Christian stared at his chapped ashen hands, still amazed at how smooth and
seamless
they were, like snowy satin wrapped around his bones. How much his beloved Monmarte
had stayed the same! Though bohemians no longer wandered the dark bars, now lit
internally from the fluorescent and neon lights of television sets, the rich men that did
infest the area seemed like ghosts still caught in the web of the turn of the century. Even
the Moulin Rouge still stood, its garnet bulbs still swinging across the night sky leaving a
bittersweet stain on the inky dimness. Christian let himself stare at the mill until his
vision was bleached red, nothing but the swinging cherry lights that clung to hazy stars.
Even now he debated over what he had selfishly done, what had seemed so morally
wrong, to turn his rose haired angel into a demon. He let his head drop back onto the firm
brick wall of the building behind him, and memories of what had been flood his
consciousness.....
Monmarte, 1899
Christian's head was filled with thoughts of Satine as he walked through the dirty streets
of Paris. The way her flaming hair hung past her shoulders in sloping curls, her milky
skin glowing as a heated blush crept into her round cheeks, her cobalt eyes sparkling, and
her coral lips tugged upwards into a smile. She was so beautiful, his Satine, his sparkling
diamond. He had pawned his typewriter and had bought an engagement ring, just a
simple band of gold and silver, pretty in its own way. He hummed, fingering the small
bright circlet, going over their last conversation in his mind.
*"Do you love me Christian?" she had asked almost uncertainly, a tiny frown wrinkling
the pale skin of her forehead. She always needed that assurance, to hear the words come
out of his mouth. He grasped one of her silky hands, so warm in his own, and smiled
gently.
"You know I do Satine. I love you so much. So much." he said, bending forward in to
press his lips onto her own. This kiss deepened, throbbing, stroking, blazing velvet. The
heat between them became intoxicating, dazzling, almost seething from their bodies.
They leaned into each other as their passion ignited, their limbs tangling together, her
hands entwined in his dark hair.
"I love you too." she had whispered. *
Yes, he would give this to her tonight, and they would run away just like they often
talked about in those rare moments when they were alone. The streets were already
darkening as his eyes sought out the bright lights of Le Amore Fou and the spinning mill
of the Moulin Rouge, that always lit the sky with eerie shades of red. He felt an
impossibly strong hand tug him from behind, and pain, numbing pain, burst from the base
of his skull. Something trickled down his back, sticky, warm, *his own blood*, he
realized sickly. His blurring vision saw the gold ring slip from the grasp of his weakening
fingers, and roll away with a tinkle over the grimy cobblestones. Finally, the gold was
enveloped by the black, and he fainted.
The pain had lessened to a dull ache, taunting, it seemed. His hands and feet were tied
down onto each post of the brass bed he was lying on with what looked like sheets. A
fever was already burning on his sweat soaked forehead, making him disoriented. The
room he was in was bare of all other furnishings or windows except for a crude wooden
stool in the corner on which a single lit candelabra rested. The walls, from what he could
see, were whitewashed, and a door was not visible in the dim light. Nothing could be
seen except for blackness, pierced vaguely by a dying, filtered flame from the candles.
His breathing became ragged, heavy with fear, emphasized by the stillness of the room.
Attempting to sit up, he heard the unmistakable creaking of hinges.
"Who's there?" he cried desperately into the darkness, fear fluttering in the base of his
belly like a caged bird. Silence answered, empty and lonely. He swallowed, his heart
beating frantically, almost audible in the quiet of the room. He knew something was
there, he could feel it.
"What do want from me?" he yelled, straining at his bonds desperately, but knowing they
wouldn't loosen. "Why did you bring me here?" His voice sounded high and anguished
even to himself. A figure moved in the shadows, tall and slim, a slender hand with long
tapering fingers lifting the candelabra and pushing the stool closer to where Christian was
lying. He narrowed his eyes, trying to make out the form, but all he could see was a
vague silhouette.
