The Phantom's Shadow (On Hold/Serious Editing In Progress)

The Phantom's Shadow

Okay, everyone, this is my first Phan-fic. I decided to do it on the Phantom of the Opera because I LOVE IT! :) Hope you enjoy it, and would like to hear your thoughts about it... Enjoy!!

OKAY, EVERYONE! BOLD LETTERS IS ELENA FROM THE FUUUTTTUUREEE! I came back on here to edit my first Phan-fic, because every time I look back on it, I realize it has so much potential and the idea was awesome, but it just needed a bit more editing. And since I've gotten better at writing over the past few years, I decided I would try and update the chapters and make them better.

      All around me there is nothing but darkness, and I reach out and try to grasp anything tangible in order to find my barrings and understand where I am, but I can't. I frantically search for anything that can pull me out of this impending nightmare, but again, nothing.

     And then a lulling voice calls for my attention. In notes sweet and low it captivates me and gives me peace to ease my fears of the darkness. The song is not familiar to me, but the soothing melody gives me comfort enough that I am no longer afraid of the dreaded dark. In fact, I'm attracted to it now, in a way.

     Abruptly, my heart skips a beat as I hear an ear-shattering scream.

     Sarra.

     I shoot upright in my bed, clinging to my sheets, body trembling in a mixture between fear and allure. Frantically, my eyes search for my best friend and sister, Sarra. Her absence at the moment terrifies me more than it shoulder.

          "Sarra!" My scream echoes through the room, as my eyes detect the sunrise just behind the windows.

     I find myself wishing for the darkness that had enclosed around me in my dream; yet, I always wake up wondering why I want it in the first place.

     And then I remember.

     It is because of that entrancing voice that I have grown attracted to the dark. That unparalleled voice that has somehow made itself known in my dreams.

          "Shadow?! What's wrong?!" Her hasty footsteps come barreling into our shared room.

     My arms throw themselves around her neck as I find myself overjoyed at her very presence. She's not screaming, she's not harmed, she's not. . .dead.

     Sarra is alive and well, and she is right here with me.

          "I thought you were dead!" I wail the first thought that comes to mind.

          "Why would you think I was dead?" She questions, pulling me back so she can have a better view of me as she speaks.

     Her question is redundant, for she already knows the answer. I've been having these dreams - no, nightmares - frequently. Sarra has always comforted me every time they've occurred, though she believes the dreams are nothing to be afraid of.

     Her vibrant green irises stare intently upon me; those green eyes always manage to calm me slightly when I'm in need of encouragement or solace.

          "M-My n-n-nightmare. . .I-I-I" I don't finish my sentence, and bury my face in her chest to try and hide from the world.

     Considering I'm eighteen, I know I shouldn't be crying like a five-year-old, but all logical sense seems to flow right out of me in these dreams. I've come up with the theory that the reason behind the madness is that my subconscious adores the darkness, and my waking mind fears it.

     Thus, the clash in ideals results in a break in my emotional state.

          "Shh. Shh. Please tell me, dear Shadow, why do you fear that dream? Shouldn't being attracted to the darkness be good? After all, most are afraid of the dark. Why should you be afraid of not being afraid?" She wonders curiously.

          "I don't know. It just doesn't feel right."

     She nods in understanding, her hand rubbing my back a bit more as I finally make an effort to gather my emotions. Sarra gives me ample time to recover, and soon, I feel at ease with the world around me once more.

     Sarra is easy to live with in this low-class, rundown opera house. She always takes the initiative in trying to empathize with others and how they view things so she doesn't have to argue with them as much. She's practically my sister, because we were both abandoned at an early age.

     My father dumped me out in the streets when I was 16, after my mother died. Sarra's parents are both still very much alive, but they've just decided to leave her in Paris to study music while they travel the world on their own. When Sarra found me, she was 17. It's difficult to remember exactly how we found each other, considering I don't particularly care about remembering the time I spent in the streets, but Sarra says that she was sweeping the front steps of the opera house when she saw me.

     Pretty soon after she had found me, we both found that we each had similar aspirations, and that we were meant to be sisters. We both have dreams of one day making it up into the Opera Populaire. If we can't get a lead role, we'd still love to join the popular opera house as a chorus girl.

     In fact, my cousin, Christine Daae is a chorus girl herself in the Opera Populaire. When I first told Sarra that news, she had squealed and ranted for nearly ten minutes about how hurt she was that someone as sweet-looking as Christine would have left me in the streets without taking me in like family should. However, I reminded her that it was likely since my father was a drunk and cut off from his siblings, there wasn't a big chance that anyone in the family knew I existed.

     It had cooled her down enough to forgive Christine, but she was still upset that my family didn't know about my existence.

          "Girls! What are you still doing here?! You should be rehearsing!" Our teacher, Madame Deferee, interrupts my thoughts as she barges into the room.

          "Yes, Madame." Sarra responds coolly, barely even turning her head. "Come on, dancing and singing always cheer you up a bit."

     Pulling me into the dressing room, Sarra and I put on our outfits and begin stretching. We do a bit of dancing and sing the chorus of a few songs, which I greatly enjoy. Sarra, however, insists that I should be somewhere higher in the musical world. She claims I've a voice that even an angel would envy.

     If we take my opinion into account, that's up for debate.

          "Oh! And what brings you here, Miss Daae?" Madame Deferee suddenly queries, walking back to the entrance of the opera.

     Daae? Could it be, my cousin, Christine Daae? Out of my peripheral vision, I catch a knowing look on Sarra's face, and I infer that she has something to do with this.

     "Surprise." She says, as she steps over to me.