I do not in any way, shape, or form own any part of "The Phantom of the Opera" in any of its various representations.
Original novel "Les Fantome de l'Opera" was by Gaston Leroux.
My story is based on Andrew Lloyd Webber's musical (the 2004 movie version) starring Gerard Butler, Patrick Wilson, and Emmy Rossum.
My story features several direct qoutes from the movie, which I use to compare the time frame of my story with that of the movie's.
Prologue: Erik's Dream
Erik saw Christine standing alone in a cemetery. He watched as she kneeled in front of a tombstone, placing a bouquet of lilies before it. He could tell she was holding back tears… He wanted to comfort her, guide her, embrace her to make all her pain disappear, but he couldn't move. Something was holding him back. He struggled desperately to escape from the wicked silver hands holding him, but it was no use. "Christine!" he shouted, trying to reach her. She didn't hear him. "CHRISTINE!!! Angel of music!!!" Still, his words fell upon seemingly deaf ears.
He paused his fight as he saw Christine pick up a second bouquet of flowers… these were roses bound in one thick black ribbon. Erik sat in disbelief as she placed the roses by a tombstone immediately next to the first. She placed the roses with an angel's touch, and her hand did not leave the flowers. Erik sensed it, the moment of silence before… she cried. Tears began streaming down her face, and Erik screamed like never before; "I must be with her! CHRISTINE!!!" Yet the silver hands gripped his chest ever stronger as he watched Christine's tears, heartbroken. "Christine…"
He looked down at the silver hands grasping him, flowing like a liquid mirror. He gripped the silver wrists, and pulled with all his heart and soul. He wrenched himself free from the icy grip, and laughed gleefully as the silver mass crumpled to the ground. He turned to run to Christine and hold her close, but he stopped dead in his tracks. Christine was gone. Erik let out a moan of anguish, for in her place was Raoul de Chagny. Erik could feel his hatred brew in his heart, and he walked slowly towards the Vicomte.
Suddenly, the Vicomte rose from his kneeling position, picking up the black-bound bouquet of roses. He turned slowly towards Erik, who stopped his approach as he felt the Vicomte's gaze fall upon him. It was not a gaze of hatred… but it was something that held Erik in place more strongly than any mirror-bound monster. The Vicomte slowly walked towards Erik, holding out the roses. "Erik… help me… help her…" His voice drifted, as with the wind, and Erik didn't know what to do, his mind and soul were beyond recovery, and he just wanted to scream…
"Raoul!" Erik bolted upright, sweat dripping down his face, back and chest. The shock of the dream was almost as strong as what he had just said. "Raoul?.. Christine! Christine…" He lay back down, so confused he just wanted be with his precious Christine. But in his mind he saw Raoul gazing at him, capturing him with that feeling… it was a long night that lay ahead for Erik.
Sorry if this seems too serious or boring. Better stuff is coming in the first chapter!