"Learn To Love Again"
by Dakota Reighn

Chapter 1: A Diamond in the Rough

The church was dimly lit with a few large white candles. The sixteen total pews were filled with the faces of the one-time can-can dancers at the Moulin Rouge. Christians isle seat was a very uncomfortable one at that, and he resented that fact that he had to be there. A soft piano's music drifted from the tiny balcony and each patron waited in agony for the casket to be brought in. As one song came to an end the uneasy to play "March of the Fallen" began to play and the sad and empty faces all rose.

The coffin was beautiful, made of solid ivory engraved with the most beautiful Hindi design. Christian's eyes began to water and weld up as he saw it. The cover was made of glass; Satine's resting body was fully visible to the people she once danced and sang with. Even one of those people she loved. Her skin was so pale and her hands seemed as if they were porcelain. The dress she wore was the most breath-taking gown anyone had ever seen. With a pearly off-white color and full straps made of a silky material. Around her neck, a full pearl necklace with a matching bracelet around her frail wrist.

Satine's hair was left down, waved beautifully and it lay all too perfectly on her petite shoulders. The complexion of her fair ivory skin enhanced the red color applied to her full lips. All-though her eyes were closed the lightest touch of blush was applied to her silky eyelids for a looks as if she were alive.

Onto her casket was a bouquet of twelve large-head roses. The ribbon that held them together was a radiant red with the word "Satine" in golden letters printed onto it. The beauty of Satine and her tomb wasn't enough to bring any happiness to Christian. He had gotten no sleep the past couple nights, for flashes of Satine's dying moments haunted his mind. He hadn't shaved since the opening night of "Spectacular; Spectacular"; the beard he was sporting made him look ten years older and haggard.

A tired-looking priest stepped behind a wooden podium that looked as if it had seen it's fair share of years. His words were slow and soothing to everyone; everyone but Christian. Christian had prepared a speech to give to the other who shared the church floor with him, but all the words he had so carefully thought out had escaped him. The body that rested so peacefully in the ivory casket was so life like. It hurt Christian to see Satine so concealed, so confined. His eyes had long since dried but inside he was dying to burst out into tears. The sound of the other weeping woman weren't enough to drive Christian to sobbing.

As the priest touched base with Satine's final moments Christian's head began to throb with the memory. Satine was on his arm and the two were in celebration of the end of the performance of a lifetime. A small droplet of blood rested on Satine's smooth lips but no one could notice it in time. The sweat beadles were rolling off her forehead, as well as the streams of tears and make-up down her pale cheeks. She hadn't the heart or the time to tell him she was dying, and for a moment she forgot about it herself. Now she could no longer hide from the truth, and the room began to blacken with her worsening condition. Her forehead felt hot as all the strength in her body left her at the snap of a finger.

Christian caught her as they both slumped down to the floor, the streamers and glitter and begun to pile up on top of it. Satine found it hard to breathe and managed to fight on with gasps for air. If only Christian had known the truth was what the last thing to enter Satine's mind. A doctor was called for but only time was what Satine had left and what little time it was. Her eyelids fluttered as she slowly slipped away in his arms; the only words he could make out were the low gurgles that came from Satine's throat.

"Tell our story Christian; that way I'll always be with you." Were the last words of a dying can-can dancer at a little show called the Moulin Rouge. Her entire body became limp as her precious life slipped from Satine's grip. Christian took a few sentimental moments to soak in the sad reality that his lover was dead. The hot tears began to stream down his face as he could no longer hold back. Christians cry could be heard throughout the backstage, but the clapping audience had no idea of the events that just took place. The doctor had just arrived on the scene minutes after Satine had fallen. He tried to pry Christian from the grasp he had around Satine's body; it took several minutes and several men to separate the departed soul from her lover.

As the priest called his name, Christian instantly snapped back to reality. All eyes were fixed on him and him alone. Christian slowly rose making his way over to the podium where the priest had just stationed himself. Christian placed two unsure hands on the podium top and glanced around at the many sets of eyes staring back at him. He felt the lump in his throat building up, as if it was enabling him to speak. He took in a deep breath and opened his mouth to speak.

"Satine was the most beautiful woman anyone will ever know. She was stolen from us just at the prime of her life and talent. However, her talent may have added to her shortened time here with us. I loved Satine more than anyone in this world." Christian's eyes were beginning to weld up again. He turned his head to the side, getting a glimpse of Satine. Closing his eyes he turned his head back and faced the crowd. The hardest this wasn't looking at Satine's resting body, but holding back the tears from the crowd infront of him.

"Satine loved everyone who she knew. She sacrificed herself numerous times for the well being of others. Word's can express the kind of person Satine was and words can't express what she means to everyone." Christian took another deep breath in before saying the last thing that came to his mind, the most important thing he had to say about Satine.

"Satine asked me to tell our story. From the moment I met her I knew I would be a story worth reliving; I never imagined it would come down to the ending it did. No matter how long it takes me, I'll get our story down to every last detail on how many ever blank pieces of paper I can find." Everyone nodded his or her head as Christian stepped down from the podium and slipped into his seat. A small group of the chorus-line from "Spectacular; Spectacular" stood up to sing the song Christian wrote in Satine's memory.

"Our paths they did cross

Though I can not say just why
We met
We laughed

We held on fast

And then we said goodbye
Who'll hear the echoes of stories never told
Let them ring out loud
'Til they unfold"

"A voice from the past
Joining yours and mine
Adding up the layers of harmony
And so it goes on and on
Melodies of life
To the sky beyond the flying birds
Forever and beyond"

"I see you reaching out to me
Though you're gone
I still believe that you can call
Out my name"

"A voice from the past
Joining yours and mine

Adding up the layers of harmony

And so it goes on and on
Melodies of life
To the sky beyond the flying birds
Forever and beyond"

"Alone for awhile
I've been searching through the dark
For traces of the love you left
Inside my lonely heart
To weave by picking up the pieces that remain
In my dearest memory
Do you remember loving me?"

"A voice from the past
Joining yours and mine
Adding up the layers of harmony
And so it goes on and on
Melodies of life
Come circle round and
Grow deep in our hearts

As long as we remember"

Christian lay his head in his hands, unable to stop the tears from pouring from his eyes. His eyes throbbed from crying; it was all he had done since Satine had parted into the other world. The priest retook his place at the podium and began to recite a beautiful sermon. Christian's hands were wet with tears; he could no longer control his sobbing. As the crowd stood to canter a beautiful melody arranged by Christian, he sat in his pew as the salty drops filled his hands and cheeks.

Before the sun dropped below the beautiful french horizon, Satine's funeral procession moved into the graveyard where Satine's body would be laid to rest in the fertile french soil. Her gravestone was carved from granite with her name etched in cursive letters. Her date of birth and death were the only other attributes on the gray marker. Christian, who had re-gained his composer, and Satine's closest friends stood next to her casket as it was lowered into the ground.