Before the Moulin Rouge

by phantastic23

A short story of what happened before Christian came to the Moulin Rouge. He turns 18 and wants to move to Paris and become a writer, but his father won't have it. Tells how Christian learned of the MR, and everything he did in order to go. R&R! Enjoy

1. Happy Birthday

London

April 1898

"Happy Birthday!" Christian's mother and sister shouted. His mother laid down a box in front of him. His father stood, hovering in over him, with his arms crossed. His sister, Lily, stood on his other side.

"Go on, open it." His mother chided. Christian looked eagerly at the box before him. He took the box off to reveal a typewriter! He glided his hands across the keys. His father just rolled his eyes.

"You're always scribbling away in those notebooks of yours; I thought it might be time to change along with the times." His mother said.

Lily kissed him on the cheek and wished him a happy birthday.

Christian loved writing. He wrote about what true Bohemians wrote about, according to his uncle; Freedom. Beauty. Truth, and above all things, Love.

"Enough, Enough." Father grumbled. "I'm going to the factory." Father walked out the door.

"You can put your typewriter on your new desk. I hung your diploma over it." Mother said.

Christian chuckled. His mother was always so cheerful, in a strange comparison to his grumpy father. It was a wonder they ever married, or fell in love. His parents were the worst representation of love. They seemed more like friends than lovers. Did love fade over time? Christian was sure his parents were once in love before. Christian sighed to himself. He couldn't wait to fall in love.

Christian trailed off into his room. His house was a bit big, but modest. For the most, his family made an adequate amount of money. They were far from poor. His mother's parents were very rich, and he and Lily attended the most prestigious schools. For education was the most important thing in the James' family, as his father always said.

But now that Christian was 18, he was free to do whatever he wanted. Unless his father had anything to do about it. Christian brushed his fingers over the keys. The typewriter was a truly wonderful gift. He had a feeling this typewriter would tell many stories during the course of his lifetime. He slowly began to type.

FREEDOM. BEAUTY. TRUTH. LOVE.

LOVE.

Christian thought a moment about love. Yes, he had never been in love. But he imagined it must be the most wonderful feeling in the world.

LOVE IS A MANY SPLENDOURED THING, LOVE LIFTS US UP WHERE WE BELONG. ALL YOU NEED IS LOVE.

Christian took out one of his old notebooks. It was filled with many poems all scribbled about. Christian had started writing poems when he was fifteen, at his boarding school near Southampton. Christian stared at the typewriter.

FREEDOM. BEAUTY. TRUTH. LOVE.