The Moulin Peache
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A/N After seeing the motion picture, Moulin Rouge, Double D has a very odd dream, in which his friends of the Cul-De-Sac are all the characters in the movie…oddly enough, it answers some brewing questions that have been boiling inside him since puberty… NOTE: I'm using my favorite classic style of Ed/Double D pairing. That means there is Yaoi involved! Don't like it? Kindly X-out. Thanks :] I wrote this along side to the screen play for Moulin Rouge, so it's pretty similar, with me taking out some small parts in my own tasteful artistic liscence that would otherwise be irrelevant to my story ENJOI XD
DISCLAIMER: Hi. I own nothing EE&E and/or Moulin Rouge. Though that would be a kick in the glass.
ONE MORE THING (I swear!!)
If you never saw the original Moulin Rouge, or are a bit rusty with the characters, I'm going to give you the cast list transitioned to fit the awesome kids of Peach Creek. If you want the what I have planned out to be a surprise, or, you don't really give a hoot, you can skip this part.
Christian (the protagonist, sensitive writer)- Double D
Satine (Christians love interest & star of Moulin rouge)- Ed
The Duke (Big mean jerk that tried to ruin everything)- Rolf XD
Narcoleptic Argentinan (falls through Christians roof)- Jimmy
Toulouse (Befriends Christian his first day)-Jonny
Harold (the owner of Moulin Rouge)-Eddy
Satie (the song-writer for performances)-Sarah
Audrey (the lyricist for perfomances)-Kevin
The Green Fairy (hallucination after they drink absynthe)-Nazz
Diamond Dogs (courtesans in the show other than Satine)- Kanker sisters
Chapter 1- prologue
He had arrived in Peach Creek. It had been over a year, since he had been there, where in just a few short months his life took form and shaped into several dimensions, from being muck and boneless sludge he sworn it was for twenty years of his life. It sparked and seared, and had wound so tightly, like a web of silver string, intricately holding tumultuous emotions of confusion, desperation, passion, jealousy, anger, grief. Passion.
His were the only shoes that walked down the cracked sidewalk downtown. As he stopped in front of a boarded up, broken down building, the flash backs that electrified his mind were anything but the lifeless display that loomed over him now. The Moulin Peache Cabaret. Sighing heavily, he blocked the images that were causing turbulence in his mind. He strode across the street, hardly conscious of his location, but at the same time, completely aware of where he was. Only, he was in another time, one that took place more than a year ago, where at the same time the streets of downtown would be bustling with action. Laughter with friends. Fingers interlaced and aura's mingling among lovers. Yes, how ironic that that feeling had deserted downtown, long gone with the Moulin Peache.
He stepped into a nearly empty café, and pulled out his slim white laptop, opening it his fingers fluttered to the keyboard. He was at a table facing away from the run down building, but, his eyes were tired as it was late in the evening, and his focus shifted to gaze at the reflection on his screen. He saw behind him, the desserted Moulin Peache. And then he found himself staring at his own exhausted face, his eyes solemn, distant. He wrote:
'The greatest thing you'll ever learn…is just to love, and be loved in return.'
His fingers were flying across the keys now, though he wasn't paying attention to what he was typing. He gazed only at the reflection, though this time the abandoned building was as he remembered it the day he left so many months ago. His memory faded in rewind…
The Moulin Peache. Can-can dancers, clowns music swirling through the smoky air, they looked beautiful and ghoulish. A short, stocky man with a thinning head of hair pokes his head through the red velvet curtains, of the theatre of the Moulin Peache. The legendary grounds of performance, a kingdom of night-time pleasures. Where the wealthy and greedy lurk through the monstrous oak doors to linger in the filling presence of the cabaret's lovely pets. Long-legged, siren-esque pets with come-hither lips and dark-rimmed liquidy eyes.
All dictated by the owner, Eddy Zidler, who used these magnificent pets to lure those who were powerful…and willing to thumb over valuable silver.
'The one I loved is dead now. And though I did grow up in Peach Creek, I left it early on to pursue my own dreams. I was granted admission to Berkeley School of Medicine, and it was my entire family's intention for me to go. I had denied it, wanting to tread after my own aspirations. I wanted to write. I could have easily studied medicine, this I know. Saved a couple lives, watch countless more die on my surgery table as I'd hold their lifeless, bloody lump heart in my hands. Make hundreds and thousands of dollars a year, drive an expensive vehical, every day to my priceless villa, filled with materialistic riches and a large-breasted wife who only adored me for what I possessions I could provide her. I had wanted something else. Besides, I have always had a weak stomach, and blood had always made me queezy. Despite what my controlling parents say, I don't believe it could have ever worked. I planned on never coming back.
But I did. The Moulin Peache had just been built, I had never seen anything like it. This village of sin, as my father had told me, lay on the outskirts of Peach Creek. Life was quick here. It had musicians, painters, writers.
I rented a small, but well lit apartment, right across the street overlooking the Moulin Peache.
