A/N: The author of this singular work implores the audience to contribute constructive criticism without resorting to the use of flames. Many thanks.
Prologue
Christine slipped into her bed chamber. Closing the door quietly behind her, she slid against it down to the floor. She gathered her knees to her chest and unleashed a sigh imbued with great confusion. Gazing upward, she took in her surroundings as if beholding them for the first time:
Pale blue lacy curtains that shrouded the windows and billowed at the touch of breezing winds; a soft lavender bedspread embroidered with roses; a dark polished wooden bookshelf with contents ranging from the children's literature that had enriched the days of her youth to the renowned classics whose complex language had yet to be comprehended by her still-developing scholarly intellect; the exquisite china dolls dressed in luxurious finery whom she had treated reverently and kept in immaculate condition.
Christine had been granted possession of the room when she and her father moved into the Valerius home twelve years earlier. As of then, it had been her fortress of solitude, a place of anxiety and alleviation, of dreams and nightmares, of tears and laughter.
But change was imminent.
In her clenched fist, Christine held an article that signified both the affirmative answer to her most earnest prayers and the horrifying actualization of her greatest fears:
Mademoiselle Daae:
Your success in the performing arts at the Perros Conservatory has come to the attention of the management of the Paris Opera Company. Your mentors at the Conservatory have recommended you in response to the notification of a currently vacant position in the Opera's chorus. You are hereby extended the offer of assuming the aforementioned position If you accept this offer you will be expected to commit to specified rehearsal and performance schedules which cannot be compromised to your convenience. Your response is expected by the fifth of May. Further information will be delivered upon acceptance.
Sincerely yours,
Messrs. Debienne and Poligny
Co management of the Opera Populaire of Paris
Christine was overwhelmed by the manner in which this small piece of parchment simply arrived out of the blue and determined her fate. Once Mama Valerius discerned its contents, there had been no question as to the nature of the response; the mere possibility of considering declining the offer had not surfaced in her mind
"She practically started to pack my suitcase right then," Christine thought, slightly bitter.
She pushed the thought aside. She was quite aware that her adoptive mother's enthusiasm was owed to her certainty of Christine's interest in the field of music and confidence in her ability to realize her ambition. Still, she felt somewhat like a troublesome adolescent being deported to some boarding institution that existed for the purpose of relieving guardians of stressful burdens.
The road ahead was perilously dark and stretched before her with alarming immediacy. However, the mist of unknowing as well as some time still foiled the way, and Christine did not care breach the obstacle with musing and speculation.
She deposited the slightly sweat-dampened letter on her bedside table and changed into her nightshift.
Crawling into a safe spot under the covers, Christine silently whispered the prayer that was the echo of her late father's beliefs, that had been a hopeful promise all her life:
Angel of God, my guardian dear,
To whom God's love commits me here,
Ever this day be at my side,
To light and guard, to rule and guide.
Amen.
Her eyes closed as the words carried her into unconsciousness.