At the Opera House

Chapter 1: Wedding Gown

Paris, France, 2034, December 25

The dust filled her lungs as she struggled to pull in air. Screams echoed through the air as she, crawled through the wreckage. Trying her best to stay low. There was smoke too, but it was above her. Lower down, there was enough air to breath.

"Papa." She croaked, pushing aside several bricks, one fell apart in her hand, spewing more dust to her face. She coughed and waved it away before containing to crawl. Her knees scrapped over the concrete and wood.

Her hands were bleeding, every part of her was bruised and scratched. The bleeding hand tugged her fur jacket up her shoulder. It was cold, almost frighteningly so. Her dress, smooth satin, didn't keep it out very well.

"Father!"

She couldn't find him. Steadily, she searched. The longer  she searched, the harder it was to breath. Her throat seized up and she had to stop for a fit of coughing.

Her hand searched along her silk dress, in her pocket she pulled out her phone, it's glow lit up the way before her as she crawled.

She crawled until she could not see her skin as it was so coated in blood and dust. She crawled until her knees showed exposed flesh.

Finally she came upon an opening, she crawled through it and found a little alcove. Above her head through the steel girders and the wooden splinters she saw bits and pieces of the sky. It was grey, snow was finding it's way down through the steel girders.

Like a child, she stuck out her tongue, one snowflake fell on it. It tasted of ash.

She sighed, and sat down again, her hand scrolling through her phone. Her nails, once so perfectly manicured was now chipped and cracked.

No connection, her phone announced. She couldn't call anyone.

She laughed, great loud laughs that shook her whole body. It ended with a fit of coughing. The day had started so well, it had been supposed to be happy. Now nothing seemed right anymore and she couldn't find her father anywhere.

How long would it take for them to dig her out? She wondered. Could she last that long? It was an enormous building.

Above her head, she heard a creak, she looked up, there above her head a large piece of concrete was tipping over.

Right over her.

All she could seem to do was scream.

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1881 November 25, Paris, France

"Christine, I must thank you!" Emily cooed as she ran over the white cotton with her hand. Next to it there was a small amount of lace. There was a generous amount, enough to create a beautiful gown. Which was precisely what Christine intended to do.

"Yes dear," Christine gently placed her hands on the girls shoulder and began directing her to the stool. "Now please, it's time to get your measurements. We only have two weeks until the wedding. And we need to start as soon as possible."

Quickly, stepping onto the chair, Emily grinned ecstatically while Christine began helping her out of her everyday dress.

"Now I am not very good at sewing." Christine reminded her, while pulling out a measuring strip. "But I'll do my best."