Disclaimer: I don't own Moulin Rouge or it's characters. If I did I'd be
lucky, but I'm not, so I deal with it.
Author's Note: Thank you to those who reviewed this first of all. I appreciate any and all reviews that I get. I think this may turn out good. Again, this is dedicated to my best friend Quintia. (By the way, you should review her work too; she's an excellent writer.)
The Legacy of the Sparkling Diamond
Chapter 2
By, Silver Fox
And there I was, standing in front of the place where it had all began. It was here that I knew my life changed. How funny, it seemed like it was just yesterday. Just yesterday I came here with Toulouse and first saw her. Just yesterday I fell in love with her. And just yesterday we had each other and nothing else mattered. But the tomorrow of that yesterday has come, and I find myself standing here a broken, empty man. Merely a shadow of what I once was. Nevertheless, I stared at the facade of the Moulin Rouge. How tattered and worn it looked now. It didn't have the energy you could have once sensed from it. Now it seemed.dead, as dead as its star was. I brought myself to walk up to its door. I placed a hand on it. I felt nothing but cold emptiness. It seemed the two of us were very much alike, no longer living because she was dead. I took in a deep breath and pulled the door open, and in doing so I broke a long spider's web that had been growing on it. I cleared it with my hand. I stepped inside, and my assumption of the place couldn't have been more correct. The place had died.
It was no longer the exuberant colorful dance hall that I once knew, or even the elegant theater it had been turned it into. Much like the biggest part of me, this place was a void, an empty void. I walked through the garden and to the former theater. There was a coating of dust covering everything in sight. Everything smelled dank and damp. When I had opened the door, a dim light lit up part of the room. I walked to this area. This was once where the audience sat on the opening, and closing one night performance of Spectacular Spectacular. There were still chairs here, though most of them were overturned and age worn. I sat down in one of them and looked at the stage. It quite resembled an empty platform now that it had fallen to ruin. That stage held so much on it. That stage was the one that I shunned her on. I threw money at her feet, because I thought she didn't love me. It was ironic; I was acting out a scene that I myself had written. And it was on that stage that she sang to me, and I understood. On that stage our love had conquered the obsession of the Duke. For a few brief moments, that stage was out pedestal. We were so high. Then, that stage turned into the floor of hell as she died in my arms on it. As I looked at the stage thinking of all it had been, I realized that now it had not changed since the last time I saw it, it was still that same floor of hell, but now it looked the part. There wasn't much for me to do except sit and stare, until I heard something rustle.
"Is someone there?" I called into the darkness.
"Only the shadows," a downtrodden voice answered.
I got up out of the chair and strained my eyes. I could just make out a figure sitting in another chair across the room.
"I am a shadow myself. Why don't you tell me who you are?" I beseeched the figure.
The figure stood up and started to move into the light. Almost immediately, I knew who it was. There was no doubt in my mind about that. The only question I had was how to oppress my strong mixed emotions. I felt so many things toward him. I felt hate, anger, fierce loathing, and at the same time pity, sympathy, and some form of compassion toward him.
"Christian." He looked me in the eye as he entered the light. I looked back at him, my face void of emotion. I didn't say a word, as did my face, but my eyes burned with feeling. I said nothing to him.
"Christian, I.I don't know what to say."
Again, I didn't utter a word to him.
"Christian, I, well, I never thought you would ever come back here."
I sighed, lowering my head to break eye contact for a moment, then raising it to meet his eyes again.
"Well, Zidler, I think it was my destiny to return here."
This time it he who did not say a word. He merely looked at me with his sad blue eyes. It was now I noticed how different he seemed. The Harold Zidler that I remembered was a robust, energetic and exuberant man. He always seemed to have a sparkle of energy about him. Now that energy was no longer there. He was not as robust as he once was. The twinkle in his eyes was gone and his voice now lacked the fullness and booming quality that it once had. Like me, he seemed to be reduced to something less than himself.
"Zidler?"
He looked me in the eye, and it was such a depressing look that I couldn't help but shiver a little. "Christian, why are you really here?"
I was a little surprised at his question. Hadn't I just told him why I was here? I guess he wanted more of an answer. Problem was; I wasn't sure I could give him anymore of an answer.
"I guess I came back here because I'm part of her legacy, and this place is as well. I wanted to see how it was affected." I looked at him. "It seems you are a part of her legacy as well."
He sighed a heavy sigh. "That I am. We are a part of her, legacy you call it? We aren't a very impressive one, then are we?"
I had a long awaited question burning inside me. I only hesitated to ask it because I feared I could not control myself if I heard the answer I expected to hear. Still, this fierce desire had to be answered, or it would haunt me much longer than I would like. I decided to take a shot.
"No, I suppose we are not. Zidler, there's still something that I'm not quite clear on."
"Yes?"
I breathed in deeply. "How long did you know?"
He looked confused. "Know?"
"How long did you know she was going to die?"
He became utterly silent. It seemed he couldn't bear to look me in the eye anymore. I could feel the repressed anger I feared would come out slowly surfacing.
"Zidler? Are you going to answer me?"
