"Hope is like peace. It is not a gift from God. It is a gift only we can give one another." ~ Elie Wiesel
.~❤~.~❤~.~❤~.
December 25, 1862
Dearest Diary,
Pappy has bought you for me to keep me company while we travel. I will tell you a bit about myself. My name is Christine Elizabeth Daaé and I am seven years old. My birthday is on June 17 and I like the color purple! I live with my pappy and we are traveling all around Europe! My best friend is Raoul, but I haven't seen him in a long time. I miss him.
~Christine, seven years old
September 3, 1863
Dear Diary,
Papa and I left Sweden over a year ago and we never stopped moving. We are in Belgium this month. Next month, who knows. Every night, I have wished upon a star. What have I wished? Well, I can't tell anyone, not even you my dear diary. I really want my wish to come true.
~Christine, eight years old
May 2, 1864
Dear Diary,
Do you think I am strange? I know that you are simply a book a pour my thoughts and soul into, yet you are the only friend I have. I once had a friend, his name was Raoul. Of coarse, you know about him. He was all I used to write about. But so much time has passed since I last saw him, I can no longer consider him a friend. Perhaps a very distant friend... But can you still be friends with someone you haven't spoken to in over four years? Oh, I am rambling again. Heh. I was trying to say... No one truly wants to be my friend. Sure, there is an occasional girl who will flash me a smile, but her smile will not touch her eyes. Is there something wrong with me maybe? Is there a big blinking sign over my head that says 'Beware the new girl!'? After being alone with nobody except father, I feel lonesome. I want a friend. Not just a friend, a TRUE friend.
~Christine, eight years old
November 1, 1866
Journal,
Today is All Saints Day. We spent the whole day at church today. Speaking of churches, I wish to visit the Cathédrale Notre-Dame. I heard it is very beautiful, with large stained glass windows. I have gone to Paris only once. That was when I met Raoul- No, I must forget him.
~Christine, ten years old
June 17, 1867
Journal,
Today is a very special day, my eleventh birthday! Father surprised me this morning with a chocolate cake and a silver locket! In the locket, there is a picture of father and a sketch of a beautiful woman. Father said that the woman was my mother and I look just like her. Mother was a chorus girl at the Opera Populaire, where she met father, who was the lead violinist of the orchestra. Oh Paris! How I long to live in Paris! I have been practicing my French with Father. Hopefully, we will visit France in our exhausting travels. I don't dare complain...
~ Christine, eleven years old .
August 26, 1867
Journal,
We had learned of Raoul's mother's death from a man called Jules while we were in the outskirts of Germany a few weeks ago. We also received a wedding invitation. Father didn't want tell me how he knew Jules and I didn't ask questions.
August 26, 1867
This was no way for my daughter to live. I tried making the best of it by telling her stories and teaching her to play the violin and sing. Her favorite stories are the ones of Little Lotte and her Angel of Music. Today, I ran into an old friend called Jules, he brought joyful news. Of coarse, I felt guilty that I was happy for her death, but the relief overwhelmed the guilt by a long shot. My daughter could now live in one place and have friends. Jules offered us a place to stay in Paris. I believe I will take his offer, just until Christine and I find a more suitable place to live. Perhaps we will return to Sweden? But The Opera Populaire is calling to me. Oh the memories. Perhaps we will stay in Paris. I can easily get a spot in the orchestra. Hopefully, the pay is still good.
On a happy note, my dear friend Jules is finally going to marry! He says his fiancee's name is Antoinette Giry. I find it rather humorous that he plans on taking her last name. Ha! The world is changing so fast.
~Gustave Reuben Daaé
.~❤~.~❤~.~❤~..~❤~.~❤~.~❤~.
Thank you for reading! This is a very short chapter. Now that summer is here, I should be updating a lot more often. *laughs evilly*
~Snowleaper
YOU ARE READING
My Phantom (Phantom of the Opera Phanfic)
FanfictionAfter Erik is saved from a life full of hatred and fear, he haunts the Opera Populair with his pranks. After meeting a Swedish violinist, he is asked to be the Angel of Music of a young girl. After the death of her father, Christine was sent to li...
