What was happening? He was running away… away from what had been his home, his life, his sanctuary ever since he could remember. Why had it come to this? Running from a mob of angry opera house residence and the police. And why? That was the question. He had been so clever, so skillful in how he controlled the Opera Populaire. It seemed like child's play with the incompatant owners and the paranoid and ignorant staff. So what was it that had gone wrong? What had changed? But, he knew, of course he knew… her. Christine, it was because of her that all this had happened. She had turned his whole world upside down and he had let his empire slip through his hands. But he couldn't help it, he loved her. She was his world and her voice made his song take flight. He needed her and his music needed her voice, but that was all over now, now even that had slipped away. She had denyed him and betrayed him. She had chosen that insolent boy Raoul. She hated him now, she feared him, despised him, and yet… when she had left there was saddness and regret in her eyes, a spark of concern… concern for him. But in the end she still left, left him in the dark, the despair, and the silence. That was what bothered the Phantom the most about his situation, as he ran through the catacombs he felt the silence closing in, threatening to suffocate him. His whole body seemed to fill with it, and for the first time in his life, the always present music in his head… stopped playing. He only heard the sound of his feet against the stone ground, the sound of his shallow, uneven breath, and the sound of them on closing in around him. He heard them, their angry voices raised in a haunting chant that chilled the Phantom skin.

"Track down this murderer- he must be found. Hunt out this animal, who runs to ground."

"Too long he's preyed on us- but now we know: the Phantom of the Opera is there deep down below…"

Their monochromatic voices echoed in his ears, crushing into his head and his mind. He felt his body begin to shake and his legs buckled beneath him as he went tumbling to the hard ground. He lay there, defeated and broken. He felt no fear, no hatred, no urgency to escape his fate, he only felt the inescapable sorrow cutting through him like a knife. Then, they came. They caught up to him and surrounded him as he lay there motionless as a stone and equally as cold. He could only see the scene through a haze, as they surrounded him, beat him, cursed him, raised him to his feet and hauled him away. And still… the music did not play.

Well here it is, the prologue of my new story. Please tell me what you think, I'm not real sure of it myself yet. Not sure whether I like it yet, but let me know what you think. Thank you all!