The day had just dawned in the brightening sky, breaking into the morning.
Below the clouds, birds began a soft tune as people began to wake up as
they did from day to day.
Above the clouds, in Heaven, the angels woke from their fluffy cloud beds.
Satine stretched her arms and legs as the feathers of her wings spread out, and settled gold shoes onto her feet.
She folded her hands in her lap as she sat at her vanity and drank in the sight of the liquid gold sun, glinting in the horizon.
"Morning," a dark haired woman said, peaking her head past Satine's mirror.
Satine laughed slightly. "Oh, hello. How wonderful to see you."
"Did you see the sun today?"
"I did. Isn't it splendid?" Satine smiled. "I'll be out in just a second."
She watched as her friend went around the corner and she sighed, looking up at the sun. It was so beautiful. For lifetimes she lived above the clouds, watching the same gorgeous sun rise and set.
She loved it all, she felt her heart lift and become light every peaceful morning. Everything here was perfect, unlike down below. Wars, murder. . . things good angels should never hear about was happening below them. To help the humans was one thing, but to watch them was another thing. But sometimes, when shimmering silver played in the darkness she swirled around the clouds and watched the curious creatures below.
Satine sighed as she looked over her shoulder and saw no one. She bent down and swirled the clouds, and a hole opened up, showing a window into a family's house as they worked around their log cabin - chopping wood, patting their dogs, kissing their wives.
"I want much more than this provincial life," she whispered without thinking. She looked over her shoulder again, and seeing no one, she continued, singing this time. "I want adventure in the great wide somewhere. I want it more than I can tell. And for once it might be grand to have someone understand." She reached out and touched the people in the mirror. "I want so much more than they've got planned."
"Satine, are you writing a poem without me in there?" Catherine asked, coming around the corner.
Satine waved her hand over the hole quickly as she hastily stood up. "No. . . no, just talking to myself."
"About what?"
Satine sat completely still as she reached for a piece of parchment.
"Just reading this poem. . . out loud."
"What does it say?"
Satine bit her pale lips and pushed her flaming red hair over her shoulder. This poem was not just any poem - it was a human's poem. Not even to her dearest friend was Satine willing to tell her this.
"Oh, no. . . it's not very good," she insisted, though she had never read the poem.
"Oh, I bet it is." The dark haired angel held her hand out.
"Oh, no really. . ."
"Please, I'd like to see it." She reached out and held it in front of her eyes.
"I had withdrawn in the forest," Catherine read aloud, "and my song was swallowed up in leaves that blew away. And to the forest edge you came and looked and pondered long, but you did not enter, though the wish was strong. Not far, but near, I stood and saw it all behind low boughs the trees let down outside. And the sweet pang it cost me not to call and tell you that I saw does still abide. But 'tis not true that thus I dwelt aloof, for the wood wakes, and you are here for proof."
As Catherine read, her voice became quiet, until at the end her voice was shaky in a whisper. "This. . . this is wonderful," Catherine said quietly. "But how did you. . ."
"Please don't ask."
"Below the clouds. . . these emotions. . ." She suddenly became quiet as Satine stood and held her friend.
A long time ago, Catherine had been murdered and she had to abandon her family and the man she loved to come and be an angel. Only once had she shared the tale before breaking down into sobs.
"I didn't write it," Satine whispered.
Catherine lifted her head, and with red splashed eyes she said, "What?"
"I got it. . ." She took in a deep breath. "I got it from below."
Catherine gasped and pulled away, her hand raising to her mouth. "You. . . below. . ."
"A human wrote it," she whispered. She pointed to a stack of papers. "They wrote those." She pushed back a lid by her bed and an even larger stack revealed more papers. "They wrote all these."
"But how did you. . ." Catherine started.
"It's not important how I got them."
"But. . . you can't do this! The human race. . ."
"Is wonderful!" Satine said, smiling widely.
"But you heard about all I went through down there, all the evil. . ."
"Not everything about them is evil. Look at these papers." She crouched and thumbed through some of them. "They talk about love, Catherine. Love!"
"I can't believe this."
"Above all things I believe in love," Satine whispered, reading a paper slowly. "Love is like oxygen. Love is a many splendor thing. Love lifts us up to where we belong. All you need is love!"
Catherine said nothing.
"How can you stand there and hear that and still think they're evil, Catherine?"
