I walked to the stage of the opera house, amidst the thunderous applause and enthusuiastic shouts of my name. My beauty was radiant and there was an aura of blissful glory surrounding me, as I took my respective place on the piano bench on the stage of the glittering, luxurious opera house. As soon as my fingers found their home on the piano keys, a hush went over the audience as though they were hypnotized by the sound of me. My clear voice rang through the air, as beautiful and as delicate as the tinkling of the chimes on the gigantic chandelier above me. As the song ended, it was as though a spell had been lifted from the audience and they broke out into a roaring applause, even louder than before.
"Brava, Kristen, Brava!" they shouted my name. "Kristen!", "Kristen!", Their faces began to blur and fade away...
I could still hear my name being shouted for some reason. "Kristen!" the voices all turned into one voice, and that one voice turned out to be, none other than my father, Charles Chagny.
"Kristen, get a move on it! Your going to be late for school"
I groaned and shut my eyes again, hoping to relive that dream for just one more moment.
But harsh reality would not allow that, along with the realization that I am going to be late for school as it is.
I got out from under the warm sanctuary that my bed provides and faced the day.
I looked at my face in the bathroom mirror, and the girl staring back at me had long, curly sleep tousled hair, pale skin, and oh..a recent addition. A zit on my nose. I snorted.
"Yea, I'm a real radiant beauty", I said aloud, still thinking about my vivid dream.
I quickly pulled on a pair of cuffed, straightleg jeans, a white tanktop, and put my thick hair back into its usual, slighty messy ponytail.
I looked at myself in the full length mirror and sighed with discontentment at my appearance.
"Who am I expecting, royalty? Theres no one at school to impress anyway", I consoled myself as I galloped down the stairs at high speed, almost going out the front door without my lunch.
My dad stood there holding it, with a look of mock concern on his face.
"What would you do without me Kris?", he said, handing me my lunch.
"Go out in public," I replied sarcastically, causing both of us to laugh.
"I love you Kris, have a good day"
" I love you too Dad", I said , kissing him on the cheek.
I dearly love my dad. You see, my mum died when I was three years old, so its just been me and him for all these years. Fourteen and a half years to be exact.
I am 17 and a half and a senior at high school, in London.
My father is more than a father to me, he's a friend and I am closer to him that I am with anyone in the world, with the two exceptions of my best friends, Olivia and Lindsay.
Friends and family were few in my life, but Olivia, Lindsay, and my father mean so much to me that I consider myself lucky.
I scrambled to my seat in homeroom and luckily the teacher's back was turned, so he didnt see me sneak in.
Apparantly, no one else noticed either, as no one even looked up as I sat down at my desk.
Livy and Linds were not in my homeroom and I did not belong in any of the tightly formed cliques, whose conversations flowed behind me, beside me, and in front of me, but none of them inviting me to join in.
Amazing how you can be in a crowd of people, yet feel so alone, I thought.
I know of a great way to pass the time. I pulled my old, battered copy of the book, The Phantom of the Opera out of my bag.
This is my favorite story of all time, I have read the book at least 50 times.
My father and I both share a deep love for this story, and often we take turns reading it to each other at night after dinner.
It has become something of a ritual. Then, before I go to sleep, my father plays the violin. It is the most beautiful sound I have ever heard, like it is straight from heaven.
The shrill bell jolted me from my musings, making me jump.
The day passed in an uneventful blur. Funny how the populars always seemed to be having a great time, mostly by ridiculing those poor saps who are unfortunate enough to be labeled as a nerd. They did not see me as a nerd, exactly.
They just saw me as "that one girl in English class."
I wistfully stared at a couple passionately making out in the hallway.
I have never had a boyfriend in all my 17 years.
Kind of embarrassing, really. I've just never found the right guy for me, I suppose.
"Kris!", I heard Livy's familiar voice shout out behind me,
"Can you make it any more obvious that your scoping out that couple? "
I blushed. "Guess I didn't realize what I was doing."
"Yea, suuuure", she replied, laughing. "So come on, I'm taking you home today"
In the car Livy started in on her usual advice about my appearance.
"Kris, you would be so pretty if you just spent time fixing yourself up a little. You have that kind of old fashioned beauty that not many people have. Like, wear your hair down sometimes and wear makeup! Your hair is so curly and long, it would look great."
This was not an uncommon argument between me and the painfully gorgeous and fashionable Olivia. I groaned and rolled my eyes.
"That time before school that I dont spend primping, I spend getting extra sleep and I, for one, cherish that extra sleep!"
We pulled up to the driveway of my own slightly shabby flat.
