Disclaimer: Nothing, 'cept a spiffy pencil. *balances it on her nose*
A/N: The prologue and the first chapter (this one) are a tad shorter than the others, so bear with me. I've already written up to chapter four, but suggestions would be helpful in your -reviews-. (Ahem, Ahem.)
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:Chapter 1-The Arrival:
When Erik awoke early next morning, he expected that he would begin composing immediately.
As he soon found, it wasn't that easy.
His eyes opened and scanned an unfamiliar place, brightly lit with signs upon every patch of wall. He appeared to be sitting on a long, gray bench that lined the sides of the room. Poles stood in various areas, as well as about a foot from the ceiling. If he tilted his head as far as it could backwards, he would be able to see a diagram with lights that ended just under the words '86th Street'. Not many people were inside with him, spare a small group of quiet businessmen, briefcases on their laps and eyes straight ahead.
As he stood, something dropped from his coat. Upon closer examination, he realized that it was a ticket of some sort. To a story entitled 'The Phantom of the Opera'. Phantoms? Operas? An eyebrow quirked as he sat back down, looking at the ticket. It read as follows:
'Majestic Theatre 245 W. 44th St. N.Y.C. The Phantom of the Opera 8:00 PM Fri Aug 8, 2003'
And then, off to a side:
'100.00 Orch J 110'
"Curious," he muttered to himself, placing the ticket back in his pocket. Once he found out where he was and what time he was in (for, surely, this could not have been the 19th century,) he would most certainly have to find out more about this Majestic Theatre.
Before he realized that they were moving, they stopped. Doors opened, and a voice from nowhere began speaking: 'This is a Brooklyn bound Express train. Next stop shall be: 125th street. Thank you,' it ended, and the doors closed. Erik noticed no change, except the one girl that had just entered. She stood before him, her arm encircled around a pole, her eyes buried in a paper titled 'Daily News.'
Obviously, she was different from the others on the 'train', as it was called. First of all, she was a woman. And yet she was wearing pants. Black pants, to be exact, and a black shirt, with the words 'Prima Donna' written in red across the front. Fishnet tights were, oddly enough, on her arms, along with black and red licorice-like bracelets. Deep brown hair with streaks of blood red fell to just below her shoulders, and seemed to be kept back, for now, by some sort of band with two ends stuck in her ears. Sharp blue eyes read the latest news, and her pale face showed a look of slight confusion.
A backpack was slung over one of her shoulders, and two pins decorated it. One being a small, white, circular pin reading 'I ? NY' and the other, a larger pin, with a mask and a rose on it, reading 'The Phantom of the Opera.' Perhaps she knew what this ticket was about.there would be no harm in asking her, in any case.
"Pardon, mademoiselle, could you tell me." he began, standing and tapping her lightly on the shoulder.
As she looked up, removing her headphones and lowering the paper, they both nearly gasped.
For there before them was someone they hadn't seen for a long time.someone who had never been forgotten.
Someone whom they loved.
A/N: The prologue and the first chapter (this one) are a tad shorter than the others, so bear with me. I've already written up to chapter four, but suggestions would be helpful in your -reviews-. (Ahem, Ahem.)
------------------------------------------------------------------
:Chapter 1-The Arrival:
When Erik awoke early next morning, he expected that he would begin composing immediately.
As he soon found, it wasn't that easy.
His eyes opened and scanned an unfamiliar place, brightly lit with signs upon every patch of wall. He appeared to be sitting on a long, gray bench that lined the sides of the room. Poles stood in various areas, as well as about a foot from the ceiling. If he tilted his head as far as it could backwards, he would be able to see a diagram with lights that ended just under the words '86th Street'. Not many people were inside with him, spare a small group of quiet businessmen, briefcases on their laps and eyes straight ahead.
As he stood, something dropped from his coat. Upon closer examination, he realized that it was a ticket of some sort. To a story entitled 'The Phantom of the Opera'. Phantoms? Operas? An eyebrow quirked as he sat back down, looking at the ticket. It read as follows:
'Majestic Theatre 245 W. 44th St. N.Y.C. The Phantom of the Opera 8:00 PM Fri Aug 8, 2003'
And then, off to a side:
'100.00 Orch J 110'
"Curious," he muttered to himself, placing the ticket back in his pocket. Once he found out where he was and what time he was in (for, surely, this could not have been the 19th century,) he would most certainly have to find out more about this Majestic Theatre.
Before he realized that they were moving, they stopped. Doors opened, and a voice from nowhere began speaking: 'This is a Brooklyn bound Express train. Next stop shall be: 125th street. Thank you,' it ended, and the doors closed. Erik noticed no change, except the one girl that had just entered. She stood before him, her arm encircled around a pole, her eyes buried in a paper titled 'Daily News.'
Obviously, she was different from the others on the 'train', as it was called. First of all, she was a woman. And yet she was wearing pants. Black pants, to be exact, and a black shirt, with the words 'Prima Donna' written in red across the front. Fishnet tights were, oddly enough, on her arms, along with black and red licorice-like bracelets. Deep brown hair with streaks of blood red fell to just below her shoulders, and seemed to be kept back, for now, by some sort of band with two ends stuck in her ears. Sharp blue eyes read the latest news, and her pale face showed a look of slight confusion.
A backpack was slung over one of her shoulders, and two pins decorated it. One being a small, white, circular pin reading 'I ? NY' and the other, a larger pin, with a mask and a rose on it, reading 'The Phantom of the Opera.' Perhaps she knew what this ticket was about.there would be no harm in asking her, in any case.
"Pardon, mademoiselle, could you tell me." he began, standing and tapping her lightly on the shoulder.
As she looked up, removing her headphones and lowering the paper, they both nearly gasped.
For there before them was someone they hadn't seen for a long time.someone who had never been forgotten.
Someone whom they loved.