Earth shattering cries tore through the hearts of the onlooking bohemians as they watched their beloved
friend lose all he had ever loved. They watched the life flee from Christian as Satine's eyes dimmed and
her body went limp in his arms. He rocked back and forth, sobs wracking the shoulders of a man who
had truely lost it all. He had lost his love, lost his muse, and lost a part of his soul. Behind turbulent
aqua-blue eyes danced a multitude of emotions. Pain as if he felt Satine's final labored breath and the
suffocating pressure she must've surely felt as she gasped for air. Sorrow, for he knew she was gone,
never to return. He would never again hear her sweet, bird like voice. Guilt, feeling that he was certainly
the reason that she had let so much stress come upon her.
"If I had never come, she'd still be alive", he thought irrationally.
Jealousy of death, that he could no longer know the warmth that she brought him. Hatred at the Duke
for stealing the happiness from his last precious moments with her. For driving Satine to such unhappiness.
"The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and let go.", his mind told the poet bitterly.
Today was a day when dreaming ended for all involved with the Moulin Rouge. As the audience
cheered on the otherside of the curtain, oblivious to the mourning that happened just a few meters away,
snow began to fall whistfully to the ground. The bohemian revolution was over.
(A/N: Well??? What did you think? It's a bit of a partner peice to "My Gift Is My Song", or is it Your gift?
I don't even remember the title of my own story. Anyway, please read and review. Don't be too
brutal, but please do be honest.)
friend lose all he had ever loved. They watched the life flee from Christian as Satine's eyes dimmed and
her body went limp in his arms. He rocked back and forth, sobs wracking the shoulders of a man who
had truely lost it all. He had lost his love, lost his muse, and lost a part of his soul. Behind turbulent
aqua-blue eyes danced a multitude of emotions. Pain as if he felt Satine's final labored breath and the
suffocating pressure she must've surely felt as she gasped for air. Sorrow, for he knew she was gone,
never to return. He would never again hear her sweet, bird like voice. Guilt, feeling that he was certainly
the reason that she had let so much stress come upon her.
"If I had never come, she'd still be alive", he thought irrationally.
Jealousy of death, that he could no longer know the warmth that she brought him. Hatred at the Duke
for stealing the happiness from his last precious moments with her. For driving Satine to such unhappiness.
"The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and let go.", his mind told the poet bitterly.
Today was a day when dreaming ended for all involved with the Moulin Rouge. As the audience
cheered on the otherside of the curtain, oblivious to the mourning that happened just a few meters away,
snow began to fall whistfully to the ground. The bohemian revolution was over.
(A/N: Well??? What did you think? It's a bit of a partner peice to "My Gift Is My Song", or is it Your gift?
I don't even remember the title of my own story. Anyway, please read and review. Don't be too
brutal, but please do be honest.)