Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters, Kay, Leroux, and Webber have the claims to them. If I did, I wouldn't be putting a story up on here, would I?
A/N: This is my first shot at a POTO story, so I would be grateful if the only criticism I get is constructive. Mainly this story is in the year 2002, about an American college girl (Cathryn Davis) who visits France on vacation with a few friends. While they're taking the tour of the Opera House one day, Cathryn disappears down one of Erik's famous trapdoors and meets the phantom himself. But is Cathryn really Cathryn Davis, or the incarnation of someone with the same initials?
"This feels weird," Jack said, peering out the taxi's window at the streets of Paris. "I keep wanting to shout 'Look out for the cars!' but its normal over here to drive on the left side."
"I know what you mean," Lori said, her head resting on Jack's shoulder. Cathryn and Ryan nodded in agreement, both trying not to look too embarrassed. With the taxi being so small and the driver adamantly refusing to let one of the four college students sit up front, Cathryn was stuck sitting on Ryan's lap. At least it's not as bumpy as the ride could have been if I sat in the seat! Cathryn thought to herself.
Cathryn Davis was a young, headstrong girl at the age of 24, with long blond curls, ice blue eyes, and a smile that could melt any man's heart. Cathryn was currently majoring in Psychology, with acting as her minor. She had a good speaking voice, yes (her father often said when she spoke she sounded like an angel), but she couldn't sing a note on key to save her life. That's why she chose acting as her minor instead of her major.
The taxi finally reached the Opera House, and they all piled out of the car. Ryan paid the driver, and everyone headed in. They arrived not a moment too late; the tour guide was just gathering everyone together. The quartet joined in at the back of the group, adjusting their eyes to the dim interior of the quiet Opera House.
"Andrew, I don't care if Michael Crawford wants a free front row seat, sell it to him at regular price!"
"But Fritz, he says he'll come perform The Phantom of the Opera here again if we do!"
"Andrew, Andrew, Andrew, you must understand: we cannot give free seats out to anyone, no matter what their social status, wealth, or power! It's our policy here!"
"But, but-"
"No, Andrew, we are not permitted! That's final!"
A balding, pudgy man with a mustache came storming out of a door with "Managers" embossed into the wood. He looked on the verge of apoplexy. The door opened and a tall, wiry blond young man came hurrying out behind him. There seemed to be an incurable twitch about his left eye.
"But Fritz! Won't you even consider it?!" the wiry man called after his fellow manager. Not receiving an answer, he took off in the direction Fritz left.
The Opera House became quiet once again.
"Anyways," the tour guide said, a startled look on her aged features. She began rambling off about the architecture, while Cathryn let her mind wander. She hadn't wanted to come to the Opera House in the first place, but her friends finally nagged her into coming. Glancing around, she looked at the intricate details of the décor. A surprisingly strong sense of déjà vu came over her. Puzzled but not alarmed, she followed the group along.
She fell farther and farther behind, the sense that she had been here before growing stronger by the minute. Finally stopping, she leaned up against a wall, trying to sort her thoughts out. There was no reason for her to have déjà vu; she had never been to France in her life. Perplexed, she stamped her foot on the floor, which had fallen asleep while she stood. There was a slight creak, and the floor dropped out from beneath her feet. She was too startled to make any noise, and the trapdoor snapped shut again, leaving no trace that it was there.
A/N: This is my first shot at a POTO story, so I would be grateful if the only criticism I get is constructive. Mainly this story is in the year 2002, about an American college girl (Cathryn Davis) who visits France on vacation with a few friends. While they're taking the tour of the Opera House one day, Cathryn disappears down one of Erik's famous trapdoors and meets the phantom himself. But is Cathryn really Cathryn Davis, or the incarnation of someone with the same initials?
"This feels weird," Jack said, peering out the taxi's window at the streets of Paris. "I keep wanting to shout 'Look out for the cars!' but its normal over here to drive on the left side."
"I know what you mean," Lori said, her head resting on Jack's shoulder. Cathryn and Ryan nodded in agreement, both trying not to look too embarrassed. With the taxi being so small and the driver adamantly refusing to let one of the four college students sit up front, Cathryn was stuck sitting on Ryan's lap. At least it's not as bumpy as the ride could have been if I sat in the seat! Cathryn thought to herself.
Cathryn Davis was a young, headstrong girl at the age of 24, with long blond curls, ice blue eyes, and a smile that could melt any man's heart. Cathryn was currently majoring in Psychology, with acting as her minor. She had a good speaking voice, yes (her father often said when she spoke she sounded like an angel), but she couldn't sing a note on key to save her life. That's why she chose acting as her minor instead of her major.
The taxi finally reached the Opera House, and they all piled out of the car. Ryan paid the driver, and everyone headed in. They arrived not a moment too late; the tour guide was just gathering everyone together. The quartet joined in at the back of the group, adjusting their eyes to the dim interior of the quiet Opera House.
"Andrew, I don't care if Michael Crawford wants a free front row seat, sell it to him at regular price!"
"But Fritz, he says he'll come perform The Phantom of the Opera here again if we do!"
"Andrew, Andrew, Andrew, you must understand: we cannot give free seats out to anyone, no matter what their social status, wealth, or power! It's our policy here!"
"But, but-"
"No, Andrew, we are not permitted! That's final!"
A balding, pudgy man with a mustache came storming out of a door with "Managers" embossed into the wood. He looked on the verge of apoplexy. The door opened and a tall, wiry blond young man came hurrying out behind him. There seemed to be an incurable twitch about his left eye.
"But Fritz! Won't you even consider it?!" the wiry man called after his fellow manager. Not receiving an answer, he took off in the direction Fritz left.
The Opera House became quiet once again.
"Anyways," the tour guide said, a startled look on her aged features. She began rambling off about the architecture, while Cathryn let her mind wander. She hadn't wanted to come to the Opera House in the first place, but her friends finally nagged her into coming. Glancing around, she looked at the intricate details of the décor. A surprisingly strong sense of déjà vu came over her. Puzzled but not alarmed, she followed the group along.
She fell farther and farther behind, the sense that she had been here before growing stronger by the minute. Finally stopping, she leaned up against a wall, trying to sort her thoughts out. There was no reason for her to have déjà vu; she had never been to France in her life. Perplexed, she stamped her foot on the floor, which had fallen asleep while she stood. There was a slight creak, and the floor dropped out from beneath her feet. She was too startled to make any noise, and the trapdoor snapped shut again, leaving no trace that it was there.