Wishing….

Author's note: this is my interpretation of what Christine's feelings must have been when she came to visit her father's tomb. This is my first phantom fiction so please go easy on me. I'm still getting in the swing of writing fan fiction. Oh, by the way I do not own Phantom of the Opera, the characters, or the musical. If I did, I'd have a butt load of money and wouldn't be typing up crap. Enjoy and please review! A very short ficlet:

The skies were gray above, deep and cold and the snow set in the ground, making her boots crunch the surface as she stepped towards the graveyard a handful of roses in her hands. Father had been dead all these years, she alone but now successful, torn between Raoul the love of her life, and the terror who had given her the voice she now possessed. At last she found the tombstone which kept her dear father and she gingerly placed the flowers on the snow before kneeling before it.

What would have happen if her father were still alive today? Would he be proud or frightened for her? Perhaps he would be both. She would never know and she wished he could see her. Was he watching her now? Was He watching her now? The Phantom… perhaps he stalked these graveyards and visited them daily. What was his secret loss? Surely he must have had parents, a father, a beautiful mother.

She looked around quickly before closing her eyes to pray over her father's bones. As she prayed, her thoughts drifted still further. Though she tried to reverently pray, she could not stop seeing The Phantom's horrifying face, disfigured, disgusting and frightening as it was, she could not get it out of her mind. It haunted her sleep and her waking for it was with her day and night.

The sun was slowly setting though the day seemed to come to an end quickly. She had had a long day. Her thoughts were always on something else even during rehearsal. Carlotta seemed to hate her more and more by the day and she could hear Phantom's voice deep within her head all hours of the day. If anyone were to find out who her tutor was…

Raoul, she figured, had something of a suspicion of what was going on. Without even thinking about it, she found herself humming as she thought of the recent occurrences. The melody weaved and fell and floated along as she knelt with her eyes closed, the snow beginning to fall slowly. At last it rose to its full climax and she opened her eyes.

There it was floating above her father's tomb, a violin playing by itself. She was truly frightened at such a site and yet so entranced by its haunting, beautiful melody. In fascination, she moved towards it as if in a trance. Behind it, appeared her tutor all dressed in black, his mask a terrible shadow. His voice entered her ears, clear and angelic such belonging to the Angel of Music, and he summoned her near. She could not help it, entranced still and she came towards him ready for eternity.