A brief explanation:
An attempt at a different style of writing: Many people include themselves into the plot of their favourite book, film, game etc. and I am no acceptation. Almost every night from the first time I watch Phantom of the Opera I have imagined myself as different characters or place myself within the chaos of the tale. Slowly, over the years I have become obsessed with it, I want to try a first person account of the story from my perspective and the character I almost always end up creating in my head to fit in with the plot. This will be my version, I don't expect anyone to relate like they can in other writers fanfictions but this is personal and at best I hope it to be a good read for somebody, bored, browsing the internet. This is, of course, fiction, and won't link completely to the 1870s as there will be 'modern twist' to things, for instance the schooling system but in general I do not own the characters or most of the plot; I'm just a phantom phan in every way, expressing the fantasy that replays repeatedly in my head, in an attempt to relax my brain a little.
In the beginning, a reflection on the past
I had a content childhood. It was nothing special, quiet ordinary in fact, but I look upon it fondly like most. I grew up in a pleasant house, in Gothenburg with my parents, my only family. When I was 7 a young girl and her father moved close by and we became friends, her name was Christine Daae and, to me, she was magic. She was the same age as me and yet she was so much more. I was a child, yes, but my father, who treated me as a son, encouraged me to study, to learn to read, write and calculate while mother loved my artistic side, she was proud of my drawings and roughly sewn creatures. However Christine was set, she could sing like an angel, she performed with her father as they travelled around with fairs until Professor Valérius discovered them and brought them here.
We became best friends, we would play and teach each other things, I taught her how to do more complicated math, as I excelled in the subject, according to father, and she attempted to teach me to sing, however I had no talent, I could handle my breathing and even carry long notes however it sounded more like a baby bird squawking for food, rather than the song bird I tried to be. And that's where my jealousy for Christine began. I didn't mind too much, I knew, one day, she would be a star! …and I would watch from the side-lines, the unimpressive friend… We were close, often when meeting new people we would pretend to be sisters, seeing as we had the same build and waving long hair it worked on many who met us and we laughed at our deception.
But, as we all do, we began to grow up, I got more involved in my studies and father suggested that I moved to Paris to study whatever I chose as, according to him, they had the best schools. I thought this would be the end of mine and Christine's friendship and for a while it was. I moved like father suggested and began my studies in costume design and construction, what I found to be the perfect combination of creativity and arithmetic as I learnt how to fit garments that looked impressive and of the different care fabrics need. I loved my education. The thing that propelled me to succeed what the weekly letters received and sent from Christine and my parents. All I wanted was to make them proud. Soon the letters from Christine became few and far between and I assumed she had forgotten about me eventually. I hurt to think of, but I understood.
However one day my world came crashing down. It was a Wednesday afternoon; school had just finished for the day. It had been a marvellous day, I had finished my collection for a presentation that Friday and had nothing to worry about, I needed to write a small speech, but that was nothing. The city was busier than normal, it was market day, sweet smells filled the air and there was a pleasant buzz around the square. Across the way was the Opera Garnier, the place I hoped to work one day. I was transfixed by the building, I fantasised every night about working there, it would be long hours, with hundreds of costumes to create, I would ache, and it wouldn't be the best pay in the world but I loved the idea. For most it seemed like hell, I could talk for hours about my dreams of the future and no matter who I spoke to I would always get the same response, "Seems like a lot of pain for no thanks if you ask me." Or "who would want to work with performers, they're mainly snobs." Or something to that affect. Not even the people in my class agreed with me, they all wanted to design but not make the garments, I thought that was laziness. I believed, and still do, that hard work, driven by determination and passion, creates a masterpiece. I couldn't trust someone else with my designs, they'd have to be perfect in my eyes and if someone else made them I'd find too many faults, to the point where my staff would quit on me and I'd be doing it myself anyway.
"Samantha!"
I snapped out of my day dream and looked around, and then I saw Professor Valérius waving at me and standing next to a young woman dressed in a black cloak with the hood over her face. I made my way through the market crowd and over to the two of them. The woman looked up and I burst into a huge smile, it was Christine. It was clear, even from under the cloak that she had filled out into womanhood since I last saw her. Though she was different, it was like something was missing from her, like the shimmer in her eyes had gone out.
"Samantha," the professor began in mellow tone "I have some news for you, would you join us for dinner this evening?" I smiled thinking it would be wonderful to catch up, but Christine's eyes went puffy
"You can't do that to her!" She exclaimed, staring at him, she turned to me grabbing my arm "Do you live nearby? This cannot wait." Her tone worried me, my smile faded; I nodded and gestured behind them. They turn and looked surprised.
There was my building, a wooden front that looked quite impressive as it was looking onto the opera house but as I led them through the door for the two of them they saw it was a different story. It was, and still is just an inn. The reception was minimal, it had a few cushioned seats in which to wait by a fireplace that wasn't lit this early in the afternoon, a large wooden staircase and a wooden desk with a book and bell sitting upon it, my landlord leaning against it looking bored, as usual. He was a middle aged gentleman, about 50, and looked it, his hair was turning grey and he now wore glasses on a chain around his neck. He was lovely, the grandfather I never had.
