What can I say about the man with the silly mustache and love of theatrics? He found us that morning under the elephant took us in and raised us as his own. He even gave us our names, Satine and Le Chocolat. We were only children, but Zidler taught us everything he could about the Moulin Rouge, just waiting for us to grow older and become his theatre puppets. Both Satine and I held a respect and disdain for this man, but he was the only father we had ever known, and he gave us the closest thing to love that we had ever felt from any adult.
It is strange to think about how it all started. It feels like I have lived two completely different lives. Satine and I did things in our new life that were questionable at best, but we had a family in the Moulin Rouge…
"Who might you two be little ones?" asked a man with a gruff voice.
Sister and I looked up at the strange man only to realize that he was the Harry Zidler, the man who ran the Moulin Rouge!
I kept my mouth shut, but Sister knew an opportunity when she saw one, "We, Monsier Zidler, are Moulin Rouge dancers," I bit my lip and I couldn't bring myself to look at her or Zidler. How could she say that? What was he going to do to us? There had been times when adults had whipped us for stealing, what was this Zidler going to do to us for trespassing on his property?
But he just laughed, "Oh really? Well now I suppose you two should not be out here shivering in the rain, but should be inside entertaining the powerful men of Paris!"
I will never forget my first real look inside the Moulin Rouge. It was more beautiful than anything I could have ever imagined. Everything was so over the top, so vibrant, and full of life. It felt as though I had found the fountain of youth, a small pocket of the world that felt eternal, and perfect. That would change with time, however, and as much as I would try to deny it in the future, I knew that this place was nothing more than a hell on Earth, where everyone grew old in a matter of minutes, and death lingered in the air. Death of innocence, of purity, and finally the death of my beloved sister, but I am getting ahead of myself.
I still remember the first night that Satine worked on the dance floor of the Moulin Rouge. I was not yet of age, well according to Zidler, so I had to be left behind in our room that was shared with all of the other children Zidler had found abandoned on the streets.
"Sister, do you have to go?" I asked pulling on the peacock feathers that adorned her rather elaborate costume that still managed to leave not much to the imagination.
"My name is Satine, and please stop pulling on my feathers, they are going to fall off if you keep that up," She bustled about packing up the last of her things before going to the dance hall where all the performances took place.
I pulled back, feeling like I had completely lost her. She was not my sister anymore. I watched as she put the last article of clothing in a box. Satine was to move to the dancers' room after tonight, and leave me with the other children for a little longer. She was on her way to stardom, as far as she was concerned, but I was not so sure.