I had come from a family of wealth, only to desert it to live my own penniless existence. I had come back to my roots, to write about truth, beauty, freedom, and that which I believed in above all things…love.
There was just one problem. I had never been in love.
Luckily, right at that moment an unconscious fair-haired young man fell through my roof. And he was quickly joined by a small bald man holding a chunk of wood dressed as a nun.
"Uhm Hi there?" he said, looking exasperated and wide eyed at the boy on the floor. "Er…my name is Jonny Maury Raymond Lautrec-Belafonte."
I blinked at him "What?"
Hardly missing a beat, he went on.
"I'm terribly sorry about all this! Plank and myself…and this young fella' Jimmy…we were just upstairs rehearsing for a show."
I stared at the chunk of wood in his arms, and noticed that it had a painted face. I looked from it, to the unconscious boy on the floor, to the hole in the ceiling, and back to the one who had just spoken. I blinked again.
"What??"
The Show they had been rehearsing for…It was very modern for its time, called "Awesome Awesomeness" but unfortunately, the fair-haired boy suffered severe social anxiety, which would trigger his asthma, and would succumb to blackouts.
"He's be just peachy one second, and then, BAM! Hyperventilating and an overload of oxygen to his brain, and randomly passes out," he explained.
Then, from the hole in the ceiling, a girl with fiery red curls and a wide mouth appeared, along with a rather lanky looking boy wearing a baseball hat. I found out later their names were Sarah and Kevin.
"Ohmigosh…JIMMY!! How is he?!" Squealed the girl
"Great. Just great. Now the malnourished asthmatic kid is now unconscious, and our stupid scenario will not be finished in time to present to the stupid financial dude tomorrow. Awesome!" The lanky boy scoffed.
"No, no, it's alright, we'll just have to find someone to read the part. No big deal," Jonny reasoned peaceably.
The girl rolled her eyes.
"Oh, really? Well where the crap are we going to find someone to read the role of the young and sensitive poet slash goat tomato farmer??"
Jonny held up Plank and grinned.
"No. Plank already has two parts. As great of an actor he is, theres no way he can memorize all those lines on top of his own. Forget it-" the girl's eyes wandered over to me, and icy chills ricocheted down my spine as she looked me up and down, her lips curling to form a terrifying grin. "The poet…he's young..sensitive…very…handsome…"
Everyone turned to look at me, and before I knew it, I was upstairs, standing in for the unconscious fair-haired boy. However, there seemed to be some artistic differences over Kevin's lyrics to Sarah's songs.
"It's fucking crap, Kevin. Just stop singing."
"Mental block, Sarah?! Can you come up with anything better!?"
"It's not my job, doofus, I just write the music!"
"And I write kickass lyrics, so let it go, okay?"
"Yeah, well. It stinks," she rolled her eyes, and the banter continued. Suddenly, the unconscious Jimmy sits up.
"The hills are rolling like tires on pavement!" Kevin burst into song. Everyone looks at Jimmy with their eyes wide, and he falls back on the bed, unconscious again.
"Good Job, Kevin. You may have just killed poor Jimmy this time," Sarah shrieked and ran to his bedside, checking his pulse just in case.
"No. no, no, no," Kevin said, ingoring Sarah in his own inner conflict with his music lyrics. "The hills…the hills…no…the hills…"
"The hills are puffy and sweet as ice-cream?" Sarah offered.
"The hills…" Kevin continued, struggling in deep though.
Casually, words popped along in my mind. I tried to voice it to them, but their incessant arguing made me almost inaudible. In sudden impulse of desperation, I throw back my head and sing
"The hills are alive with the sound of music!"
Kevin and Sarah stop their arguing, and stare at him in silence. Then as if right on que, Jimmy leaps up from into consciousness
"The hills are alive with the sound of music?! What an absolutely charming sonnet! I love it!"
Everyone in the room goes silent.
"It's good…it fits in perfectly with my music…keep going!"
I struggled to scan my mind for some more impromptu lyrics.
"…With songs they have sung for a thousand…years?" I uttered.
Everyone gasps.
"How decadent! It's sublime! Kevin, you and…you and…er, whats your name again, writer?" Jonny said, his eyes glancing at me.
"Double D."
"Yes! You and Double D should write the entire show together, it will be spectacular!"
Kevin's feelings did not come close to matching Jonny's, or anyone's in the room for that matter. I saw his jaw clench and his eyes narrow.
"I don't work with dorks. I'd tell you that I work alone, but I can see who's the favorite already. I'll be across town. Don't write to me. See ya," he called, and left the room, slamming the door behind him. The room was silent, and then Sarah looked at me, and tackled me in a bone-crushing hug.
"Here's to your first job in Peach Creek!"
Everyone cheered, and I tried to peel the tiny girl off me, but her latch was as good as steel. I looked around me painfully, but smiled. My first real job as a writer.
A/N-Reviews are nice. Dare ya.