Seal My Fate•Phantom of the Opera Fanfiction

Chapter 1: A World of Dreams

Hi guys! This is my first long phanfiction, really my first long story at all, so bear with me please.

Edit 7/28/20: After rereading the beginnings of this story, I have come to a conclusion: it sucks. Seriously, cringe level 100. However, I have decided (against my better judgement) to make the conscious decision NOT to edit it, for old times' sake. I'm not saying my writing is perfect now—far from it—but I know enough to know that at least the first half of this story is awful... but, as I've said before, it's the first story I've ever dedicated more than an hour to, so I think I have a valid excuse.

The above photo is more or less what I imagine Emma to look like, though
[minor spoiler]
(that won't really matter after this chapter.)

This is mainly based on the 2004 movie.

Which is not mine.

Neither are the characters or any other version of The Phantom of the Opera.

As with any other story, feel free to comment (and vote if you like it).

Let's get to it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The only thing worse than being helpless against a nightmare is choosing it because the alternative is worse.

I sighed and clicked away. I had been on the road for hours, and my legs desperately needed to move. I loved writing, but anything can get boring when it's the only thing you can do. I decided to proofread later, and celebrate the completion of yet another short story by bothering the girl next to me, who sat at the driver's seat.

Her name was Ava. She wasn't exactly a friend, but she was the closest thing I had. She was the only one who would (sort of) listen when I went on my phangirl rambles. She was in my ballet class, and, although we never saw each other at voice lessons, we had the same teacher. Ava didn't particularly like me, but she was the closest thing I had to family.

That's kind of sad, I realized.

I shrugged it off. As an actress, I'd taught myself true pain. The lovely thing about that was that those circumstances were fictional. When I was done with them, I'd throw them away. My life was nothing compared to theirs. Especially compared to Eri-

NO. Bad. I reprimanded myself, Stop thinking about The Phantom of the Opera.

"Hey, Ava?"

"Hmm?"

"You know how Erik-"

"Emma."

"The Phantom," I corrected, "he needed Christine, but Christine only liked him?"

"Right."

"Can I read you a poem?" I asked, already unfolding the paper.

"Sure."

I cleared my throat and read the little poem.

"He was her angel
Her guardian and teacher
She was his weakness
And he longed to teach her"

"She was his joy
He was her night
And people like darkness
But they need the light"

I smiled and folded it again. It was so sweet.

"So? What do you think?"

"I think it's... strange." Ava replied, "it's nice, I guess, just not very well-written."

"Well," I retorted, "it's a poem, whether you like it or not."

"Emma, be quiet."

I hushed immediately. We may have been arguing, I figured, but if there was a chance that she needed to focus on the road, it would be foolish of me to ignore that need. I looked at the floor and wiggled my toes.

I could act, I could sing, and I could dance. I even spoke French, and the little Italian that music taught me. I'd make the perfect Christine, I thought to myself.

Then it happened. The car jerked to one side, throwing me against the wall. I looked up just in time to see the world spin around me and the windows crash in.

Blood.

Screams.

No sooner had a realized that the scream was my own than I was thrown into the wall, and the world went black. All I could hear was my own scream, which slowly climbed higher in pitch.

The pain vanished, but I was still screaming. I stopped and opened my eyes. I was staring at a bloody scene, but it wasn't a car accident. I was wearing a white dress, but I was much shorter than I had been before. I was no longer on a road, but a street of cobblestone, and I was sobbing, though I couldn't tell why.

I felt a gentle hand touch my shoulder. Turning around, I realized I was looking at a woman who looked very familiar, though I couldn't put a finger on how. She wore an old-fashioned dress, and her hair was up in an elegant bun. Behind her, there was a beautiful little girl. She, too, wore a dress, much like my own, and she had straight hair that was almost white. She smiled at me.

"Bonjour. Je m'appelle Meg."

I smiled and re-focused my gaze on the woman. She looked really familiar. Wait. That was French. The girl had just introduced herself in French. Where was I?

"You look familiar," I muttered.

The woman smiled weakly. "I was a friend of your father's. Follow me."

Not knowing what else to do, I followed her. I was still a bit shaken by everything, but the tears had ceased to flow. The little girl, Meg, took my hand. It fit perfectly in hers.

"How old are you?" She asked, "I'm seven."

"I'm seventeen," I told her.

The woman looked at me with the most peculiar expression. I looked up at her innocently, and she gave a slight chuckle.

"She's your age," she told Meg, "she's seven, too."

Okay, I thought, I guess I'm 7.

We stopped at a small café, and the woman knelt down to explain everything to me.

"You're a dancer, correct?"

"I can dance." I replied. I wasn't really sure of anything at this point, but I figured I could still dance.

"Good. Now, you'll have to earn your living. You'll do that by dancing." She must have noticed the horror in my eyes, because she quickly added, "Don't worry, I'll help you. My daughter, Meg, will be with you along the way, and you'll live with us in the dormitories."

Dormitories?

"If you need anything," she continued, "let me know, all right?" I nodded, and she responded with another gentle smile. "Welcome to the cast, Christine. Call me Madame Giry."

That was how I knew her.

Ohhhhh no.

I knew where I was. I was in my favorite movie.