Dear Diary,
The angel played at my fathers grave,Oh, how I miss papa's playing, but I have pleased the Angel of Music!I thought he'd never play for me again. I shall keep singing for him and shall not marry.
How can I risk his leaving?
Sincerely,
Christine
Victoria read the small book on the train. Her mother's old journal, for it was also in the drawer, was a gold mine of information.
Dear Dairy,
Poor Raoul! He was found this morning half frozen in the Churchyard, did he follow me out there?
What happened to him? He claims he saw something, some demon or ghost.He passed out and was lying there all night.
Upset and concerned,
Christine
Victoria laughed, the count? Passed out? Well from what she'd known of him he deserved it. But she turned the page and jumped, for there, in her mothers hand was what she may have been searching for.
Dear Dairy,
Thank goodness the week is over! How horrific!
My angel is no more and never was, he is a man. And a dreadfull one at that.
Yet I pity the man, for Erik is so miserable! What am I to do? He loves me!
Christine
The train pulled in and Victoria ventured out into the streats of Paris
SORRY! REALLY SHORT CHAPTER HUH? Yea, I suck need nead to write more, but hey, at least I wrote something!