Livy smiled, "Alright, I get it, and I officially give up on you!"
I smiled back, "Good."
"I'll call ya!", Livy said as I closed the door.
Home, finally! Now, I shall spend time with my one true love, I thought, running upstairs to my room.
Dad was still at work, so I had the house to myself.
Every day after school, I spend time with my keyboard and lose myself in the music that I make. My fingers moved rhythmically and purposefully over the keys, and my sopranos voice rang out, lovely and clear.
This was a song that I had written myself, and I liked how it turned out.
Like some beautiful aria you would hear at an opera in the 1800s.
Oh, how I wished to live in those days, swirling around the ballroom in the arms of a charming young man, not some pervert that I'm surrounded by at school every day.
I like to pretend that I'm Christine Daae whenever I sing. Dumb,I know, but I think she is the luckiest girl in the world, having Erik as her opera teacher.
I wish that someone would make music or something to Leroux's cherished book, so then I could learn it, and somehow feel a part of it.(A/N at this time time period, ALW had not yet written the musical, just in case you were wondering)
As the song progressed, I forgot about everything. I closed my eyes, and just became one with the music, loving its beauty.
I was in another world.
Until the end of the song, where I had written in an extremely high note, and I had thought that maybe I could nail it.
My voice cracked, bringing me back to the real world. I opened my eyes, angry. I sat there, silently fuming.
I would kill to have an opera teacher, but there is no way we could afford that.
I have great potential as a singer. Though, I would never say that to anyone else at the risk of sounding arrogant, I know that much is true.
And with an opera tutor to help develop my voice, who knows what new heights my voice could reach?
I threw myself on my bed and screamed into my pillow in frustration.
Didn't help.
Downstairs, the front door opened, and I picked myself up off my bed and went downstairs to greet my father.
"How was school?", my dad asked, giving me a hug.
I shrugged. ""It was school. How was work?"
He shrugged. "It was work." We grinned at each other.
"Reading our favorite story yet again?", he asked, looking at the POTO book that I had brought down with me.
"Of course," I said, thinking that that was a dumb question.
"Well, I'm glad that your so interested in some of the history of our family."
My dad has told me a million times of how we are descendants of the Chagny family.
I rolled my eyes."Thanks dad, for trying to make this book more real to me, but I know its just a story."
"You used to believe me."
"Dad, I was seven. I'm not a kid anymore. I can distinguish between reality and fantasy. I know that we are part french and that is how we got the last name of Chagny. But Christine and Raoul and the angel of music are not real. It is just a wonderful, but made up story."
My dad looked at me with what looked like pity and a little sadness in his eyes. "Well, it is true. And it did happen. I just hope that someday you will believe in it all. Especially in the angel of music, Erik."
I didnt know what to say, so I remained silent.
"Well", my dad said, clearly, wanting to change the subject, "how about I play a little violin tonight?"
My spirits rose, "Yes! that sounds great!"
"But first, I have a chore for you. I'd like you to clean out the attic. Theres alot of stuff up there that needs to be organized. I'd do it myself, but I have some yardwork to do before it gets dark."
"Dad! thats a huge chore!", I said stubbornly, "Who cares what the attic looks like?"
"I do. You'll survive."
"No I wont", I said babyishly, and frowned at him.
My dad smiled at me. "love you Kris."
I half smiled at him, "I guess I love you too," i joked.
I begrudgingly started my way up the long flight of stairs.
I cautiously stepped into the cobweby, musty attic. Its so weird that with all the four years that we have lived here, I have never been up here before.
I found the string and pulled, and the room was dimly illuminated.
The dull light cast eerie, spidery shadows across a surprisingly large room.
A chill ran the length of my spine causing me to shiver.
There was something about this room that was...I dont know.. I couldnt put my finger on it.
It was almost as if it were...magical.
I laughed aloud at myself for being so childish. The day I start believing in "magical" things is the day I become a famous opera singer, I thought cynically. I brushed away some dust off the floor so I could sit down.
"Alright, first things first," I said aloud, and grabbed the box nearest to me.
A tiny one.
I opened it and my blue eyes widened as I took out what looked to be an old fashioned music box, though a very dusty and cobweby one.
I cleaned it off with the bottom of my shirt and stared at it, a small smile playing on my lips.
It was a barrel-organ, with a cymbal playing monkey attached to it. It was quite charming looking. I wondered if father knew this was up here.
I twisted the bottom of it as far as it would go and listened. I got those strange chills again as I listened to the enchanting little melody that it emitted.
I loved how it sounded and I listened to it three more times. It seemed like it was more than just a music box.
