither do I." She gave a small smile and walked past the sickly thin girl.
Christine noted that she always smelled like jasmine.
"Well, here's the man's tea. Oh, and biscuits." She handed Christine a small cup with a saucer under it, and a little tray of homemade biscuits. When she exited the kitchen, she noticed how unnatural the light in the diner seemed to be.
Too bright...Too expressive...She would have to talk to someone about turning those fluorescent bulbs down.
"Here you are, sir." She placed the tea and biscuits in front of the ebony man, who was still looking outside of the dreary window.
He whipped his head around, and stared at her with such intensity, she felt her knees go weak.
After a long minute passed, he stirred his tea with the spoon that was wrapped up in a little red napkin.
"Christine..." He spoke so softly she had to strain to hear him. "Are you happy?" He asked.
She was a bit startled by his question. A stranger, out of nowhere, asked her a question that inquired into her happiness...
Strange...
"I-I suppose I am then, yes..." She whispered.
He nodded, obviously the answer didn't seem to sit well with him. Another thing that frightened her, was how he knew her name. That is until she looked down at her white and red uniform and saw her name plate that read Christine D.
She turned away to leave, but he murmured something under his breath.
She thought it was something along the lines of: "Call me Nadir.", But she couldn't be sure. Instead of asking, she simply turned back into the kitchen, and waited for the man to finish with his tea.
A/N: My Christine is going to be different. I'm not making her the typical scared-of-everything-including-Erik. So...please don't give me flames? And I'll try to make Erik as demented as possible: