We all know she shines, but there really isn't an end without a beginning. A story of love, a story of sadness. "A story," according to Montmartre. Chapter 1 begins now…
Disclaimer: All things Moulin Rouge by Baz and all its other owners, not me.
A/N: I haven't written for at least a year, but that's only because my computer crashed and so have my words. And with a new fic comes a new name; I used to be Parisia Starr.
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A Bohemian Affair
Chapter 1: Rise and Shine
By: Kat (Crystal shatters)
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Below every curtain lies a star that shines as bright as the sky
Behind ever mask lies a broken girl just trying to find her way
Beside every patron lies the prized possession who cries
Beneath the lipstick lie words that long to be heard
Between the eyes lie secrets that hope for some escape
Behold the beginning, a story without any end
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She knew she was different, much different from the whores at the end of the street, next to that flashy whore-house; The Moulin Rouge. But in her deepest thoughts, she almost wanted to be one of them, just to feel part of something, befriended by another girl. To wear make up, to have the breasts and companionship. But to do that was the same as being one of the Devil's own…
"Satine, when are you coming home?" said an old cripple of a woman, who happened to be standing only slightly taller than the business counter.
"I promise I'll close up soon, Aunt Mae, its only sunset." Satine delicately handed her the packaged bread over the counter in which she knew would be used for dinner that night.
"Well then, I hope you don't leave me too lonely before nightfall." And with that, the old woman limped away with the slight tap of her cane on the freshly-cleaned floor. Satine smiled, only to continue stacking the shelves with freshly unboxed goods.
She was sweet sixteen and had never had the luxury of having a parent or being taught to read and write in a classroom. Instead, she replaced the 'parent' roll with her beloved Aunt Mae-- who was twice the age of Satine's birth mother, Samara, and not even half as beautiful. Having not been blessed with beauty, Mae took it well growing up, supporting Samara's glamoured, pampered life as Paris's most famous performer, as well as taking over her motherly position after Samara's tragic, tubercular 12 years ago. The death was never to be talked about by Satine, who lived through her mother's death over and over in even the most peaceful of nights' rest.
As for the reading and writing that Satine eventually learned, Aunt Mae hadn't known how to do it herself, regretfully, but the very smart Mr. Wesley was a retired professor / writer of both English and French. It was Mr. Wesley who taught her writing and English since the age of 4. Twelve years later, Satine had come to seem as the most highly educated girl in all of Montmartre, nearly every whore and dancer envied her brains and inherited natural beauty. But Satine was oblivious to all of this, as she feared the crude comments made to her on her way home from working at Mr. Wesley's accomplished little grocery store.
It was those comments made by the whores that made Satine feel unbeautiful and bad about herself. Of course, she got smiles from every man that walked in, especially the seemingly and more common drunken ones with no money, yet wanting some bread or buns to live off of. As a good worker, Satine tried not to give in, but out of her naturally sweet disposition, she couldn't help but slip a slice of bread to a drunken beggar. This population made up at least half of the tiny ville of Montmartre anyway. This was also the population that complimented on her beauty the most. For that, she believed that they were just too drunk to see the difference between a real pretty girl and, well…herself. And upon working, she was still too poor to own something as lavish or as nice as a mirror that reflected regularly. Satine had always used glass at home where her looks were nothing but the brightest of red hair (making her feel like a jester) and the snow-white skin that reddened almost to the shade of her hair upon nervousness or embarrassment. In her lonely mind, she was in fact the lonely jester, lanky, small-breasted and completely un-pretty.
"Satine," called Mr. Wesley from the back. "You can stop your unpacking now; I'll finish up tomorrow morning. It looks like that was the last of our customers for the day anyway. See you tomorrow."
"Thank you, Mr. Wesley." Satine gave the store a last look for tidying as she pushed open the door and remembered Aunt Mae's request to ask Mr. Wesley to dinner at their shabby place. "Oh, and Mr. Wesley?"
There was a muffled 'yes' from the back.
"Would you like to come to dinner tonight?"
Mr. Wesley emerged from the back, wiping the dirt off his hands. His white hair was shading some wrinkled features. "Why, that would be lovely, Miss Satine. Is Mae still up to cooking?"
"Yes, she is, but I fear it will be only me soon." Satine tried not to sigh to herself; once again realizing just how bad Mae's getting around was coming to be, and most of all; trying to accept it.
His eyes lowered as he nodded. "I'm sorry, Satine."
She covered her fears as she half-smiled. "Thank you, Mr. Wesley. I'll see you soon."
Walking home had become nice that evening. The sun continued to fade in front of her eyes, and the whores surprisingly weren't out to badger her. In fact, none of the Bohemians where out, though she could hear the singing and laughter from the bars and rundown homes. She could also hear the birds and the soft words of the man singing from the windowsill at the corner house. This time, she actually stopped to listen to his tune (since she didn't have to pay attention to daily whore-tease), her eyes not looking up, but straight ahead as the words seemed to lift her to some place higher than earth...
I have seen tears
In my mother's eyes
And I have felt anger
In the working pace of my father's stride
I don't know why
But all I feel is love inside
All I feel is love inside
Satine felt a tear stream down a pale cheek, remembering her 'family,' as a few strands of bright hair by sunlight blew to the front, shielding her pain-struck eyes.
So rise, rise and shine my baby
Tomorrow's here
Won't you rise
Rise and shine for me
Wipe away those tears and rise
Rise and shine
Shine for me
She looked up at the man, who was seemingly relaxed in his window, singing solemnly to the skies, eyes closed, bottle of alcohol in hand… She felt the soft whisk of wind, as if it were her mother singing those words, her father humming along with them…If the world is broken,
It's just 'cause hearts get broken,
Sticks and stones have broken my bones
But words hurt even more
I wonder what for
All I feel is love inside
And all I feel is love inside
So rise, rise and shine my baby
Tomorrow's here
Won't you rise, rise and shine for me
Wipe away those tears and rise
Rise and shine
Shine for me
My baby, my baby, my baby
Wont you rise and shine?
The words "My baby" penetrated into her thoughts as she remembered her mother calling her. "My baby" in every possible memory…
My baby, my baby
Won't you rise and shine?
My baby, my baby, my baby
Won't you rise and shine?
My baby…
If it weren't for the soft winds wrapping around her, she would've collapsed into a baby's sleep over those lullaby-charmed words almost mistakenly taken from her own mother's…
Rise…
Satine suddenly noticed everything around her once again. The skies, the clouds, the birds and the crickets, the drunken men that began stumbling from bar doors and the singing man in the window had just fallen into a delightful sleep with the help of his trusty alcohol. She allowed her eyes to scan the sky one last time for something that would indicate her mothers' presence, but there was no such thing as smoke began pouring from the chimneys, clouding the reddened-orange tint. She put her head down and began passing quickly through the small streets, soon finding herself home with the smiling Aunt Mae.
Dinner passed slowly as it was mostly spent between Mr. Wesley and Aunt Mae discussing the neighborhood. And after dinner, night passed, and then nights passed, then weeks as Aunt Mae told Satine daily that she should go make something of her brains and beauty. Satine would only laugh it off and try learning to accept that the only living piece of her mother was dying. And like so, by the night before Satine's 17th birthday, Aunt Mae passed away.
The burial was small and impromptu due to lack of money, and to be honest, a Montmartre funeral never truly was anything more spectacular than a few sad friendly faces, a bouquet of flowers, and considering the person, there might even be music played by one of Montmartre's many skillful drunken musicians.
For pity over the lonely Satine, the drunkards played a soft medley of music as she cried miserably into Mr. Wesley's comforting shoulder. She whispered "You're all I have, Mr. Wesley."
"Satine, you've done all you could do, and that's all you've ever done. Your Aunt Mae wouldn't have lived as long as she did without your company. She wants you to live your life now, dear. She wants you to truly live." He kissed her forehead like a father would do after wiping her cheeks of the tears that flowed through.
That night, the Bohemians came to Mr. Wesley's door, where Satine was staying, and even brought a cake to cheer her up on her birthday. Along with the Bohemians came a girl about Satine's age, not particularly pretty, but done up in powdered makeup with the whore-like corset outfit and heels. After the small celebration, Satine thanked the Bohemians one-by-one for their generosity, and then almost cringed before she got to the made-up whore. She expected a few snide remarks and jokes about her her. The girl let out a puff of cigarette as she spoke "Oh don't worry, I'm not going to be a bother to you." She let out a slight chuckle afterwards until she saw the seriousness that remained on Satine's face. "Oh common dahlin,' I'm here to make a friend with ya." She tossed her cigarette out the window and lit another. Satine remained speechless as the words she tried to form didn't form and ultimately, nothing came from her lips. "Your name's Satine, right?"
After a struggle to find the answer to a simple question, she mustered up the courage for a quiet "Yes,"
"Pretty name for such a pretty girl…" She paused before letting out a hand. "I'm Nini Legs-in-the-air." Satine couldn't help but glance down a fishnet-covered leg. "Latest edition to the Moulin Rouge… I just wanted you to know that the other girls and I are sorry about your aunt and you're welcome to come be one of us."
While shaking Nini's hand, Satine was almost offended, and definitely more confident than before. "Um, I still work at Mr. Wesley's store. And it's really nice but you don't have to pity me-"
"I didn't pity you. We knew that your aunt wouldn't approve of us, so I thought now would be the right time to ask you." She muttered, and then nodded at her choice of words for the matter.
Satine looked about herself, speechless.
"I didn't make it sound like you needed to. I just meant that it would be fun. You must admit that you've been working every day of your life since you were ten. And for what? For food and a place to live. Alright, that's alright. But at the Moulin Rouge, we give you all of that. Nightly fun. Companionship by day. Us dancers are partners. You belong with us if you're going to stay in Montmartre for the rest of your life. You're gorgeous." She tossed out her second cigarette.
"Look, hunnybuns, I'm just suggesting, I ain't no auntie of yours. You don't have to listen to anyone. But if you change your mind and decide to come with me, you'll have yourself a good time. The girls would like you if they knew you." Nini gave Satine a smirk and a raised eyebrow, then twisted out the door, swinging her arms as she moved her hips in her flailing walk. She waved and laughed at the men who whistled in the streets.
That night, Satine thought as she lay by the window in Mr. Wesley's home. "What if I could be like that? What if I were one of them? I'd be dancing to that music right now. I'm a good dancer and I learn easily. And under all of those lights, just like mother."
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A/N: Credits
Poem / prose beginning by me (Crystal shatters)
"Rise Shine" by Poe and Gwen Stefani
I'm sorry if I've abandoned my last MR fic. I have plans to continue after I muster up some sort of energy to rewrite following chapters that got deleted (Oh, the horror). Otherwise, chapter 2 of this fic is already in pre-production. I enjoy comments & constructive criticism if you're willing to give it. –Kat =)