Satine and Christian stood hand in hand behind the curtain.
Christian smiled broadly at her, and she smiled back, but she knew
something was wrong. The audience had risen out of their seats in a
thunderous standing ovation - just what she had always wanted. As she
listened, trying to drink it all in, her heartbeat grew louder in her ears,
and her breath became harder to draw. Suddenly, her head fell back, and
she collapsed into Christian's arms.
"Satine," he said, "Satine, darling, what's the matter?"
Satine coughed, a thin trickle of blood running from her mouth. Christian gently touched his thumb to it in disbelief. The beautiful Satine, his Diamond, was dying. He began to cry.
"Christian, I'm dying," Satine whispered. Christian shook his head. Satine fell silent again and Christian yelled, "Somebody get some help!" Marie ran off for the doctor.
Satine made a few squeaking, rasping noises. Christian shushed her. "It'll be all right." Satine breathed, "You've got to go on, Christian." Christian's tears filled his eyes and blurred his vision. He caught his breath in his throat and forced it out in these thick words: "I can't go on without you."
His beloved just smiled lightly and shook her head. "Tell our story, Christian." Christian was speechless. He searched her face, looking for a sign that she would get better. But he never found it. Christian broke down and sobbed.
The audience cheered, oblivious to the tragedy, while behind the curtain the beautiful ones, the players, bowed their heads in sorrow.
One Year Later . . . .
Christian turned from his typewriter to stare blankly out of his window. He hadn't shut it since she had gone, and the curtains, once white with pride, were yellow with age and exposure to the elements. The broken, weathered, motionless wings of the Moulin Rouge stared blankly back at him. Where there were once brilliant lights there were empty bulb sockets. The courtyard was littered with broken beams and leaves from the old trees that dotted the site. Christian's eyes welled up with tears as her beautiful voice filled his head:
Suddenly the world seemed such a perfect place,
Suddenly it moved at such a perfect pace.
Suddenly my life didn't seem such a waste.
It all revolved around you.
A tear fell from his beautiful, sorrow-filled, green eyes. He blinked rapidly, tearing his eyes away from the decaying old building. He stood up from his chair, wrapped his jacket around himself, and swallowed a glass of absinthe. He pinned the final page of their story on the last open space on the wall, and laid down on his bed. He closed his eyes, but all he could see was her face.
Suddenly, there was a knock at his door. Christian reluctantly got out of his bed and pulled open the door.
"Hullo, Kwistian," came a quiet voice from two and a half feet below Christian's face. A subdued Toulouse smiled weakly up at his friend. Christian stepped back and let the midget in. Toulouse looked around at the walls covered with paper. He knew immediately what had happened.
"Kwistian, I'm so sorry," he said simply, placing his hat on the bed. "I suppose you don't feel like going out." Toulouse sat down on the bed. Christian walked right past Toulouse and onto the balcony. Words from another time entered his head:
"The courtesan convinces him that she doesn't love him. 'Thank you for curing me of my ridiculous obsession with love!' says the penniless sitar player, throwing money at her feet and fleeing the kingdom forever!"
Christian's head lifted as he heard her speak. "But a life without love, that's terrible!" she exclaimed, laughing.
The voices faded into the background. Christian leaned onto the railing, as if he couldn't support his own weight. His eyes closed slowly, and he exhaled deeply. He would never be able to get over this sorrow.
Toulouse came to stand beside Christian.
"You know," he said, "You don't have to stay here. I believe the ones that we love never leave us. She will be with you always."
Christian nearly fell to the ground as her voice came into his head again.
"One day I'll fly away,
Leave all this to yesterday.
Why live life from dream to dream
And dread the day when dreaming ends?"
He pushed himself off the railing and went to lie down on his bed again. Toulouse followed him, picked up his hat, then turned to leave.
"I'll be just down the hall if you want to talk," he said, quietly shutting the door.
Christian closed his eyes and forced himself asleep. He dreamt of her.
He was chasing her through the Moulin Rouge - up and down hallways, in and out of dressing rooms. She was wearing a beautiful, pink dress and had her long red hair pulled up into a twist on the back of her head. She laughed as they ran, and he laughed. She raced outside and it took him a few moments to follow after her. When he found her, she was walking through a patch of meadow behind the buildings, singing an all-too familiar song:
Never knew I could feel like this,
Like I've never seen the sky before.
Want to vanish inside your kiss.
Every day I'm loving you
More and more.
Listen to my heart,
Can you hear it sing?
Telling me to give you everything.
