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Name: Chase Fowler | Gender: Male | Posts: 12 | Roses: 10
Old 08-06-2012 at 06:39 PM
Wandering Child
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Twisted Every Way: A Genderbent Phanfiction  Post [1]

Heh guys! This is my first Phanfiction. It's already posted on, but I thought I'd post it here. The whole idea is Christine is now Christian, and Raoul is now Regina. And yes, Erik is still Erik. Enjoy!


"Sold! Your number sir? Ah, thank you! Lot 665. A music box in the shape of a barrel organ. Attached, is a monkey wearing Persian robes, playing the cymbals. Quite the interesting find, Ladies and Gentlemen! Found here in the vaults of the theatre. Go ahead and show the crows, Monsieur!"

As the man was struggling to wind wind up the music box, a small group of people gathered around. Many of them wanted the box because they were sure that it would be worth something one day, but one woman in particular, wanted it because it reminded her of someone. Yes, it was years and years ago, but she could remember it as if it was just the day before.

Suddenly, a familiar tune filled the air. Well, to most of the auction goers, it was a foreign song, one they didn't pay much attention to. But for her, it caused her to sit rigid in her wooden wheelchair. The room was suddenly alive, filled with dancers in fabulous masks, gliding across the polished marble floors as if by magic. And then, as the tune died out, so did the memory. The group began to buzz excitedly, but where silenced by the voice of the barker.

"May I commence at fifteen Francs?"

A hand raised near the front.

"Fifteen Thank you! Yes, twenty from you sir, thank you very much. Madame Giry, Twenty-Five?"

She was here as well, thought the woman in the chair. She turned to the aging ballet mistress, and nodded. The woman in the chair signaled to her helper, who raised his hand.

"Thirty! And thirty-five? Selling at thirty Francs then. Thirty once, twice?" A loud bang traveled through the air, as the man at the podium hit it with his gavel.

"Sold, to the Vicomtess de Changy! Thank you, Madame."

The music box was placed in the Vicomtess' hand, and she began to run her long, boney fingers over the newly polished wood.

A collector's piece, indeed. Every detail, exactly as she said. Will you still play, when all the rest of us, are dead?

"Lot 666 then, everyone. A chandelier in pieces. Some of you may recall the strange affair, of the Phantom of the Opera. A mystery, never fully explained. We are told Ladies and Gentlemen, that this is the very chandelier the figures in the famous disaster. Our workshops have repaired it, and wired it for the new electric light."

The man laughed, before continuing on. "Perhaps, we can frighten away the ghost, of so many years ago. With a little, illumination. Gentleman!"

A large group of men pulled off the dusty covering, and began pulling on a rope, which made the vast chandelier rise.

As the chandelier began to rise, a strange thing began to happen to the Vicomtess. She was beginning to remember a time that was much simpler. When she was the patron of the very Opera she sat in now, and when she was commonly knows as Regina. And when she fell in love with one, well, the only male dance the entire Opera Populaire had. Christian Daae.

"To long you've wondered in winter, to far from my fathering gaze...Angel of music you denied me, turning from true beauty!"
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