Yet the Soul Obeys
After a trip to her Majesty's Theatre in London, Christina Donahue, the reincarnation of Christine Daae becomes the heroine and desperately searches for her modern day Erik. But even if she finds him, will he remember the music?
This first chapter is just an introduction to her life before she becomes the diva. I promise it will get more exciting once things start changing.
I promise most all of my geography and little details about London are correct. Or mostly correct.
I own nothing! Tragically enough.
Just before elegant fingers completed the tie on a dressing robe, a cold wind blew through the dressing room, snuffing all of the candles and bathing the young singer in complete darkness. A sharp breath was drawn in anticipation of what would inevitably occur next.
"Bravi, Bravi, Bravissimi."
Her eyes close against her will and she leaned into the passionate voice as if it were a caress, not a mere sound. His voice could move her like nothing else, no music was as beautiful, no voice more pure than that over her angel's.
"Angel…."
Christina Donahue woke in a cold sweat, rubbing her temples in frustration.
"Oh god that voice…always that voice…I'll never be free of it."
This was not the first dream of its kind; in fact, she had been having them since the night of her sixteenth birthday. Always these visions of fame and applause, candles, seduction and a love she could not even imagine had haunted her sleep. For two years now she had loathed each night, praying for insomnia as every night she was disturbed by images of the opera house. Not that the dreams were unpleasant at all, but she always woke up with the most painful sense of longing she had ever known.
She sighed and looked at the clock. The luminous red digits told her it was six A.M, two hours before she needed to be at work.
"Might as well get up, it's not like I'll get anymore sleep" She stated to no one.
Her life had been filled with an abundance of no one for what seemed like a very long time. Her only living relative, her father had died when she was thirteen, mere months after moving he and his daughter to England. The only other person that had ever cared for her was her childhood sweetheart, Raymond Chaney. His family been supporters of the concert hall which her father frequently played in. Gus Donahue's career as a concert violinist had brought them all over Europe before finally settling in London.
Ray had immediately taking a liking to Christina, just as she had him. They were inseparable for years. He was the sweetest boy any girl could possibly ask for. Things were perfect for them, he filled the giant gap left by her father. She even lived with his family for awhile after her fathers death.
Then disaster struck. In the summer of his seventeenth year, the adorable young blonde boy was diagnosed with leukemia and for the second time in her life, Christina learned to deal with the loss of the center of her life.
Her eyes strayed unwillingly of a photograph of her and Ray, taken in the afternoon sun of the English countryside…they looked like the happiest teenagers in the world, and at that time, they might have been.
That was behind her now. Now it was merely a matter of wasting time until she was scheduled to show up at the Savoy, where she worked as a concierge. She tore her eyes away from the photograph and traipsed to her bedroom window.
An easy smile fell upon her lips as she flung open the curtains, peering down on the hustle and bustle of Bayswater in the early morning. She loved this district of London, it was quiet but exciting at the same time, and just a short walk from the serenity of Kensington Gardens.
She sighed and smile faded. "Not much to do but get ready for, is there Ayesha?" She asked the lazy Persian that scuttled around her legs. The cat had belonged to her Indian neighbors who moved out sometime ago, leaving her with the aging feline. She had always thought of Ayesha as a blessing, bringing her some form of company.
She flicked on her stereo and began humming to the latest poppy drivel as she made her way to the shower. Her voice was always something she had taken pride in, she had never had any form of training but it was still somewhat beautiful in its natural state.
She walked briskly on the cobblestone pavement of the subway station, proud of herself for making such good time. Getting there at seven meant she'd be able to leave at five, just in time to meet her beset friend Megan for their girl's night out. The excitable blonde had promised a good surprise and a fun night on the town. Where Megan was concerned, heaven knows what that could mean.
She smiled as she walked towards the glimmering façade of the hotel, anticipating a pleasant night off with her friend.
Work passed as fluidly as it always had, her winning smile earning her several discretely passed five pound notes for her assistance.
"Ten minutes…In ten minutes it will be noon and I can have lunch and get out from behind this damned counter." She mumbled to herself, gazing at the large golden clock.
Lost in the depth of though, she accidentally elbowed a ledger off of the counter and disappeared behind its mahogany surface to pick it up. When she returned to her post, she nearly dropped the item again. In front of her was standing the most intriguing customer ever to walk through the gilded revolving doors.
One side of his face bore several shallow scars that somehow only added to his appeal. He looked to be middle aged, maybe thirty or forty. He was obviously a man of some means, yet the grace with which he carried himself clearly came from natural pride, and not from money.
He wore a black hat, very unusually in this day and time, even for a rich British man. His hair was dark brown and slightly wavy and his eyes…oh god she felt lost in those eyes. What colour were they, green…or were they blue? Was that a hint of gold? It was hard to tell in this light, they seemed to change as the looked upon her.
When he smiled at her she realized what she was doing. Or rather, what she wasn't doing.
"Good Day sir, my name is Christina Donahue, may I help you?" She couldn't help but notice the waver in her voice." This man commanded respect, this man…was such a man! His broad shoulders were perfectly proportionate to a body that from her point of view, looked exceptional.
He flashed another heart-rending smile at her.
"Good morning Ms. Donahue. My name is Destler, Erik Destler. And I'd like to check in."
Funny, she didn't remember seeing his name on the reservation list.
She turned around to find the list, buried under requested magazines and menus from expensive restaurants.