"Do not be afraid." the creature announced, its voice low and smooth, melodious. "I am
here to give you the choice I never had." it continued almost sadly, the flickering candles
failing to illuminate its body. "Your skull is fractured, and you are at the door of death.
Left alone, you will most certainly die." Christian felt his breath catch in his throat,
disbelief mixed with despair whizzing through his muddled mind. *Die?* he
thought. *Satine....*
"You are the one that did this to me!" he shouted angrily.
"No." the creature said firmly, bowing its head. "It was not I. It was a common thief to
rob you off the few things that you had. I had saved you." Christian shook his head, bile
rising in his throat.
"Save me? SAVE ME? You have not saved me. You have *kidnapped* me." he spit
out, the bed rattling from his attempts to escape
"Shhhh..." the creature whispered. "You are not of sound mind. Fear and pain clouds your
judgment. But you must still make the choice that I offer."
"What offer is this?" Christian asked in a lower voice, deadly quiet.
"You will die, that is a certainty now, but I give you the opportunity to live forever."
Christian began to open his mouth, but the creature lifted a single finger for silence. "Do
not speak so quickly. The choice seems simple now, for you know not the implications of
your decision. You will no longer be yourself, but a being far greater." The creature
finally rose the candelabra to his face and Christian drew back in wonder blended with
fear. This thing's skin was ashen, bloodless, but giving off an unknown iridescence. The
lips were cold, a frosty pink, yet sensual in a way. Its hair, black, fell into its forehead
like an unkempt mop of soot, so dark in color to its skin. But its eyes, its eyes were so
fierce, and yet awe-inspiring. They were hypnotic, burning from the white cinders of the
face like dieing blue flames, almost leaving trails in the darkness. "This is what you will
become." Christian gasped, staring at this creature. His thoughts roamed back to Satine,
Satine so beautiful and alive, then Satine crying when he was dead. When he was dead.
He raised his eyes once again to the thing's face.
"I want to live."
they were, like snowy satin wrapped around his bones. How much his beloved Monmarte
had stayed the same! Though bohemians no longer wandered the dark bars, now lit
internally from the fluorescent and neon lights of television sets, the rich men that did
infest the area seemed like ghosts still caught in the web of the turn of the century. Even
the Moulin Rouge still stood, its garnet bulbs still swinging across the night sky leaving a
bittersweet stain on the inky dimness. Christian let himself stare at the mill until his
vision was bleached red, nothing but the swinging cherry lights that clung to hazy stars.
Even now he debated over what he had selfishly done, what had seemed so morally
wrong, to turn his rose haired angel into a demon. He let his head drop back onto the firm
brick wall of the building behind him, and memories of what had been flood his
consciousness.....
Monmarte, 1899
Christian's head was filled with thoughts of Satine as he walked through the dirty streets
of Paris. The way her flaming hair hung past her shoulders in sloping curls, her milky
skin glowing as a heated blush crept into her round cheeks, her cobalt eyes sparkling, and
her coral lips tugged upwards into a smile. She was so beautiful, his Satine, his sparkling
diamond. He had pawned his typewriter and had bought an engagement ring, just a
simple band of gold and silver, pretty in its own way. He hummed, fingering the small
bright circlet, going over their last conversation in his mind.
*"Do you love me Christian?" she had asked almost uncertainly, a tiny frown wrinkling
the pale skin of her forehead. She always needed that assurance, to hear the words come
out of his mouth. He grasped one of her silky hands, so warm in his own, and smiled
gently.
"You know I do Satine. I love you so much. So much." he said, bending forward in to
press his lips onto her own. This kiss deepened, throbbing, stroking, blazing velvet. The
heat between them became intoxicating, dazzling, almost seething from their bodies.
They leaned into each other as their passion ignited, their limbs tangling together, her
hands entwined in his dark hair.
