Summary: It has been sixteen years since Christine left Erik behind with Raoul. The year is 1903. Chrissy, a poor teenage girl at the age of 16, has lived alone with her father below the New York Opera house since her mother died. Until one day, an older but very beautiful woman comes to the opera house with her husband and very attractive son, Marc. Chrissy and Marc begin to fall for each other and begin to discover things about their parents' mysterious pasts. Can Chrissy and Marc discover the truth behind it all and do they have a chance of being together?
The Phantom's Return
"Quickly," someone whispered in the dead, dark night, "We must do it now, before someone sees us!"
Two shawdoy figures rushed through the dark passage ways beneath the New York Opera House. The year was 1887. A man and a woman were looking for the small river that flowed beneath the opera house from the streets below. The woman was carrying a basket. Little did they know that another figure was watching them from the shadows.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" the man asked, as he took the basket from the woman.
"We have to!" the woman said, "Did you see it's face? It's hideous? We cannot live our lives with this! No, we set it afloat in the river. Someone else will find it and raise it or send it to the orphange!"
"And what if no one finds it?" the man asked.
"Then the thing shall go back to hell from where it came from!"
The woman placed the basket into the water. She gave it a small push and watched it float by in the slow current.
"No one will have seen us in here. If someone finds it, they will not know it is ours!" the woman said.
As fast as they had came, the man and the woman quickly left the river side underneath the opera house. As soon as they were out of sight, the creature stepped from the shadows.
A man, six years older now with a new mask upon his face, walked over to the basket which was floating by slowly. Curious as to what was inside it, he pulled it out of the flowing waters. He lifted off the lid to a surprising site.
Inside the basket lay a small, sleeping baby girl. She had dark curls on the top of her head and was dressed in what looked like her Christining dress. But her face, why her face was identical to the man that looked down upon her. For the man was The Phantom of the Opera.
"Her parents just left her here to die?" Erik said, starring at the little girl. For he knew that there was no chance of a basket of this size to be able to get out of the passage way.
Trying to decide what he should do with the baby, she began to cry.
Erik had an idea. He scooped the tiny little girl out of her basket and rocked her in his arms. She quieted quickly and fell back to sleep with contentment. Erik walked the little baby back to his labyrinth below the New York Opera House to care for the child.
"Don't be afraid, my daughter." he whispered to her. "Daddy's here, he'll protect you, my little Christine."
It was early one Friday morning outside the New York Opera House. The sky had turned a steel blue and they stars were fading. The giant river that flowed underneath the opera house was glistening in what little light was in the air. A shadowy figure was wading it's feet in the icy waters and singing a soft tune to itself.
The figure was a young, 16-year-old young lady. Christine was her name, but to her father, she was Chrissy. Chrissy had long, black, curly hair and bright brown eyes. She had the singing voice more beautiful than a choir of angels. She dreamed of being on the stage singing opera for all of New York to hear, but one small, but ever so crucial detail stood in her way.
Chrissy wore a mask over her face. She was born with a terrible skin infection that made her face hideous to look at. Her father, Erik, always engouraged her not to wear a mask. However, it was her choice to wear it. Erik had the same condition. He also wore a mask and rarely ever saw him without it.
Chrissy, still singing softly in the cold, early morning air, was looking around. Her father hated her to be outside. He always told her that people of society never would accept people like them. Chrissy, following her father's wishes, would always watch the little children playing in the streets from a small window that was the only source of sunlight in the entire tunnels and passages underneath the opera house. Ever since she could remember, she had dreamed of playing the fun, inspriring games with the other children. Never had Chrissy had a real friend, other than her father. The games they would play were always fun. She had had more singing and music lessons than she knew, but never had she had real, child's play. A small tear fell from her eye as she thought about what might have been if she had not been born with such a condition, which, her father always told her, she, unfortunately, inhiereted from him.
Suddenly, the sound of horses stopped her quiet, sorrowful singing. Chrissy quickly pulled her feet from the freezing river and ran around the outside of the opera house to the front. There, she saw an unusual site.
A carriage had just pulled up in front of The New York Opera House. Two gorgeous brown, throughbred horses were puffing out warm, foggy breath in the morning air. The coachman climbed down from his post of steering the carriage and opened the door.
Out from the carriage stepped a handsome, some what aged man. Even in the dim morning light, Chrissy could see the gray shinning in his brown hair. He held his hand out to allow a woman, also aged, but very beautiful, out. She had brown curly hair. Chrissy thought she looked oddly familiar, as if her father had shown her a picture a long time ago of a similar woman.
The next moment, a young boy, around the age of 20, followed the woman. He resembled the man greatly, but much younger.
"Oh, my goodness!" Christine gasped. He was the most handsome 20-year-old boy Christine had ever seen, and that wasn't because it was the only 20-year-old boy she had ever seen.
"You're going to perform here tonight, Mom?" the boy asked the woman.
"Yes, Marc," the woman said, "It's a bit different than Paris or London, but I think we will enjoy it here."
The woman looked at her husband. He was starring at the opera house apprehensively.
"Darling, what is it?" she asked.
"Nothing, dearest, it's just that...I'm always afraid he might be here."
"Oh, honestly Raoul!" the woman replied, "Everytime we go to a new opera house whether it be in a new city or a new country, you're always afraid he might be here. It's been 22 years for goodness sakes and no one has seen hide nor hair of him. He's gone and he's not here."
"You can talk!" the man named Raoul replied, "He didn't try to kill you!"
"No, he just tried to force me to stay with him for all eternity! Relax, darling, we are fine! He is not here."
The man named Raoul smiled and took his wife's hand as they walked up the stairs to the front door. Chrissy knew for a fact that the owner, Mr.Harrison, who always paid her father his monthly salary and always kept Box 5 open for them both so they could watch the operas, would already be there to greet this family. He always arrived early.
As his parents went up the stairs, the boy named Marc was looking at the outside of the opera house. Chrissy had found him intriging, not only was he extremely handsome, he and his family also spoke French. The only other people who could also speak French like her was her father, Erik, and Mr. Harrison.
Chrissy continued starring at Marc. But, a moment later, his eyes, feeling her gaze, snapped over to her. She was hoping it would be too dark for him to see her. Unfortunately, she was wrong.
"Hello, what are you doing their, Mlle?"
Chrissy gasped again. She fled in fright as quick as she could back behind the opera house and over to her secret entrance near the river. Marc ran to catch up with her, but by the time he reached the back of the opera house, she was gone.