He was still silent. It seemed that I had touched upon a delicate subject for him. Either that or I struck a nerve. Either way, it didn't matter to me. What I wanted was an answer.
"I can correctly assume that you knew, is that right?"
"Yes, I knew."
Already this was bringing about my mixed feelings. "How long did you know?"
He finally started talking, yet he still wouldn't look me in the eye. "It was the day I saw the two of you together. Satine was going to meet you, and I told her to tell you that it was over and to go to the Duke."
Just the mention of the Duke caused my blood's temperature to dramatically rise. "What else happened?" I coolly asked him.
"She passed out. Marie called the doctor and she never made it to you or the Duke. It was then the doctor told us she was dying."
The cold distinct day was coming back to my memory. I remembered that the next day she had told me she was sick. A wall of bricks was falling on me now. If only I had known how sick she was. If I had known, I would have taken her far away, so she could get better. If I had only known, but I hadn't.
"Did you tell her?" I asked him, still controlling my voice.
"No, we didn't tell her. The show had to go on. All of our futures depended on that show. The show depended on her."
I could no longer control all of my repressed anger, and as I had feared, some of it was leaking out. Before I let any out, I wanted him to see it. "Look me in the eye, Zidler."
He finally turned his head up and his gaze met mine. His eyes told a thousand words he could never have said, and I understood every word. My eyes in turn were also saying things, but I let my mouth do the talking.
"Do you realize you killed her?" I obviously frightened him, but he was fighting showing it.
"It wasn't just me."
"Well you certainly did help. Why didn't you tell her?" My voice was getting raised.
"I couldn't. At the time-,"
"Don't give me that 'at the time' crap." Not being able to control myself any longer I grabbed his shirt collar and now my voice truly reflected the anger that I felt. "You pushed her so hard. You knew you were killing her, but you pushed her anyway. People can recover from consumption with rest, but you pushed her to her death!!" I screamed at him, and I'm sure I must have had at least one tear escape my eyes. He stared at me, wordless. He didn't seem to be able to speak. My grip on him tightened. Then, I heard something. I heard a clanking clunking sound. Like the sound of, high heels? My grip on him loosened as I turned to the stage to see where it was coming from. I released my grip on him and walked over to the stage when I saw who walked out across it.
"Well if it isn't Mr. Shakespeare," she scoffed at me.
I merely stared at her and said in a monotone voice, "Nini. Nini-legs-in- the-air. What a pleasure."
Author's Note: I hope that wasn't too bad. I may write more, if I get feedback, so please review! Oh, and for some other great writing review my best friend Quintia's work, she'd appreciate it.
Author's Note: Thank you to those who reviewed this first of all. I appreciate any and all reviews that I get. I think this may turn out good. Again, this is dedicated to my best friend Quintia. (By the way, you should review her work too; she's an excellent writer.)
The Legacy of the Sparkling Diamond
Chapter 2
By, Silver Fox
And there I was, standing in front of the place where it had all began. It was here that I knew my life changed. How funny, it seemed like it was just yesterday. Just yesterday I came here with Toulouse and first saw her. Just yesterday I fell in love with her. And just yesterday we had each other and nothing else mattered. But the tomorrow of that yesterday has come, and I find myself standing here a broken, empty man. Merely a shadow of what I once was. Nevertheless, I stared at the facade of the Moulin Rouge. How tattered and worn it looked now. It didn't have the energy you could have once sensed from it. Now it seemed.dead, as dead as its star was. I brought myself to walk up to its door. I placed a hand on it. I felt nothing but cold emptiness. It seemed the two of us were very much alike, no longer living because she was dead. I took in a deep breath and pulled the door open, and in doing so I broke a long spider's web that had been growing on it. I cleared it with my hand. I stepped inside, and my assumption of the place couldn't have been more correct. The place had died.
It was no longer the exuberant colorful dance hall that I once knew, or even the elegant theater it had been turned it into. Much like the biggest part of me, this place was a void, an empty void. I walked through the garden and to the former theater. There was a coating of dust covering everything in sight. Everything smelled dank and damp. When I had opened the door, a dim light lit up part of the room. I walked to this area. This was once where the audience sat on the opening, and closing one night performance of Spectacular Spectacular. There were still chairs here, though most of them were overturned and age worn. I sat down in one of them and looked at the stage. It quite resembled an empty platform now that it had fallen to ruin. That stage held so much on it. That stage was the one that I shunned her on. I threw money at her feet, because I thought she didn't love me. It was ironic; I was acting out a scene that I myself had written. And it was on that stage that she sang to me, and I understood. On that stage our love had conquered the obsession of the Duke. For a few brief moments, that stage was out pedestal. We were so high. Then, that stage turned into the floor of hell as she died in my arms on it. As I looked at the stage thinking of all it had been, I realized that now it had not changed since the last time I saw it, it was still that same floor of hell, but now it looked the part. There wasn't much for me to do except sit and stare, until I heard something rustle.
"Is someone there?" I called into the darkness.
"Only the shadows," a downtrodden voice answered.