"Let's see, Davidson…DeMariner…and then Dolton…I'm sorry, I don't seem to see your name. Are you sure you have a reservation sir?"
"In a manner of speaking. I'm accustomed to merely stopping by when I'm in this part of the country. Generally I have room 612 reserved, so one could say I have permanent reservations."
She put the ledger down and smiled nervously.
"I apologize sir, my mistake."
Oh god, she thought. Oh god. I've offended a very very rich man who could have me fired. Oh god.
"Oh not a problem, it's just my strange way not to call ahead. Don't trouble yourself. If you'll just activate a bill and give me the keys I'd be much obliged."
Her face relaxed in visible relief for not being chastised for such an oversight.
She made a few brief taps on the computer. He had stayed her before and as he said, had room 612 permanently reserved. She smiled again, attempted to look composed and handed two card keys to him.
"Thank you for your business and feel free to let us know if you need anything at all."
He placed a ten-pound note on the counter and tipped his hat.
"I'm sure I will madam, thank you for your assistance."
As he turned away to the elevators with his one large bag, she allowed herself another look at his form. His business suit was perfectly fitting and extremely well made, the dove gray wool making him look like he wondered out of nineteenth century Paris.
She glanced at the clock again. A coffee break would be the perfect ending to her interlude with the most amazing customer ever to walk into the Savoy.
After keeping a careful watch in the elevators all day, to see if Mr. Destler would make another appearance, she eventually resigned herself to disappointment and got ready to leave.
She picked up the desk phone and called Megan's cell.
"Are you ready?" Christina asked in her crystal clear voice.
"Yeah, yeah, right as rain. Meet you at the Piccadilly station in twenty."
"Piccadilly…what are we doing?"
"Don't worry about it, just go!" Megan's slight French accent made her plea sound more urgent.
Christina shook her head at her anxious little friend, quietly placing the receiver down and exiting the hotel.
Evening subway traffic had turned twenty minutes into thirty, she hoped Megan wasn't angry.
Christina resigned herself for simply waiting for the escalator to take her to the top level, as no one else seemed intent on actually walking. She entertained herself with looking at the many posters that adorned the tiled walls of the station.
Most of them were for cell phone companies, and new kind of detergent, insurance companies, things like that. One in particular caught her eye, just as it always did, whenever she saw it.
A young girl with hair just like her own, long, brown and curly, sat half nude, demurely covering herself with a white gown and a feather as a half masked face loomed in at her from behind the vanity mirror.
"The Phantom of the Opera."
It said, boasting about being the longest running and most exciting show in London. She had never seen it before, seeing musicals was something that never really occurred to her. Her time was spent working and doing…other important things that didn't really come to mind at the moment.
As she fed her ticket stub through the machine she could see a bouncing head of blonde hair, waving at her from beside a magazine stand.
"Sorry I'm so late Megan, Central line had all kinds of delays."
"It's alright, but we've got to get going, I want to get a drink and a bite to eat before it starts!"
"Before what starts?" She yelled as she was dragged up the damp stone stairs and thrust into the cool evening air.
"Megan, where are we going?" She asked confusedly as she stole a glance at the cupid statue, as always rife with tourists and local Londoners who found it entertaining to just sit on one of London's most famous landmarks.
"Haymarket Street!"
Her internal map of the city popped up in her mind. Haymarket had a coupled of stores, a large fountain with a statue of three horses, some restaurants, business and theatres.
Theatres. That was it. Megan loved the theatre. She had been a dancer before a fall but her backstage instead. Now she floated around the West End, going from venue to venue, helping with makeup and costume design.
She stopped asking questions and followed her friend down the sloping street.
"I knew it." She remarked as they stopped outside of a brilliant piece of architecture.
"I knew we were going to the theatre."
Her friend flashed her a smirk.
"Yes, but you didn't know which theatre or which show."
This comment caused her to take a closer look at the signs all around her.
Her Majesty's Theatre
The Phantom of the Opera
Now she would understand what all the posters were bragging about.
"You've never seen it before and no one should live in London without having see it, it's the most amazing thing in the whole world. This show will change your life. Little Megan could not then have known the absolute truth in those words.
"I bought our tickets earlier from a discount booth so we don't have to stand in that line." She indicated to the long queue of patrons standing at the ticket stall.
"They're excellent seats! First row, right in front of the orchestra pit! The rich people don't like these close seats, they think they're too close for comfort, but with this show, I'd spend a fortune just to have these!" She held out two yellow tickets, proudly showing Christina the seat numbers.
"Consider this an early birthday present!"
After a quick drink and a snack from the bar they hurriedly made their way down the red-carpeted hallways to the stalls section of the theatre.
Christina froze. Something about this moment, about Megan's yellow hair bobbing in front her as she led her through the slightly darkened hallway struck a familiar chord in her memory.
"Something wrong Christina?"
She shook it off as a lapse in memory.
"No no, nothing at all, lets get to our seats."
The young girls made their way to the very center of the row.
Megan pushed a worn program into her friend's hands.
"So sense on spending six pounds on one when I have a dozen."
Christina smiled at her friend as she opened the shiny black pages.
"I can't thank you enough Megan, this means a lot to me."
Her response was a reassuring smile and a finger to her lips as the lights dimmed.
And there you have it. Five reviews and I'll update. I'm just stingy like that. That's not much though, is it? I know its not a very good story, but would it really tax you so to click review? please?