*please note: all characters you recognize are the creative genius of Baz Luhrmann and Craig Pearce. anyone you don't recognize is by me. reviews are welcome, and very much wanted, but please be kind--I know I'm not writing 'typical Christian' but there is a reason, and it becomes evident further on.*
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She stepped off the train in Paris. She carried only one suitcase, filled to overflowing with clothes & a lifetime of memories, and a handbag. Her dreams, she kept inside her head.
Her name was Alyse, and she was 20 years old. The world teemed around her, but she just stood, soaking it all in. A pleased smile lit her face. This was what she'd been dreaming about for years. She was in Paris on a mission. To prove that she didn't need her parents--terribly modern of her in 1906. To prove she could make it in the world--dancing, singing, acting. She could do it all, and desperately wanted the chance to try. She was in Paris, specifically, because of one place--the Moulin Rouge.
Oh, she'd heard the stories. The whores, the can-can, the men, the drinking. Only to herself could she admit that it was fascinating. Not that the club was like that anymore--it had all changed back in 1899, when Alyse was only 13.
She knew this because she'd read his book.
Alyse didn't know his name. It had been published under the name 'Anonymous', but the man in the book was called Christian. It had always been a mystery as to whether the writer was this wonderful Christian, but in her mind, she knew he was. Only someone who had lived the joy and pain depicted in the book could fully translate it into words. He'd been a penniless poet, who'd come to Paris--perhaps he'd stood on this very spot, on this very platform!--and Montmartre, in search of truth, beauty, freedom, and love. All ideals Alyse had secretly held dear since she had bought the book on the sly at age 15. How could she let her family, her friends, know that this book had altered the course of her life? She'd led a terribly sheltered life up until that book--the world it had exposed her to fascinated and drew her. How could she explain that it was why she was here, right now, in Paris? Everyone at home would think her even more mad than they already did. Certainly, her parents were waiting anxiously for word from her that she had failed at her big adventure--'you'll only end up wasting your life away, dancing in whorehouses and catering to old men!' they had told her. So sure of her failure they were, they had sent her on with enough money to last her two months. Because, she told herself wryly, they expected her back in two weeks, with a sheepish grin on her face as she accepted 'darling, I told you so' and was pushed back under, into their world of stifling propriety.
She stiffened her spine as people brushed by her. Well, there was no way she was going to fail. And if, God forbid, she did, she'd never let them know. Now that she was free, she was never going back under their thumbs. She would make it in Paris, and if not, there were other cities, other places--a whole world of opportunity!
Alyse slipped her fingers into her handbag and felt the comforting security of her book. Old, dog eared, with worn pages, she'd read it over and over again. She felt like she imagined this Christian had upon first seeing Paris. Overwhelmed, excited, searching for a bright future. It always put a hitch in her throat to think how his time had turned out. The love of his life, ripped from him, just as they'd been able to truly declare their love. She hoped her time in Paris was better. She knew it would be. She was determined to make it, to see her name in lights, to be the name on the tip of everyone's tongue.
As she stepped off the platform, out of the train station and into the city streets, she wondered if he was still here. Somewhere in Paris, nursing a broken heart? Writing poems and love stories? Perhaps he was still at the Moulin Rouge! No, no, she thought, scolding herself. Why would he stay at the scene of his heartbreak?
Her stomach rumbled, putting an end to her musings. Food, she thought, and set out to find a café.
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She stepped off the train in Paris. She carried only one suitcase, filled to overflowing with clothes & a lifetime of memories, and a handbag. Her dreams, she kept inside her head.
Her name was Alyse, and she was 20 years old. The world teemed around her, but she just stood, soaking it all in. A pleased smile lit her face. This was what she'd been dreaming about for years. She was in Paris on a mission. To prove that she didn't need her parents--terribly modern of her in 1906. To prove she could make it in the world--dancing, singing, acting. She could do it all, and desperately wanted the chance to try. She was in Paris, specifically, because of one place--the Moulin Rouge.
Oh, she'd heard the stories. The whores, the can-can, the men, the drinking. Only to herself could she admit that it was fascinating. Not that the club was like that anymore--it had all changed back in 1899, when Alyse was only 13.
She knew this because she'd read his book.
Alyse didn't know his name. It had been published under the name 'Anonymous', but the man in the book was called Christian. It had always been a mystery as to whether the writer was this wonderful Christian, but in her mind, she knew he was. Only someone who had lived the joy and pain depicted in the book could fully translate it into words. He'd been a penniless poet, who'd come to Paris--perhaps he'd stood on this very spot, on this very platform!--and Montmartre, in search of truth, beauty, freedom, and love. All ideals Alyse had secretly held dear since she had bought the book on the sly at age 15. How could she let her family, her friends, know that this book had altered the course of her life? She'd led a terribly sheltered life up until that book--the world it had exposed her to fascinated and drew her. How could she explain that it was why she was here, right now, in Paris? Everyone at home would think her even more mad than they already did. Certainly, her parents were waiting anxiously for word from her that she had failed at her big adventure--'you'll only end up wasting your life away, dancing in whorehouses and catering to old men!' they had told her. So sure of her failure they were, they had sent her on with enough money to last her two months. Because, she told herself wryly, they expected her back in two weeks, with a sheepish grin on her face as she accepted 'darling, I told you so' and was pushed back under, into their world of stifling propriety.
She stiffened her spine as people brushed by her. Well, there was no way she was going to fail. And if, God forbid, she did, she'd never let them know. Now that she was free, she was never going back under their thumbs. She would make it in Paris, and if not, there were other cities, other places--a whole world of opportunity!
Alyse slipped her fingers into her handbag and felt the comforting security of her book. Old, dog eared, with worn pages, she'd read it over and over again. She felt like she imagined this Christian had upon first seeing Paris. Overwhelmed, excited, searching for a bright future. It always put a hitch in her throat to think how his time had turned out. The love of his life, ripped from him, just as they'd been able to truly declare their love. She hoped her time in Paris was better. She knew it would be. She was determined to make it, to see her name in lights, to be the name on the tip of everyone's tongue.
As she stepped off the platform, out of the train station and into the city streets, she wondered if he was still here. Somewhere in Paris, nursing a broken heart? Writing poems and love stories? Perhaps he was still at the Moulin Rouge! No, no, she thought, scolding herself. Why would he stay at the scene of his heartbreak?
Her stomach rumbled, putting an end to her musings. Food, she thought, and set out to find a café.