Life was different at the turn of the century; New York was the place to be. New York, New York; the sights, the sounds, the wonder of the world were found here. And then there was Coney Island; the playground of the beaches of the island of Manhattan. What downtown New York couldn't give, Coney Island did. Shows and carnivals everyday, performances every hour on the how; silence could never be found.
Times were different; people wanted more than just simple side-shows. They wanted to be amazed and shocked by the hidden wonders that roamed the beaches of Coney Island. That's when we arrived on Coney Island. Ten years ago that's when the islands mysteries were revealed to us; me and my brother, Gustave. Our life was altered those few days we spent on Coney Island. We learned that the world wasn't all that beautiful, not simply beautiful. There was hidden beauty underneath the foundation of Coney Island.
This was when we came to find the spectacle of Coney Island; Phantasma. It was the city of wonders; created by Mr. Y, who was someone you wanted to meet on a good day. But when you wanted to see him, he was never around to be found. He had it all; human prodigies, astonishing thrills and performances by the soprano of the century, Christine Daaé. She was my mother and best friend when I needed her more than a mother-figure.
This journey from the beautiful land of Europe to the amazing America changed not only our life, but the life the man who summoned us to Coney Island. Tragedy and jealous were unexpectedly found here, where the joy and excitement of Phantasma casted its spell over the world. It revealed to us the truth that had been be hidden and the secrets of the family that were somehow been overlooked by others.
This was a story that I would never forget of, for as long as I would live. Truth and passion were hidden within its blanketed cover, while rage and injustice lingered in its pages. I don't know how many times I've looked over this old journal, containing everything; the secrets, the curses, and all the terrifying memories that still haunt my dreams. And yet I still dream of happier times that brought me and Gustave such joy and peace. But so many sad and gloomy memories to cloud our happy days when we were here on Coney Island.
I still look out over the sea and see the wonders of the world that was Coney Island. And yet now, it all seems to be a distant memory that has faded and changed over time. Characters have left and gone while I still linger here, waiting for the good times to awaken from their deep slumber. I await the sound of music to caress my broken spirit and heal my dead heart.
"Elizabeth…"
"Gustave, my dear brother. How are you?"
He shook his head, trying to smile "I have had better days."
"How is father?" I exclaimed, putting the journal down and hugging his neck.
"He is alright. He wants to see you."
I hadn't seen my father in almost a month. The life of a great extraordinaire writer of just the age of 21 was already chaotic. Me being the best of any writer in New York meant for me to be kept from my family and sometimes my dearest friends.