I got up out of the chair and strained my eyes. I could just make out a figure sitting in another chair across the room.
"I am a shadow myself. Why don't you tell me who you are?" I beseeched the figure.
The figure stood up and started to move into the light. Almost immediately, I knew who it was. There was no doubt in my mind about that. The only question I had was how to oppress my strong mixed emotions. I felt so many things toward him. I felt hate, anger, fierce loathing, and at the same time pity, sympathy, and some form of compassion toward him.
"Christian." He looked me in the eye as he entered the light. I looked back at him, my face void of emotion. I didn't say a word, as did my face, but my eyes burned with feeling. I said nothing to him.
"Christian, I.I don't know what to say."
Again, I didn't utter a word to him.
"Christian, I, well, I never thought you would ever come back here."
I sighed, lowering my head to break eye contact for a moment, then raising it to meet his eyes again.
"Well, Zidler, I think it was my destiny to return here."
This time it he who did not say a word. He merely looked at me with his sad blue eyes. It was now I noticed how different he seemed. The Harold Zidler that I remembered was a robust, energetic and exuberant man. He always seemed to have a sparkle of energy about him. Now that energy was no longer there. He was not as robust as he once was. The twinkle in his eyes was gone and his voice now lacked the fullness and booming quality that it once had. Like me, he seemed to be reduced to something less than himself.
"Zidler?"
He looked me in the eye, and it was such a depressing look that I couldn't help but shiver a little. "Christian, why are you really here?"
I was a little surprised at his question. Hadn't I just told him why I was here? I guess he wanted more of an answer. Problem was; I wasn't sure I could give him anymore of an answer.
"I guess I came back here because I'm part of her legacy, and this place is as well. I wanted to see how it was affected." I looked at him. "It seems you are a part of her legacy as well."
He sighed a heavy sigh. "That I am. We are a part of her, legacy you call it? We aren't a very impressive one, then are we?"
I had a long awaited question burning inside me. I only hesitated to ask it because I feared I could not control myself if I heard the answer I expected to hear. Still, this fierce desire had to be answered, or it would haunt me much longer than I would like. I decided to take a shot.
"No, I suppose we are not. Zidler, there's still something that I'm not quite clear on."
"Yes?"
I breathed in deeply. "How long did you know?"
He looked confused. "Know?"
"How long did you know she was going to die?"
He became utterly silent. It seemed he couldn't bear to look me in the eye anymore. I could feel the repressed anger I feared would come out slowly surfacing.
"Zidler? Are you going to answer me?"
He was still silent. It seemed that I had touched upon a delicate subject for him. Either that or I struck a nerve. Either way, it didn't matter to me. What I wanted was an answer.
"I can correctly assume that you knew, is that right?"
"Yes, I knew."
Already this was bringing about my mixed feelings. "How long did you know?"
He finally started talking, yet he still wouldn't look me in the eye. "It was the day I saw the two of you together. Satine was going to meet you, and I told her to tell you that it was over and to go to the Duke."
Just the mention of the Duke caused my blood's temperature to dramatically rise. "What else happened?" I coolly asked him.
"She passed out. Marie called the doctor and she never made it to you or the Duke. It was then the doctor told us she was dying."
The cold distinct day was coming back to my memory. I remembered that the next day she had told me she was sick. A wall of bricks was falling on me now. If only I had known how sick she was. If I had known, I would have taken her far away, so she could get better. If I had only known, but I hadn't.
"Did you tell her?" I asked him, still controlling my voice.
"No, we didn't tell her. The show had to go on. All of our futures depended on that show. The show depended on her."
I could no longer control all of my repressed anger, and as I had feared, some of it was leaking out. Before I let any out, I wanted him to see it. "Look me in the eye, Zidler."
He finally turned his head up and his gaze met mine. His eyes told a thousand words he could never have said, and I understood every word. My eyes in turn were also saying things, but I let my mouth do the talking.
"Do you realize you killed her?" I obviously frightened him, but he was fighting showing it.
"It wasn't just me."
"Well you certainly did help. Why didn't you tell her?" My voice was getting raised.
"I couldn't. At the time-,"
"Don't give me that 'at the time' crap." Not being able to control myself any longer I grabbed his shirt collar and now my voice truly reflected the anger that I felt. "You pushed her so hard. You knew you were killing her, but you pushed her anyway. People can recover from consumption with rest, but you pushed her to her death!!" I screamed at him, and I'm sure I must have had at least one tear escape my eyes. He stared at me, wordless. He didn't seem to be able to speak. My grip on him tightened. Then, I heard something. I heard a clanking clunking sound. Like the sound of, high heels? My grip on him loosened as I turned to the stage to see where it was coming from. I released my grip on him and walked over to the stage when I saw who walked out across it.
"Well if it isn't Mr. Shakespeare," she scoffed at me.
I merely stared at her and said in a monotone voice, "Nini. Nini-legs-in- the-air. What a pleasure."
Author's Note: I hope that wasn't too bad. I may write more, if I get feedback, so please review! Oh, and for some other great writing review my best friend Quintia's work, she'd appreciate it.