Chapter 2
I started to type:
Once upon a time there live a beautiful girl named Isabel. She was the daughter of a poor farmer and because of their lack money she often dressed in rags. However, nothing could hide her beauty on the inside and the outside. She was the most beautiful girl of the farm.
There was also a nice, young lad named Robert that lived, not far away, but in a completely different world. He was the rich son of an industrialist. Robert was a dreamer, always losing himself in his own thoughts. It was because of his constant dreaming that his father sent him off to work on a nearby farm for a month. Coincidentally, he was to be working at the farm next to Isabel's father's farm.
Robert got to the farm and immediately began his duties. Having not done any hard labor, or any labor for that matter, he was tired easily, and was getting lost in his dreams even more than before.
I stopped and tore the paper out of my typewriter. "This isn't good writing, this is...this is...this is terrible." My eyes started to water up again. I began to crumple the paper up but then stopped myself. "I guess it isn't that bad," I stated optimistically as I reread what I wrote. "I'll keep it, for now at least, in case nothing better comes along." I laid the paper down and put a fresh piece of paper in the typewriter.
I then sat in front of the typewriter, my hands in place to start typing. I waited, and waited, and waited, but no good ideas were coming to me, everything I thought of was too much like Satine and my story, of our meeting, our love, and her death. "Oh why couldn't I die instead of her, or die with her," I shouted, not caring who heard, "at least then we could be together, somewhere."
I calmed myself down before I could break down again, but the piece of paper was still blank. Nothing was coming to me; I needed to find inspiration. I sighed knowing what I had to do, "I must go to where I first met Satine, I must go to the...Moulin Rouge."
I started to type:
Once upon a time there live a beautiful girl named Isabel. She was the daughter of a poor farmer and because of their lack money she often dressed in rags. However, nothing could hide her beauty on the inside and the outside. She was the most beautiful girl of the farm.
There was also a nice, young lad named Robert that lived, not far away, but in a completely different world. He was the rich son of an industrialist. Robert was a dreamer, always losing himself in his own thoughts. It was because of his constant dreaming that his father sent him off to work on a nearby farm for a month. Coincidentally, he was to be working at the farm next to Isabel's father's farm.
Robert got to the farm and immediately began his duties. Having not done any hard labor, or any labor for that matter, he was tired easily, and was getting lost in his dreams even more than before.
I stopped and tore the paper out of my typewriter. "This isn't good writing, this is...this is...this is terrible." My eyes started to water up again. I began to crumple the paper up but then stopped myself. "I guess it isn't that bad," I stated optimistically as I reread what I wrote. "I'll keep it, for now at least, in case nothing better comes along." I laid the paper down and put a fresh piece of paper in the typewriter.
I then sat in front of the typewriter, my hands in place to start typing. I waited, and waited, and waited, but no good ideas were coming to me, everything I thought of was too much like Satine and my story, of our meeting, our love, and her death. "Oh why couldn't I die instead of her, or die with her," I shouted, not caring who heard, "at least then we could be together, somewhere."
I calmed myself down before I could break down again, but the piece of paper was still blank. Nothing was coming to me; I needed to find inspiration. I sighed knowing what I had to do, "I must go to where I first met Satine, I must go to the...Moulin Rouge."