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Disclaimer: I don't own anything or any of the characters or ideas that have to do with Moulin Rouge. Okie-dokie?
The Days To Follow
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The sun seeped in through the window facing the familiar red windmill days after Spectacular Spectacular had debuted, with Christian still in the same white shirt and black vest from the dreadful night of Satine's death. Empty bottles of Absinthe covered the floor, and one in his hand. Pages upon pages of the script scattered about.
She's dead, gone forever he thought to himself, one solitary tear running down his cheek. Crying had now become an involuntary action, like breathing. Red from the endless act, his face was hanging down in sorrow. How am I going to live on, my life was nothing before she came. She was everything now, I am nothing again. She was my inspiration for everything. I can't go on without her sun-shiny face illuminating my eyes.
He slowly walked to the door of his apartment, went to the stairs, and made his way up to Toulouse's studio. Not expecting or hoping to find anyone there, he trudged around the empty room alone with his thoughts for a few moments. Then, he went out on the balcony. With a glass of the beverage in his hand, he raised it up and said, "My last gulp of sweet Absinthe Here's to truth, freedom, beauty, and above all things, love." He stepped up on the railing, and with one last swallow, he fell to the garden of the Moulin Rouge
Soaring to the ground, he thought of her song. He was flying away from his problems, just as Satine had once wanted to do before. The few seconds of flying had abruptly stopped, as pain pierced Christian's body. He wanted to scream out, but all he could do was close his eyes
Harold Zidler, owner of the wondrous night club of Montmartre, was filled with anguish. Satine was like a daughter to him, But another thing, without her, there was no Moulin Rouge, no Sparkling Diamond. There was no Spectacular Spectacular.
He decided to go for a walk, to debate with himself whether or not he should close the prestigious gentleman's escape from the real world. He wandered out into the garden, past the elephant, Satine's room. And out by the windmill. Oh, the lights, the exciting electricity he had showed off. And there down on the ground about ten feet ahead, there was a mass of white, black, and red. What in the world is that? Zidler moved closer to investigate.
Oh my goodness, it's Christian
Zidler ran over to him, only to find that he was unconscious, and his left arm was twisted in a very odd manor. His left ankle was swelling up, and several scrapes and bruises were arising on his face. Blood was trickling out of his mouth, and a few teeth were lying on the ground beside his deranged face.
She should be mine. This is not the way it was supposed to end. The Duke had been wandering around Paris mumbling pointless phrases such as these for the last two days. The night of the realization that the Maharaja indeed didn't win the courtesan's love, he wandered out of the garden, and instead of going to the Gothic Tower where he was staying. The jealous-filled man walked aimlessly about the city, not stopping to sleep or eat.
Oblivious to the fact that Satine was dead, he decided that he was going to back and take back what was rightfully his. And to destroy the Moulin Rouge and Christian. He started making his way back to Montmartre.
Oh what a wondrous place this is Christian thought to himself. He was on a beautiful farm in the countryside. In the distance he could see the sunset framing the Eiffel tower. There was a lovely farmhouse a few yards away. He was standing in a picturesque field of daisies and daffodils. There was a cute little fence surrounding a pasture, full of grazing sheep, and off under the trees were two horses, lapping water from a meandering stream that glistened and reflected beautiful shades of pink, purple, and blue. It was a marvelous view.
Just then a woman in a gray dress and white apron stepped out of the door that faced the wondrous scene. "Satine! Satine! Come in, its about time for supper! You will more than likely need to wash up so GET IN HERE!"
Oh Satine! He turned in the direction of running footsteps brustling in the sweet smelling grass. A little girl with pale skin and long, wavy, deep red hair came up over the hill and ran right past the bewildered man, as if she hadn't even seen him. His eyes followed the young girl into the house. The sun was now gone, the pasture now dark, except for the full moon and sparkling stars beaming down.
Oh my, my eyelids are so heavy. I can't keep them open As well as his eyelids feeling weighted down, there was a terrible burning sensation coming from inside his head, all the way out as if his eyes were dissolving from within. He closed his eyes and all was dark. He fell into a deep sleep
When Zidler got up to Toulous's apartment, no one was there. Presently a cool draft of air cam and brushed against his aged skin. He looked in the direction of its origin to find that the balcony window was open, one small glass and a bottle of Absinthe just by the railing, shattered. He heard a painstaking groan from down below. Zidler looked over the edge and realized it was Christian, awakening from his unconsciousness.
He jumped
Harold stood for a moment in a state of shock. He shook his head and came out to his senses, and headed for the door to go back down to Christian. Just then, there was another scream from Christian, only this time his voice was full of terror.
"No! No!" he hollered.
"Christian Now you are really going to find out the REAL ending." That voice sounds so familiar thought Zidler. He gasped as he realized who's it was. It's the
The sound of a gunshot rang vividly through the silent air of Montmartre.
What will happen to poor Christian? Will the Duke prevail in his evil plot of revenge brought upon by pure jealousy? You'll just have to wait to read the next chapter.
Please review this! I love and ~need~ feedback to make my writing better and more enjoyable for you, the reader! Thanks!