"Down there. . . they kill."
"And down there they love. You were in love once, Catherine. Don't tell me you forgot about Fredrick already."
"You don't know what you're talking about, Satine," her friend said, facing her. "You've never been down there, you've never walked the streets out there all alone with nothing but the rain to keep you company."
"But I'd like to." Satine clapped her hand over her mouth, regretting the words that came out of her mouth. Trade utopia for shades of gray? She had thought about it before, but to say it aloud. . .
"You'd like to?" Catherine whispered.
Satine turned away and looked at the parchment with the beautiful words of love on them. "Maybe there is something the matter with me. . . but I just don't see how a world that makes such wonderful things could be bad."
Satin sat down slowly and sighed. "I've lived here all my life. . . it's so beautiful here. . . and wouldn't you think I'm the girl who has everything? I have everything I'd ever need. . . but who cares? No big deal. I want more." She swirled the clouds to make another hole. "I wanna be what the people are," she whispered. "I wanna see, wanna see them dancing."
The world turned under her fingers in the mirror through a beaten path in the woods and over a hill to a city with buildings and skylines. "Up where they walk, up where they run. Up where they stay all day in the sun. Wandering free, wish I could be part of that world."
The mirror changed again, and showed a beach with blue-green waves washing over large rocks under the same liquid-gold sun. "What would I pay to spend a day warm on the sand?"
The mirror under her fingers showed a couple hugging on a hill and she slowly took in a breath. "When's it my turn, when I love, love to explore that shore up above? Out of the clouds, wish I could be. . . part of that world."
With tears in her eyes, Catherine turned away and left.
Satine sighed and looked at the paper that had found it's way out of her hand. "Above all things I believe in love. . ." she whispered. The author wrote of such beautiful passion. She felt a deep feeling sweep over her entire body, but she couldn't explain it. How could you explain something you didn't understand?
It was a beautiful poem. . . maybe written for his wife or fiancée. She swirled the clouds and the mirror took her to the bedroom of the poet - a young man. He was stooped over a typewriter. When, finally, he straightened, Satine held her breath.
He was so beautiful. . . dark, midnight hair, soft blue-green eyes, and his smile. . . as soft as rose petals.
She felt a strange feeling come over her as she watched him get up and move around the room, look out his window at a fairly large field, and felt words bubble up her throat.
"What would I give to live where you are?" she whispered, not caring if anyone was behind her. "What would I pay to stay here beside you? What would I do to see you, smiling at me?" He turned suddenly, and he looked like he was looking exactly at her. . . and grinned. She laughed slightly as she ran her fingers through her hair. "Where would we walk? Where would we run if we could stay all day in the sun? Just you and me and I could be. . . part of your world."
"It's done," someone said behind her.
Satine turned suddenly and saw Catherine at the doorway. "Wh-what?"
"It's done," she said again. "You won't remember anything here. . . you're going to be given a new identity. But five minutes before you die, you'll remember it all."
Satine stood and began to walk toward her. "What are you. . ."
Catherine hastily hugged her tightly. "Oh Satine. . . be careful." She kissed her on the cheek and left quickly.
"No, wait. . ." Before Satine could do anything, her wings began to vanish and the clouds under her feet blinded her with a white light and she fell, plunging toward the ground below.
When Satine woke next, she was laying on a cold, hard floor. She rubbed her head as she lifted herself off of the ground.
"Are you all right?" asked a voice.
Satine turned and met the eyes of a man with three shades of red hair and rosy cheeks. He wore a red tailcoat and red knee pants and held a black cane.
"Where. . . where am I?"
"Why. . . we just found you on the floor," he said, putting his hand on her forehead. "Darling, you're here. . . at the Moulin Rouge."
----------------------------------------- Disclaimer: All characters belong to me and my good friend Baz.
A/N: Ok, I had this idea for a while. . . don't know when it came, but I was already committed to another project, so I just started this. I was just hit by inspiration one night and started to write it. . . Hope it turned out ok! And I hope you don't take offence to the way I portrayed the angels and Heaven. And I used a poem by Robert Frost. . . hehe if you thought I wrote it. Thanks a bunch!
Songs used: 'Belle' reprise from Beauty and the Beast, 'Part of your World' from the Little Mermaid(the best Disney movie!!!!) sorry I changed it a bit!, 'Part of your World(reprise) from the LM.