Seasons may change,
Winter to spring,
But I love you
'Til the end of time.
Christian turned in his sleep, and a single tear fell through his closed eyes. His dream of the Sparkling Diamond went on.
"Satine," he said, "Satine, darling, what's the matter?"
Satine coughed, a thin trickle of blood running from her mouth. Christian gently touched his thumb to it in disbelief. The beautiful Satine, his Diamond, was dying. He began to cry.
"Christian, I'm dying," Satine whispered. Christian shook his head. Satine fell silent again and Christian yelled, "Somebody get some help!" Marie ran off for the doctor.
Satine made a few squeaking, rasping noises. Christian shushed her. "It'll be all right." Satine breathed, "You've got to go on, Christian." Christian's tears filled his eyes and blurred his vision. He caught his breath in his throat and forced it out in these thick words: "I can't go on without you."
His beloved just smiled lightly and shook her head. "Tell our story, Christian." Christian was speechless. He searched her face, looking for a sign that she would get better. But he never found it. Christian broke down and sobbed.
The audience cheered, oblivious to the tragedy, while behind the curtain the beautiful ones, the players, bowed their heads in sorrow.
One Year Later . . . .
Christian turned from his typewriter to stare blankly out of his window. He hadn't shut it since she had gone, and the curtains, once white with pride, were yellow with age and exposure to the elements. The broken, weathered, motionless wings of the Moulin Rouge stared blankly back at him. Where there were once brilliant lights there were empty bulb sockets. The courtyard was littered with broken beams and leaves from the old trees that dotted the site. Christian's eyes welled up with tears as her beautiful voice filled his head:
Suddenly the world seemed such a perfect place,
Suddenly it moved at such a perfect pace.
Suddenly my life didn't seem such a waste.
It all revolved around you.
A tear fell from his beautiful, sorrow-filled, green eyes. He blinked rapidly, tearing his eyes away from the decaying old building. He stood up from his chair, wrapped his jacket around himself, and swallowed a glass of absinthe. He pinned the final page of their story on the last open space on the wall, and laid down on his bed. He closed his eyes, but all he could see was her face.
Suddenly, there was a knock at his door. Christian reluctantly got out of his bed and pulled open the door.
"Hullo, Kwistian," came a quiet voice from two and a half feet below Christian's face. A subdued Toulouse smiled weakly up at his friend. Christian stepped back and let the midget in. Toulouse looked around at the walls covered with paper. He knew immediately what had happened.
"Kwistian, I'm so sorry," he said simply, placing his hat on the bed. "I suppose you don't feel like going out." Toulouse sat down on the bed. Christian walked right past Toulouse and onto the balcony. Words from another time entered his head:
"The courtesan convinces him that she doesn't love him. 'Thank you for curing me of my ridiculous obsession with love!' says the penniless sitar player, throwing money at her feet and fleeing the kingdom forever!"
Christian's head lifted as he heard her speak. "But a life without love, that's terrible!" she exclaimed, laughing.
The voices faded into the background. Christian leaned onto the railing, as if he couldn't support his own weight. His eyes closed slowly, and he exhaled deeply. He would never be able to get over this sorrow.
Toulouse came to stand beside Christian.
"You know," he said, "You don't have to stay here. I believe the ones that we love never leave us. She will be with you always."
Christian nearly fell to the ground as her voice came into his head again.
"One day I'll fly away,
Leave all this to yesterday.
Why live life from dream to dream
And dread the day when dreaming ends?"
He pushed himself off the railing and went to lie down on his bed again. Toulouse followed him, picked up his hat, then turned to leave.
"I'll be just down the hall if you want to talk," he said, quietly shutting the door.
Christian closed his eyes and forced himself asleep. He dreamt of her.
He was chasing her through the Moulin Rouge - up and down hallways, in and out of dressing rooms. She was wearing a beautiful, pink dress and had her long red hair pulled up into a twist on the back of her head. She laughed as they ran, and he laughed. She raced outside and it took him a few moments to follow after her. When he found her, she was walking through a patch of meadow behind the buildings, singing an all-too familiar song:
Never knew I could feel like this,
Like I've never seen the sky before.
Want to vanish inside your kiss.
Every day I'm loving you
More and more.
Listen to my heart,
Can you hear it sing?
Telling me to give you everything.
Seasons may change,
Winter to spring,
But I love you
'Til the end of time.
Christian turned in his sleep, and a single tear fell through his closed eyes. His dream of the Sparkling Diamond went on.