Like it held many secrets of the past.
Why am I thinking like this? I shook my head and began to sort through various other things, humming the tune under my breath nonetheless.
Eventually, I came across a very large item in the corner, that had been hidden in the shadows.
It was covered with a white sheet. I reached out to pull it off, then froze.
I felt a strong sense of foreboding as to what might be under there.
Suddenly, I was nervous.
Then, feeling foolish for acting childish yet again, I boldly whipped off the sheet. It was a large oval mirror.
I laughed at myself for being scared of a mirror.
A beautiful mirror at that. I stared at the intricate golden designs that framed the old fashioned looking mirror.
Finally, I looked at my reflection in the mirror.
But the person who stared back at me through the mirror was not me.
I screamed and jumped backwards, tripping over a box and landing painfully on my back.
"Everything ok up there?", came the voice of my father.
I did not answer.
What in the world is going on, I thought wildly, not daring to look in the mirror.
Curiosity did get the better of me, and I took another look in the mirror and realized that the girl who stared back at me, was me.
But at the same time she was not.
She had my build, she had my hair and eyes, but it ended there.
This girl wore a stunningly exquisite dress, the kind that you would only see at grand balls years and years ago, with the tight bodice showing off her slender curves and the full, ankle length skirts.
The blue of the dress matched her eyes. Or should I say my eyes, for every time I moved she moved too.
"But it can't be", I said aloud, as I stared down at myself.
Yes.
I am still wearing my plain clothes and my hair is still a mess. This girl's hair was long, brown and curly like mine, but she clearly took care of her hair.
It was down, the glossy and volumptuous curls cascading down her back, and her face looked lovely with thetasteful makeup.
I want to be this girl in the mirror, I thought with such sudden determination that I surprised myself.
"Kristen, are you ok up there?", my father was halfway up the stairs to the attic.
Again, I did not answer, for a sudden thought had come to me.
A thought so wild and breathtaking that I hardly believed it possible.
I slowly started walking towards the mirror, as though in a trance.
From the deepest recesses of my mind, I could vaguely hear my father pounding on the door to the attic.
"Kristen, answer me! How can this door be locked? It only locks from the outside! What are you doing in there?"
I was right in front of the mirror now, and I timidly reached my hand forward, prepared to feel the cold, solid surface of the mirror, but to my utter amazement my hand went through as if there was nothing there but air!
And then it happened immediately, and I had no time to think.
I was jerked irresistably forward and my feet left the ground.
I was speeding forward in a howl of wind and swirling color, my hand still reaching forward as though it was pulling me magnetically onward, and then...
My feet slammed onto solid ground.
I was left staggering by the force at which I had stopped, and I toppled, butt first onto the ground, in a very non-graceful manner.
My heart pounding, I looked in the sliding mirror on the wall and my reflection was just as I had suspected.
I now looked exactly like the girl that had been in the mirror in my attic and, I thought with a grimace, I am most definitely wearing a corset.
What is going on, I wanted to yell at the top of my lungs, but instead I studied myself in the mirror, and an involuntary smile spread across my face, as I admired the dress.
It is awfully gorgeous.
I took in my new surroundings, and realized that I am in someone's bedroom.
Someone that has moved out, I noticed, as the room was completely empty and void of any personal belongings, and I got the feeling that no one has been in this room for quite some time.
Even so, the room was beautifully furnished. Like some small bedroom from back in the 1800s, I thought with a rush of excitement.
Curious to see if any other dresses were in here, I slid open the mirror to what I thought would be a closet, but instead was a long pitch black hallway.
Chills went down my spine. It was like a secret passageway.
But to what?
The light from the room permeated some of the darkness, so I could just make out the beginning of a long, stone passageway and there was a row of unlit torches mounted on both sides of the hallway.
Thinking that all of this was some elaborate, extremely vivid dream, I decided to explore this before I wake up in my boring bed back home.
I started to walk through the entrance but stopped myself.
I could not go exploring in this dress!
It would be ruined for sure.
I glanced back into the room and was startled to find that my old jeans and tank top were lying on my bed, neatly folded.
"Odd dream, this is", I murmured, as I changed back into my old clothes and carefully laid the dress on the bed.
I stopped to admire my new hair and makeup once more before stepping through the barrier into complete and utter darkness.
Little did I know, as a stranger to this dark and mysterious world, that Iwas most unwelcome in it.
ooooOOOOoooo.You actually read down this far! I worship you. I am like those little green guys in toy story, in awe of you guys. lol yeaa anyways, plz r&r, for there is much Erik yet to come.