Above the clouds, in Heaven, the angels woke from their fluffy cloud beds.
Satine stretched her arms and legs as the feathers of her wings spread out, and settled gold shoes onto her feet.
She folded her hands in her lap as she sat at her vanity and drank in the sight of the liquid gold sun, glinting in the horizon.
"Morning," a dark haired woman said, peaking her head past Satine's mirror.
Satine laughed slightly. "Oh, hello. How wonderful to see you."
"Did you see the sun today?"
"I did. Isn't it splendid?" Satine smiled. "I'll be out in just a second."
She watched as her friend went around the corner and she sighed, looking up at the sun. It was so beautiful. For lifetimes she lived above the clouds, watching the same gorgeous sun rise and set.
She loved it all, she felt her heart lift and become light every peaceful morning. Everything here was perfect, unlike down below. Wars, murder. . . things good angels should never hear about was happening below them. To help the humans was one thing, but to watch them was another thing. But sometimes, when shimmering silver played in the darkness she swirled around the clouds and watched the curious creatures below.
Satine sighed as she looked over her shoulder and saw no one. She bent down and swirled the clouds, and a hole opened up, showing a window into a family's house as they worked around their log cabin - chopping wood, patting their dogs, kissing their wives.
"I want much more than this provincial life," she whispered without thinking. She looked over her shoulder again, and seeing no one, she continued, singing this time. "I want adventure in the great wide somewhere. I want it more than I can tell. And for once it might be grand to have someone understand." She reached out and touched the people in the mirror. "I want so much more than they've got planned."
"Satine, are you writing a poem without me in there?" Catherine asked, coming around the corner.
Satine waved her hand over the hole quickly as she hastily stood up. "No. . . no, just talking to myself."
"About what?"
Satine sat completely still as she reached for a piece of parchment.
"Just reading this poem. . . out loud."
"What does it say?"
Satine bit her pale lips and pushed her flaming red hair over her shoulder. This poem was not just any poem - it was a human's poem. Not even to her dearest friend was Satine willing to tell her this.
"Oh, no. . . it's not very good," she insisted, though she had never read the poem.
"Oh, I bet it is." The dark haired angel held her hand out.
"Oh, no really. . ."
"Please, I'd like to see it." She reached out and held it in front of her eyes.
"I had withdrawn in the forest," Catherine read aloud, "and my song was swallowed up in leaves that blew away. And to the forest edge you came and looked and pondered long, but you did not enter, though the wish was strong. Not far, but near, I stood and saw it all behind low boughs the trees let down outside. And the sweet pang it cost me not to call and tell you that I saw does still abide. But 'tis not true that thus I dwelt aloof, for the wood wakes, and you are here for proof."
As Catherine read, her voice became quiet, until at the end her voice was shaky in a whisper. "This. . . this is wonderful," Catherine said quietly. "But how did you. . ."
"Please don't ask."
"Below the clouds. . . these emotions. . ." She suddenly became quiet as Satine stood and held her friend.
A long time ago, Catherine had been murdered and she had to abandon her family and the man she loved to come and be an angel. Only once had she shared the tale before breaking down into sobs.
"I didn't write it," Satine whispered.
Catherine lifted her head, and with red splashed eyes she said, "What?"
"I got it. . ." She took in a deep breath. "I got it from below."
Catherine gasped and pulled away, her hand raising to her mouth. "You. . . below. . ."
"A human wrote it," she whispered. She pointed to a stack of papers. "They wrote those." She pushed back a lid by her bed and an even larger stack revealed more papers. "They wrote all these."
"But how did you. . ." Catherine started.
"It's not important how I got them."
"But. . . you can't do this! The human race. . ."
"Is wonderful!" Satine said, smiling widely.
"But you heard about all I went through down there, all the evil. . ."
"Not everything about them is evil. Look at these papers." She crouched and thumbed through some of them. "They talk about love, Catherine. Love!"
"I can't believe this."
"Above all things I believe in love," Satine whispered, reading a paper slowly. "Love is like oxygen. Love is a many splendor thing. Love lifts us up to where we belong. All you need is love!"
Catherine said nothing.
"How can you stand there and hear that and still think they're evil, Catherine?"
"Down there. . . they kill."
