Disclaimer (as I don't feel like being fighting a civil lawsuit): Not all of this is mine. It's based on a roleplay, Raoul played by Whosyourdaddy13 from neopets, and the voice (who later recieves a name) was played by Neshomeh from various different rp sites, but can be found under that name here at I played Christine and Marie, although both were started by somebody else whose name escapes me. None of their material did I use, so that I don't remember their name doesn't really matter.Sadly, most of the characters aren't mine. Christine, Meg, Raoul, and the random voice, and the Opera Foyer were all created in the mind of Gaston Leroux, a genious in every meaning of the word.

And now, onto the show

A young woman made her way up the stairs of the Grande Foyer, a mask in one hand, the hem of her scarlet gown in the other. Her parents were ahead of her, already walking elegantly through the doors and into the lobby, which had been converted into a ballroom for the occasion. When she reached the top of the steps, she was awed by the sight before her. The great gold doors lay open, the suggestive female sculptures inside welcoming her. As she walked through the doors, she was swept up in the explosion of color and sound within the building. The purest shades of gold, red, white, and blue swirled throughout the hall, making the girl dizzy. Beautiful masked figures danced around her, adding to the dream-like state of the building. She couldn't see where her parents had gone, and was bout to call out for them when a dancing couple bumped lightly into her.

"Excuse us… Christine? Christine Daae, is that you?" the woman asked, removing her mask. The girl lowered her own. "Why, you haven't age a day! You look confused. Surely you haven't forgotten me?" The woman looked familiar. She must have been in late thirties, early forties perhaps. Her dark eyes and jet-black hair contrasted beautifully with the white of her dress.

"No, I am Marie de Chagny, Christine's daughter." Suddenly Marie could place a name to the aging face. "You must be Meg Giry! My mother has told me many stories of you. She thought of you a sister."

"And I of her." Meg replied with a smile. "You look just like your mother. Is she here? I should very much like to speak to her." She began to look around for her old friend.

"She is, but I haven't the slightest clue where she and père have gone…" She trailed off. As she had been looking around for her mother, Marie sighted a set of large black doors on the other side of the room. All sound was drowned out as she stared at the misplaced black among all the bold colors. She nodded absently to Meg, and navigated her way through the crowd, eyes never leaving the door.

The great doors stood before her, beckoning her to enter. Marie obliged, pushing the doors ajar and stepping inside. As soon as she released her hold, the door closed with a dull thud, sending dust swimming around her dress. Slowly her vision adjusted to the dim, candle-lit room. It was the theatre, the very theatre in her mother's stories stood before empty in the darkness before her. It looked as if it had not been used in years. She walked forward, feeling the dirty velvet of the seats and the texture of the walls. When she reached the second row, she realized she no longer had her mask. No matter, she didn't want to be here anyway. Eventually her conscience got the better of her, and she decided to look go back. She was turning to leave when the sound of movement from above the stage startled her. Marie felt something in the old theatre, another presence. She could almost hear it breathe in the stillness.

"Who's there?" she called to the void behind the stage. No response came, but she still felt something was there. "Who's there?" A low laugh resonated throughout the room. "Why aren't you at the party?" The laughter ceased.

"The question is, my dear, why aren't you at the party? What is your name, child?" the voice asked. Marie had no answer to the first question, but the second seemed innocent enough.

"Marie. Marie de Chagny. Might I ask with whom I am speaking?" she asked of the voice. If one part of her mother's faerie tales was true, why couldn't another be as well?

"De Chagny? Girl, what was your mother's name?" The voice demanded ugently.

I know, short and lame. This isn't complete either. I'm going to add more beforepoor little Marie walks unsuspectingly into the theatre. Just throwing this out there to see if thebasic idea floats.Don't worry, it gets better, I promise. Updates and next part comming soon.