"Samantha! You're back early!" he spoke welcomingly and embraced me in a hug.
"Gusto," I smiled and hug him in return, we moved away and a gestured to the two people behind me, "these are friends from back home, I thought it'd be nice to catch up, do you mind if they come upstairs?"
"Of course not!" he laughed at me "It's your room! Do as you like!"
I smiled again and led them up the stairs, which opened on to a large landing. I turn around the stairs and walked towards the front of the building, I then withdrew a key from the small bag which hug over my shoulder and open the door that led to my living space. It wasn't much, there was a cooker, sink and a few cupboards to the left of the front door with a chair positioned at the side of a cupboard that acted at a dining table. To the right stood another door, a desk, littered with papers and drawing equipment, an old jar sat on the floor, filled with dirty water and a few paintbrushes, a wedge of paper stuck under a leg to keep the desk balanced and second chair with a coat hanging off it. Right in front of us was a bed directly underneath the only window which had a perfect view of the square and the opera opposite, a set of draws were positioned by the pillow end of the bed, the a few photo frames with photographs of loved ones, while drawings of costumes and opera posters flooded the walls.
"It's not much," I sighed "But its home." The other two seemed to look around expecting something. I threw my bag on to the bed and quickly set to work, I brushed the papers from my desk onto the floor and dragged the table over to the kitchen area, throwing the coat from the desk chair on to the bed I moved the chair to join the table, and finally pulled the chair from the cupboard round to complete the set. I looked up smiling; they were still stood in the doorway. I laugh slight to myself, smoothed my dress tucked my loose hair behind my ear, trying to look more presentable.
"Please take a seat," I gesture to the newly moved table and chairs. Christine and the Professor seemed slightly dumbstruck but walked over all the same, leaving the door wide open, I walked over and closed it "Toilet's through there." I pointed to the only other door and I walked back over to the kitchen and rummaged in the cupboard "I'll make some tea; you look like you need it." I pulled out a metal kettle, filled it with water and placed it on the stove, "So have you just arrived in Paris?" I asked while digging for mugs.
"Yes." It was the professor who spoke, "We arrived by train, not an hour ago."
"Wow-oh-ow" I said banging my bed on the doorframe of the cupboard as I brought out three mugs, "So why the trip to Paris?"
"Well, we were looking-" he was cut off by the kettle whistling,
"Sorry," I said reaching over and grabbing it, I put it down on the counter, turned the stove off and quickly placed some tea in the mugs and filled with water "Milk?" I turned and asked
"Ah yes please." Smiled the professor while Christine shook her head, I nodded, place the kettle back on the stove and grabbed the milk from the cupboard above my head, I gave it a quick sniff to check its freshness and poured it into one mug, I grabbed a spoon from a draw gave them all a quick stir and placed two on the table.
"You were saying?" I asked leaning against the sink. The professor smiled, taking the mug in front of Christine, evidently the one with milk, as she reached across retrieving her own.
"We were looking for you." He continued
"Me?" I was a little confused "Why?" Christine let out a small wail, I glanced at her then back at the professor, he seemed to have the answers.
"Maybe you should sit down," he started, I frowned, put my tea on the counter but made no movement to sit, he nodded in appreciation and continued "I have some painful news," he paused, Christine wailed again, this was worrying, "There was a fire, at your house, we don't know how it started but we do know that it was brutal, you whole house was affected."
"And mother and father!? Are they okay?!" I queried eyes wide and moistening. He shook his head and looked and the buckles on his shoes. My legs felt week.
"We found the remains of three people," I collapsed to the floor "One, we know to be you mother," I looked up, tears streaming down my face, I looked at Christine for help, but she too was in tears, "we know by her necklace," he presented me with the silver necklace she always wore, a single diamond and ruby tear drop pendent on a chain, I whimpered, clutching it in my hand "Another, was your father, we believe he was trying to help your mother escape." I shook my head I wasn't hearing this, it couldn't be true, but then I realised.
"A-and the third?" I asked, broken
"Father!" Christine burst into loud sobs
"No," I whispered, "NO! This can't be true, tell me it's not true!" I was destroyed, all the family I had was gone, and Christine's too.
"I'm sorry my child," The professor tried to comfort me "I wanted to tell you that you are not be on your own, I will be around and Christine," he placed a hand on her shoulder "Christine will be moving into the opera across the way to become part of the ballet."
I was shocked, I couldn't believe my ears, I didn't want to believe it, it was all too much, and it must have been as then next thing I remember is waking up. To begin with I was happy, it must have all been a dream, but as I looked over I saw the necklace hanging off a framed photograph of my parents. I cried for what seemed like hours, I held my pillow tight and wept, feeling truly alone.