"I love you too." she had whispered. *
Yes, he would give this to her tonight, and they would run away just like they often
talked about in those rare moments when they were alone. The streets were already
darkening as his eyes sought out the bright lights of Le Amore Fou and the spinning mill
of the Moulin Rouge, that always lit the sky with eerie shades of red. He felt an
impossibly strong hand tug him from behind, and pain, numbing pain, burst from the base
of his skull. Something trickled down his back, sticky, warm, *his own blood*, he
realized sickly. His blurring vision saw the gold ring slip from the grasp of his weakening
fingers, and roll away with a tinkle over the grimy cobblestones. Finally, the gold was
enveloped by the black, and he fainted.
The pain had lessened to a dull ache, taunting, it seemed. His hands and feet were tied
down onto each post of the brass bed he was lying on with what looked like sheets. A
fever was already burning on his sweat soaked forehead, making him disoriented. The
room he was in was bare of all other furnishings or windows except for a crude wooden
stool in the corner on which a single lit candelabra rested. The walls, from what he could
see, were whitewashed, and a door was not visible in the dim light. Nothing could be
seen except for blackness, pierced vaguely by a dying, filtered flame from the candles.
His breathing became ragged, heavy with fear, emphasized by the stillness of the room.
Attempting to sit up, he heard the unmistakable creaking of hinges.
"Who's there?" he cried desperately into the darkness, fear fluttering in the base of his
belly like a caged bird. Silence answered, empty and lonely. He swallowed, his heart
beating frantically, almost audible in the quiet of the room. He knew something was
there, he could feel it.
"What do want from me?" he yelled, straining at his bonds desperately, but knowing they
wouldn't loosen. "Why did you bring me here?" His voice sounded high and anguished
even to himself. A figure moved in the shadows, tall and slim, a slender hand with long
tapering fingers lifting the candelabra and pushing the stool closer to where Christian was
lying. He narrowed his eyes, trying to make out the form, but all he could see was a
vague silhouette.
"Do not be afraid." the creature announced, its voice low and smooth, melodious. "I am
here to give you the choice I never had." it continued almost sadly, the flickering candles
failing to illuminate its body. "Your skull is fractured, and you are at the door of death.
Left alone, you will most certainly die." Christian felt his breath catch in his throat,
disbelief mixed with despair whizzing through his muddled mind. *Die?* he
thought. *Satine....*
"You are the one that did this to me!" he shouted angrily.
"No." the creature said firmly, bowing its head. "It was not I. It was a common thief to
rob you off the few things that you had. I had saved you." Christian shook his head, bile
rising in his throat.
"Save me? SAVE ME? You have not saved me. You have *kidnapped* me." he spit
out, the bed rattling from his attempts to escape
"Shhhh..." the creature whispered. "You are not of sound mind. Fear and pain clouds your
judgment. But you must still make the choice that I offer."
"What offer is this?" Christian asked in a lower voice, deadly quiet.
"You will die, that is a certainty now, but I give you the opportunity to live forever."
Christian began to open his mouth, but the creature lifted a single finger for silence. "Do
not speak so quickly. The choice seems simple now, for you know not the implications of
your decision. You will no longer be yourself, but a being far greater." The creature
finally rose the candelabra to his face and Christian drew back in wonder blended with
fear. This thing's skin was ashen, bloodless, but giving off an unknown iridescence. The
lips were cold, a frosty pink, yet sensual in a way. Its hair, black, fell into its forehead
like an unkempt mop of soot, so dark in color to its skin. But its eyes, its eyes were so
fierce, and yet awe-inspiring. They were hypnotic, burning from the white cinders of the
face like dieing blue flames, almost leaving trails in the darkness. "This is what you will
become." Christian gasped, staring at this creature. His thoughts roamed back to Satine,
Satine so beautiful and alive, then Satine crying when he was dead. When he was dead.
He raised his eyes once again to the thing's face.
"I want to live."