A Reflection of the Past
Prologue
(Present Day, Paris)
An elegant, young woman walked slowly through the snow-filled cemetery. The frigid breeze swept her dress around her ankles and she shivered involuntarily. She stopped abruptly at a small, stone grave marker and looked down at it solemnly. Tears clouded her eyes, rendering her unable read it, but it did not matter, she already knew what it said.
'Lise and Jean Renoir
1950-2001, 1948-2001
Loving parents of Natalie Renoir'
'Formerly loving parents of Natalie Renoir', the woman thought. 'Formerly. They are no longer my loving parents.'
The girl, Natalie, had lost her parents three years past in a car accident. Now, she was eighteen. She still came every day to visit, rain or shine, 'or snow', she thought.
Natalie blinked furiously and bushed her tears away. Crying wouldn't help. She looked down at the blood red roses she held her pale fingers, twined around their fresh stems, remembering why she had come. She placed them carefully in the cup at the marker's base. 'Now they are nothing more than a memory'.
Natalie pushed her black hair out of her face and began to walk back towards the cemetery's large, iron gate. She stopped when a name on one of the many other gravestones caught her eye.
'Christine de Changy'
Natalie drew in a sharp, cold breath and read the rest of the crumbling stone.
'Christine de Chagny
Loving Wife and Mother
Born 1854, Died 1917'
Natalie had heard the stories; she had heard her parents and their friends talking of this woman. Her mother had told her the story of the Phantom of the Opera and his muse. How he had loved her so, and she had left him, left him for Raoul de Chagny. Her mother had told her that some believed the story to be true, while others waved it off as fantastical nonsense. Natalie had stopped believing it long ago. She remembered wishing that Christine had chosen Erik. She had felt sorry for him. She had wept for him at night, for he had had to let go of the one person he ever loved.
Now, Natalie stood, in front of Christine Daae's gravestone, realizing that her childhood story, the one she had grown up listening to, was indeed true, for if Christine had existed, Erik would have as well, as would the Opera Populaire, the mirror…and Erik's home.
Natalie ran off as fast as she could. It was time to pay a visit to the place she had only seen in her many dreams…
A/N: Well, here it is. I've been planning it for a while now; I hope you all enjoy it!
:whips out Punjab, smiling innocently:
Hey, I saw the phantastical movie againlast night...8th time...;)...Gerry...;)