"And down there they love. You were in love once, Catherine. Don't tell me you forgot about Fredrick already."
"You don't know what you're talking about, Satine," her friend said, facing her. "You've never been down there, you've never walked the streets out there all alone with nothing but the rain to keep you company."
"But I'd like to." Satine clapped her hand over her mouth, regretting the words that came out of her mouth. Trade utopia for shades of gray? She had thought about it before, but to say it aloud. . .
"You'd like to?" Catherine whispered.
Satine turned away and looked at the parchment with the beautiful words of love on them. "Maybe there is something the matter with me. . . but I just don't see how a world that makes such wonderful things could be bad."
Satin sat down slowly and sighed. "I've lived here all my life. . . it's so beautiful here. . . and wouldn't you think I'm the girl who has everything? I have everything I'd ever need. . . but who cares? No big deal. I want more." She swirled the clouds to make another hole. "I wanna be what the people are," she whispered. "I wanna see, wanna see them dancing."
The world turned under her fingers in the mirror through a beaten path in the woods and over a hill to a city with buildings and skylines. "Up where they walk, up where they run. Up where they stay all day in the sun. Wandering free, wish I could be part of that world."
The mirror changed again, and showed a beach with blue-green waves washing over large rocks under the same liquid-gold sun. "What would I pay to spend a day warm on the sand?"
The mirror under her fingers showed a couple hugging on a hill and she slowly took in a breath. "When's it my turn, when I love, love to explore that shore up above? Out of the clouds, wish I could be. . . part of that world."
With tears in her eyes, Catherine turned away and left.
Satine sighed and looked at the paper that had found it's way out of her hand. "Above all things I believe in love. . ." she whispered. The author wrote of such beautiful passion. She felt a deep feeling sweep over her entire body, but she couldn't explain it. How could you explain something you didn't understand?
It was a beautiful poem. . . maybe written for his wife or fiancée. She swirled the clouds and the mirror took her to the bedroom of the poet - a young man. He was stooped over a typewriter. When, finally, he straightened, Satine held her breath.
He was so beautiful. . . dark, midnight hair, soft blue-green eyes, and his smile. . . as soft as rose petals.
She felt a strange feeling come over her as she watched him get up and move around the room, look out his window at a fairly large field, and felt words bubble up her throat.
"What would I give to live where you are?" she whispered, not caring if anyone was behind her. "What would I pay to stay here beside you? What would I do to see you, smiling at me?" He turned suddenly, and he looked like he was looking exactly at her. . . and grinned. She laughed slightly as she ran her fingers through her hair. "Where would we walk? Where would we run if we could stay all day in the sun? Just you and me and I could be. . . part of your world."
"It's done," someone said behind her.
Satine turned suddenly and saw Catherine at the doorway. "Wh-what?"
"It's done," she said again. "You won't remember anything here. . . you're going to be given a new identity. But five minutes before you die, you'll remember it all."
Satine stood and began to walk toward her. "What are you. . ."
Catherine hastily hugged her tightly. "Oh Satine. . . be careful." She kissed her on the cheek and left quickly.
"No, wait. . ." Before Satine could do anything, her wings began to vanish and the clouds under her feet blinded her with a white light and she fell, plunging toward the ground below.
When Satine woke next, she was laying on a cold, hard floor. She rubbed her head as she lifted herself off of the ground.
"Are you all right?" asked a voice.
Satine turned and met the eyes of a man with three shades of red hair and rosy cheeks. He wore a red tailcoat and red knee pants and held a black cane.
"Where. . . where am I?"
"Why. . . we just found you on the floor," he said, putting his hand on her forehead. "Darling, you're here. . . at the Moulin Rouge."
----------------------------------------- Disclaimer: All characters belong to me and my good friend Baz.
A/N: Ok, I had this idea for a while. . . don't know when it came, but I was already committed to another project, so I just started this. I was just hit by inspiration one night and started to write it. . . Hope it turned out ok! And I hope you don't take offence to the way I portrayed the angels and Heaven. And I used a poem by Robert Frost. . . hehe if you thought I wrote it. Thanks a bunch!
Songs used: 'Belle' reprise from Beauty and the Beast, 'Part of your World' from the Little Mermaid(the best Disney movie!!!!) sorry I changed it a bit!, 'Part of your World(reprise) from the LM.