This is the Prequel to my story 'The Phantom Returns' I realised that it was getting popular and I figuered I could do something more then just the story sence it is almost finished and I've had so much fun righting it. BTW this is probly just a one shot. But I might just make it a very slow going story.

Becoming an Angel: The Story of Misty Walker

Born on the 9th of May in 1852 Misty Walker was born to John and Maria Walker two poor young people in a small neborhood a mile away from the Opera Populaire.

When Misty was two her mother Maria became very ill and soon was nearing death.

"Mommy?" Misty aproched the bed that her sickly mother lay on.

"Y-Yes Dear heart?" Her mothers feball voice whispered.

"When you going to play with me again?" Misty asked not understanding that her Mother would never play with her again.

Maria did not know what to tell her young daughter Misty was the poor womans whole world the family had practicaly nothing John brought home barely 50 francs a week and that was only enough for their supper.

"Not today My Lil' Mist. I'm still not fealing well." Maria said trying to hide her tears.

"B-But Mommy! You promised you'd get better soon!" Misty said stressing out the Soon part.

"I know Mist but I'm very sick." Maria tried to explain to her daughter in ways a two year old could understand.

"Misty! I'm home!" Came a happy voice from down the stairs.

"Mommy, Daddy's home!" Misty squealed her face lighting up as she ran down the stairs to great her father.

"Daddy! Daddy!" Misty said running and jumping into his arms.

"Hello My Mist, Give me that sweet heart kiss." Misty kissed her daddy and then wriggeled out of his arms.

"Have you been a good girl today?" He asked faking a stearn look.

"Always." Misty giggeled.


A few days later Misty was shut out of her mothers room and she did not understand why. All Misty knew is that her Father and the doctor that sometimes came to check on her mother had gone in leaving Misty holding the kitten that her father had brought home the day before.

"Tigger." Misty said stroking the orange tabbies coat said.

"Mommy's going to be ok you'll see She's going to come out of there all happy and smiling like she was when she wasn't sick. You didn't know her when she wasn't sick cuz daddy says you weren't bornded yet. Daddy says Mrs. Sandy gave you to him yesterday cuz you were just weanededed and he says that dat means dat you could leave you Mommy now." Misty heard murmurs from inside the closed door.

Being courious she put her ear to the door and she heard someone crying. An hour later her father and the doctor came out her father had tear stained eyes and he was very pale.

"Daddy!" Misty ran over to him poor Tiggers head bonceing as she move hurridly.

"Daddy is Mommy better yet?" She asked her face radiating the inoccence and happyness of a naive child the young naive child that Misty would and could no longer be.

"N-No My Lil' Mist. Your mother is not better she had to go."

"Go?" Misty asked her head cocking sideways.

"She had to leave but don't worry Dear heart s-she's." John fummbeled for words the words that could not come to him.

"Dear heart your mother has died." He said haning his head.

"What's died? Is it bad? Does it hurt?" Misty said her eyes wide with non-understanding.

"It means she had to leave for a long long time." The doctor said.

"But-but she promised she'd play with me." Misty said her eyes welling with tears.

"Misty..." Her father began as his daughter began to whimper.

"Misty listen...don't cry baby girl."


Three days later was the funeral. As Misty saw the casket close around her mothers pale unmoving body she hid behind her father and cried into his coat tails.


The next few months were hard on Misty and John eventualy lost his job in the pain of loseing his wife and then his job the young man turned to the bottle Leaving now three year old Misty home alone while he would spend his time at the taverns and the saloons. Misty would become excited when he came home she would have been sitting at the window looking out across pairs as the sun set behind the grand Opera Populaire with Tigger in her lap as the lazy tabbie would lounge in her lap she would stork his soft fur then when her father would walk through the door the small girl would run to him.

"Daddy your home!" She had said but her drunk father had been drowning in his sorrows at the pub and when he saw the little girl who was so happy to see him.

"What are you so happy about Moggot?" He sneared reaching back and smaking her across her left cheek leaving cuts with every smack.

This went on for two more years of her life.

When Misty was four years old she was playing outside with Tigger when the cat ran out into the road just as a horse and buggie was trotting down the road amd...

"Tigger!" Misty screamed as she ran out into the road and craddeled the limp tabbie in her arms and cried over the limp form.

Three days was Misty's fith birth day and she was gone.