There was a boy
A very strange
Enchanted boy
They say he wandered very far
Very far
Over land and sea
A little shy
And sad of eye
But very wise was he
And then one day
One magic day
He passed my way
And while we spoke of many things
Fools and kings
This he said to me
The greatest thing
You'll ever learn
Is just to love
And be loved in return
Paris, 1900
He sat on the floor, bottle of cheap wine in hand, like he did every night. It seemed nights like this had happened for years. He could remember when this room wasn't so lonely. He could remember all the love that once filled this room. He ran a hand through his dark black curls as tears once again started to fall from his hazel eyes.
I miss you so much...
The young man sniffed and glanced up at his typewriter, now dusty from lack of use. A pair of glaz colored eyes against porcelain skin flashed in his memory. He stood as the haunting, beautiful voice that often occupied his dreams came into his mind.
" Tell our story. Promise me..."
The young mad sat on the wooden stool in front of his desk, staring at the keys in the typewriter.
He needed to find the right words. He raked through his brain, trying to find them. He grabbed a blank piece of paper from the stack on his desk and ran it through the typewriter. The words came slowly but surely. Tears clouded his vision, but he didn't mind; he'd promised him, after all.
The Moulin Rouge. A nightclub. A dance hall for those individuals who preferred the company of men over women. Ruled over by William Schuster, it was a kingdom of nighttime pleasures where the rich and powerful came to play with the young and handsome creatures of the underworld. The most handsome and beautiful of all these was the man I loved. Kurt. An escort. He sold his love to men who often were with him unbeknownst to their wives. They called him the Porcelain Doll , and he was the star of the Moulin Rouge.
The man I loved is dead.
I first came to Paris one year ago...
