Disclaimer: As much as my heart wishes, I sadly, do not own them. I don't even own
the song! *cries* Oh well as long as I have my Faith (Ewan) Cheetah/panther, I'm
semi..........note the semi.......satisfied.
A/N: HELLO, this would be !!!Isabella_Spinder of Souls!!!!! on her other name for baaaaad ficcies. :-p. This chapter is dedicated to Brown-Eyes, for while I was helping her, she inspired me to write this O.o oh my.....well here's nothing. And if you care to read my other terrible ficcie on this name, go ahead, but I warn you!
~*~*~*~
Christian walked sown the bustling streets of Paris, luggage in hand. To everyone but him, the streets were alive and thriving with laughter, songs, life. But, to Christian Raugh, they echoed back the sorrow that he felt.
Many would not notice the poor and dying people in midst of this grandeur. They looked past the poor baker and the hobbling mother, they refused to belive. Idealists with dreams in their heads refused to admit that there was suffering in this "perfect city of lovers". But there was. Oh how there was.
Christian had told their story, as he promised. Now, despite what his eyes saw, he tried to leave like the people that were blind. He tried to leave the same, hopefully young man that he came as. He tried to move on like his beautiful Diamond had told him to. But, as the sun set below the horizon, and more night wanderers, beggars came out, he knew it was impossible.
In their eyes, the key to their souls, they seemed to be dancing, enjoying the twilight. How could they? How could they move on when they're children were hungry and crying, when they had lost everything. How could they smile when the world frowned down on them? When it ripped what little they had away from their finger tips, how could they survive?
It was almost like they were singing out to them, telling him to go, get out while he had a chance. They wanted him to leave before the memory infected him. Memory. I belive you were expecting me? You, you will be mean. "No I won't." he mumbled. Come back to me, and forgive everything!
Christian shook his head once more. Song filled his mind. Everything else was silent.
"Midnight,
Not a sound from the pavement."
He remembered the Italian opera the moon had sung that night the penniless poet had met his courtesan.
"Has the moon lost his (her) memory?
He (she) is smiling alone,
In the lamp lights,
The withered leave collect at my feet,
And the wind, begins to moan."
Everything disappeared from sight.
"Memory,
All alone in the moonlight,
I can smile at the old days,
life was beautiful than,
I remember, a time I knew
what happiness was,
Let the memory,
Live again."
The lights of Paris flickered to his voice. The light, revealing each worn face.
"Every street lamp
seems to beat,
a fatalistic warning
Some one mutters and the
street lamp gutters,
and soon it will be morning!
daylight....I must wait,
for the sunrise,
I must think of a new life,
And I mustn't give in,
When the dawn comes,
Tonight will be a memory too,
And a new day will begin."
Those ragged and torn people ginned at them, telling HIM their stories. What did he see?
"Burnt out ends of smokey days,
the stale cold smell of morning,
The street lamp dies,
another night is over,
another day is dawning!"
Christian, with all his might, called out to the sun's rays. He beaconed them, begged.
"TOUCH ME!
IT'S SO EASY TO LEAVE ME,
ALL ALONE WITH THE MEMORY
OF MY DAYS IN THE SUN!"
He leaned against the pole, frustrated, tears starting to run down his eyes.
"If you....touch me....
you'll understand....
....what...happiness...is."
He closed his eyes, his tears drying. He smiled.
"Look...a new day....has...begun!!!"
As the train's whistle blew, Christian could have sworn, he heard an echo in the wind. This way, I'll always be with you. As if by magic, the same bird of Satine's Christian had realized not hours ago, came flying down, perching on his shoulder.
"Hello Diamond." he cooed to it, stepping into his living cart.
A/N: HELLO, this would be !!!Isabella_Spinder of Souls!!!!! on her other name for baaaaad ficcies. :-p. This chapter is dedicated to Brown-Eyes, for while I was helping her, she inspired me to write this O.o oh my.....well here's nothing. And if you care to read my other terrible ficcie on this name, go ahead, but I warn you!
~*~*~*~
Christian walked sown the bustling streets of Paris, luggage in hand. To everyone but him, the streets were alive and thriving with laughter, songs, life. But, to Christian Raugh, they echoed back the sorrow that he felt.
Many would not notice the poor and dying people in midst of this grandeur. They looked past the poor baker and the hobbling mother, they refused to belive. Idealists with dreams in their heads refused to admit that there was suffering in this "perfect city of lovers". But there was. Oh how there was.
Christian had told their story, as he promised. Now, despite what his eyes saw, he tried to leave like the people that were blind. He tried to leave the same, hopefully young man that he came as. He tried to move on like his beautiful Diamond had told him to. But, as the sun set below the horizon, and more night wanderers, beggars came out, he knew it was impossible.
In their eyes, the key to their souls, they seemed to be dancing, enjoying the twilight. How could they? How could they move on when they're children were hungry and crying, when they had lost everything. How could they smile when the world frowned down on them? When it ripped what little they had away from their finger tips, how could they survive?
It was almost like they were singing out to them, telling him to go, get out while he had a chance. They wanted him to leave before the memory infected him. Memory. I belive you were expecting me? You, you will be mean. "No I won't." he mumbled. Come back to me, and forgive everything!
Christian shook his head once more. Song filled his mind. Everything else was silent.
"Midnight,
Not a sound from the pavement."
He remembered the Italian opera the moon had sung that night the penniless poet had met his courtesan.
"Has the moon lost his (her) memory?
He (she) is smiling alone,
In the lamp lights,
The withered leave collect at my feet,
And the wind, begins to moan."
Everything disappeared from sight.
"Memory,
All alone in the moonlight,
I can smile at the old days,
life was beautiful than,
I remember, a time I knew
what happiness was,
Let the memory,
Live again."
The lights of Paris flickered to his voice. The light, revealing each worn face.
"Every street lamp
seems to beat,
a fatalistic warning
Some one mutters and the
street lamp gutters,
and soon it will be morning!
daylight....I must wait,
for the sunrise,
I must think of a new life,
And I mustn't give in,
When the dawn comes,
Tonight will be a memory too,
And a new day will begin."
Those ragged and torn people ginned at them, telling HIM their stories. What did he see?
"Burnt out ends of smokey days,
the stale cold smell of morning,
The street lamp dies,
another night is over,
another day is dawning!"
Christian, with all his might, called out to the sun's rays. He beaconed them, begged.
"TOUCH ME!
IT'S SO EASY TO LEAVE ME,
ALL ALONE WITH THE MEMORY
OF MY DAYS IN THE SUN!"
He leaned against the pole, frustrated, tears starting to run down his eyes.
"If you....touch me....
you'll understand....
....what...happiness...is."
He closed his eyes, his tears drying. He smiled.
"Look...a new day....has...begun!!!"
As the train's whistle blew, Christian could have sworn, he heard an echo in the wind. This way, I'll always be with you. As if by magic, the same bird of Satine's Christian had realized not hours ago, came flying down, perching on his shoulder.
"Hello Diamond." he cooed to it, stepping into his living cart.