It was a chilly autumn morning on the streets of Paris. Frost clung to the ground while the sun peered through the tall archaic structures within the cityscape. Birds could be heard singing their wake-up call, scavenging the ground for insects and tossed seed. Michael took a deep breath, the crisp air filled his lungs and when he exhaled, fog escaped his lips like wildfire. He stood near the remains of an opera house, once tall and mighty, now existing only as a rubble accent to the surrounding architecture. Bits of the walls still stood, but the rest was nonexistent.
He took another breath and he could smell the fire that had raged on that night 50 years ago. Screams were but an echo in his dreams and the putrid smell of burning flesh seared his nostrils as if it were still present. He was 76 now, aged and alone. His bushy brows furrowed together at the memories and he closed his eyes. Daring to be taken back to that time. That day. That moment.
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Thank you for taking the time to read this short prologue! Did I draw you in yet? ;)
I work full time but I hope to update once a week if not every other week! In the meantime, enjoy your day and have lots of fun!
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"Phantom" A Phantom Of The Opera AU
FanfictionPhantom of the opera is not my story, this version is a fan-made au. Ever since Leon had been taken in by the theatre, he always had this little voice in his head directing him and guiding him. Convinced it was the voice of his father, a famous musi...
