Disclaimer: No, I __don't__ own any of the Moulin Rouge characters except
for Michael, though if I owned Christian that would be cool. But that's off
the subject. *cough*
"Are you sure you are up to this?" Doctor Morrison asked me as she strapped me into the booth.
"Yes." I nodded breathlessly. "Oh this one thing, I am sure."
"Do you have the vial?" she asked. All she needed was for me to pat my right breast pocket. She smiled one of those smiles. "You know, we're going to miss you here. You were a great person. Never forget that." She said, her red hair shaping her face and her blue eyes sparkling.
"Like Great-great-great-great grandfather, like great-great-great- great grandson." I thought to myself. But what I said was "I know." I looked forward in the booth. "I know." I blinked away the tears that were brimming my eyes and tried to look natural.
"Well, farewell." I said to her. She was the only woman I ever loved, and yet how could I go so suddenly without proper goodbye? It didn't make any sense.
"Yes. Goodbye." She said. She waved a fond farewell to me as she closed the door to the time capsule. The whirring that had droned in my ears so many times before engulfed me. Why could I not just be going on some regular trip in time, like I had before? But no. No, I had to do this. "No second thought," she had said. And I was not going to let her down.
I set the time controls in front of he. The numbers flipped as I pressed switches and buttons until it read the following: 1899, Montmartre, France. Then I flipped the last and final switch, but not before taking a small peep at my love. I was off in time.
My eyes adjusted to the light. After all, after traveling 50x the speed of light to go back 100 years in the past, in which you saw all of the times flash at once, you need to get adjusted to normal light. I looked around at my surroundings. I was in an alley. Oh, and what a quaint little alley it was! Just like I had pictured an alley back in these times. I emerged, dressed, as always in my time travels, in fashion of the time. I marveled at the brown fabric and fingered it. Then I looked up and was bombarded with images. First, there were the wonderful Voices of The Revolution!-bohos, if you will. Then there were the commoners, the wonderful commoners of the village. I wondered many things about them, and marveled them all the same. Then my face curved down as I spotted the rich people. The people like the Duke who had taken my ancestor's love away. I felt like spitting at them, but I regained my strength and managed to not.
Now the search would truly begin. I needed to find my Great-great- great-great grandfather, a young writer by the name of Christian. But how would I recognize him? I wondered. And so I wondered through the village looking this way and that for someone who resembled the picture I had so long looked at in my childhood. After searching the village twice and still not finding him, I began to get discouraged. But I remembered Dr. Morrison's words.
When times get you down, do not give up. Try, try again! You are bound to get it right some time!
Though short and sweet, it gave me the courage I needed to go on. I swept my feet as quickly as they could go through the streets of Montmartre. Yet it was in vain, for I could not find any trace of my Christian. I was about to give up when I heard singing which I knew could only come from him:
La lune trop bleme pose un diademe sur tes cheveux roux
My heart skipped a beat as I looked up slowly. Lo and behold, there was my ancestor sitting on the ledge of his room singing. As far as I could venture, this was about the night after he had supposedly convinced the Duke to be the investor for the play "Spectacular Spectacular." I had hear his story many times over passed down from my family, and also from the book he wrote about it. I just about flew up to his window, but instead I walked up to the building. I raced up the stairs and couldn't waste a second. Then I knocked on his door.
"Who are you?" he asked.
A/N So what do you think? Am I off to a good start? R and R!
"Are you sure you are up to this?" Doctor Morrison asked me as she strapped me into the booth.
"Yes." I nodded breathlessly. "Oh this one thing, I am sure."
"Do you have the vial?" she asked. All she needed was for me to pat my right breast pocket. She smiled one of those smiles. "You know, we're going to miss you here. You were a great person. Never forget that." She said, her red hair shaping her face and her blue eyes sparkling.
"Like Great-great-great-great grandfather, like great-great-great- great grandson." I thought to myself. But what I said was "I know." I looked forward in the booth. "I know." I blinked away the tears that were brimming my eyes and tried to look natural.
"Well, farewell." I said to her. She was the only woman I ever loved, and yet how could I go so suddenly without proper goodbye? It didn't make any sense.
"Yes. Goodbye." She said. She waved a fond farewell to me as she closed the door to the time capsule. The whirring that had droned in my ears so many times before engulfed me. Why could I not just be going on some regular trip in time, like I had before? But no. No, I had to do this. "No second thought," she had said. And I was not going to let her down.
I set the time controls in front of he. The numbers flipped as I pressed switches and buttons until it read the following: 1899, Montmartre, France. Then I flipped the last and final switch, but not before taking a small peep at my love. I was off in time.
My eyes adjusted to the light. After all, after traveling 50x the speed of light to go back 100 years in the past, in which you saw all of the times flash at once, you need to get adjusted to normal light. I looked around at my surroundings. I was in an alley. Oh, and what a quaint little alley it was! Just like I had pictured an alley back in these times. I emerged, dressed, as always in my time travels, in fashion of the time. I marveled at the brown fabric and fingered it. Then I looked up and was bombarded with images. First, there were the wonderful Voices of The Revolution!-bohos, if you will. Then there were the commoners, the wonderful commoners of the village. I wondered many things about them, and marveled them all the same. Then my face curved down as I spotted the rich people. The people like the Duke who had taken my ancestor's love away. I felt like spitting at them, but I regained my strength and managed to not.
Now the search would truly begin. I needed to find my Great-great- great-great grandfather, a young writer by the name of Christian. But how would I recognize him? I wondered. And so I wondered through the village looking this way and that for someone who resembled the picture I had so long looked at in my childhood. After searching the village twice and still not finding him, I began to get discouraged. But I remembered Dr. Morrison's words.
When times get you down, do not give up. Try, try again! You are bound to get it right some time!
Though short and sweet, it gave me the courage I needed to go on. I swept my feet as quickly as they could go through the streets of Montmartre. Yet it was in vain, for I could not find any trace of my Christian. I was about to give up when I heard singing which I knew could only come from him:
La lune trop bleme pose un diademe sur tes cheveux roux
My heart skipped a beat as I looked up slowly. Lo and behold, there was my ancestor sitting on the ledge of his room singing. As far as I could venture, this was about the night after he had supposedly convinced the Duke to be the investor for the play "Spectacular Spectacular." I had hear his story many times over passed down from my family, and also from the book he wrote about it. I just about flew up to his window, but instead I walked up to the building. I raced up the stairs and couldn't waste a second. Then I knocked on his door.
"Who are you?" he asked.
A/N So what do you think? Am I off to a good start? R and R!