A/N: This is my first Moulin Rouge fanfic, and it’s actually my first fanfic ever, so I hope you enjoy it! Takes place in modern times, and I try to stick with the original words as much as possible. I do not own Moulin Rouge.

Ch. 1

Christian

I sit at my computer, watching the screen flicker in the darkened apartment. All signs of happiness or cleanliness have disappeared from my room, with food debris littering all of the surfaces. The last of the food had been raided out of my pantry, and pizza boxes layer the floor like an extra carpet. I don’t notice it. All I can think about is a single sentence in my head, a voice that makes my heart skip a beat and at the same time stab pins of sorrow through it.

Write a story, Christian…

I shudder at the memory. My love, my only love, is… dead.

I sit down to the computer, brushing the keys with my fingertips, and begin to write from the very beginning of my story.

It was a year ago when I first came to California, a fresh screenwriter ready for adventure. I knew nothing of my love at that time. I was young and new, not yet worn down from constant critics, and I wanted, more than anything, to get my idea across to the public, of truth, beauty, freedom, and, above all other things, love. The very idea sent shivers down my spine, for on screen, anything could happen. Through the effects of movies, an entire audience could fall into the arms of the cast, believing every word they utter from their perfect lips. I wanted that, whatever my old-fashioned father said to me. He could not alter my college degree in screenwriting, or my decision to move to where it all happened, Hollywood. I was ready. Or so I thought.

The only problem was, when I sat down at my computer and was ready to type, I had no inspiration. I had never been in love!

Luckily for me, just at that moment, an unconscious Darwinian fell through the roof of my apartment, followed closely by a dwarf dressed as a ballet dancer. If you couldn’t guess, I was very shocked at this new turn of events.

Luckily, I didn’t need to speak, as the dwarf was already explaining flamboyantly what had happened.

“Oh, I’m so terribly sorry, sir! You see, we are practicing a part for a new adaptation to a movie, and our Darwinian friend seems to have fainted again. Not to worry, not to worry, he is all right.” The dwarf then leapt up and began slapping the Darwinian, trying to get him up. “You see, he suffers from narcolepsy. Silly thing, once he falls asleep, he can’t wake up.” Slapping the Darwinian one last time, he stepped off of him, shaking his head. I stared at him dumbfounded, making sure not to look at his lower half with his tight tutu.

As I looked up at the huge hole in the ceiling, three heads popped through to peek at the Darwinian with slightly peeved looks on their faces. Each of them wore eccentric clothes or hats, and I realized immediately that they must be writers of a kind as well.

“How is he?” A flamboyant gay man twittered to the dwarf, paying no attention to me even though I was close to the hole. He was wearing a hilarious cap with a feather stuck artistically in the rim, a bright pink shirt under a striped vest with a satin kerchief falling out of the ruffles at his neck.

“He’s out for the count, I’m afraid.” The two writers were having a conversation through the hole in the ceiling, as if this was completely normal. I was dumbfounded, trying to find any logic in this situation.

“Oh, how horrible!” The gay man, who I soon learned to be called Arthur, nicknamed Audrey, said in anguish, wringing his hands. “The main idea for the movie is due tomorrow, and yet we don’t even have someone to practice the part of a devilishly handsome yet sad and unwanted phantom! Oh, how will we ever find someone on such short notice?”

Suddenly, all of the heads turned to me, while I was staring around at all of the events quickly unfurling in front of me. Before I knew it, I was up in the room above me, standing on a ladder with a background of a gloomy dungeon, a fake candelabra winking on and off while the techie worked with it. I had on a cheap black cape and a white clothy mask covering half of my face, and the dwarf was singing next to me.

“Help me make the music of the damp cold basement… No, what about, help me make some sounds that are quite frightening…”

“No no no! You are ruining my perfect lyrics with your ‘orrible screeching!” Audrey screamed at the dwarf, who was trying to unsuccessfully make out the intentions of the song.

“Well, what about-“ I tried to put in a suggestion, holding up a hand, but no one was listening. Every time I started they would keep talking.

“Um-“

“What about-“

“How do you like-“

No one was paying attention, the dwarf and Audrey still yelling at each other (“Help me make brownies!” “No, that’s awful, completely dreadful!”) The mechanic trying unsuccessfully to get the lighting up, and the musician holding his hands to his ears at the awful yelling. So I just let it out.

“Help me make the music of the night…” My voice was loud and deep, and hearty tones from a string orchestra sung from nowhere. Everyone looked up at me in shock, the musician pulling his hands away from his head slowly. I took this as a good sign and decided to go on.

“Softly, deftly, music shall caress you… Hear it, feel it, secretly possess you…” Again, the music resonated from nowhere, and I let my voice trail off at the end, waiting for everyone’s response.

It was immediate. The dwarf cried out, “Brava!” throwing his arms in the air. Audrey looked sulky, his lower lip out and pouting. The musician was cooing over the velvet tunes still lingering in the air. I was shocked at what I had just done. I had never really enjoyed singing before, but that might just be that I had nothing good to sing about.

“That was beautiful! Audrey, how about if you and…”

“Christian.”

“You and Christian write the songs together? He sure has talent, and it could only make the show better!”

“Write the songs together?” Audrey was looking at us all in horror, as if we had just told him to cut off his own limb. “I’d rather die!” And with that, he ran out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

“Ah, don’t mind him, Christian. I’ll bet you’ll do fine all on your own.”

“But…” I looked at the dwarf in shock. “But I’ve never written a movie like this before!”

“But you are a writer, no?”

“Yes…”

“And you believe in freedom?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Beauty?”

“Yes…”

“Truth?”

“Yes!”

“Love?”

“Love?...” I looked at them all in the face. “Above all things I believe in love.” I went on earnestly, “Love is like oxygen. Love is a many-splendored thing. Love lifts you up where you belong, all you need is love!”

“Oh, I just love it!” The dwarf began dancing around the room, throwing his hands in the air. “That is the most beautiful thing I have ever heard! You will make a great writer!”

“But what about Audrey?” The musician spoke up for the first time. “Isn’t he the writer that we signed up for writing the script with?”

“Oh yes….” The dwarf had to think about that for a moment, and then a light bulb went off in his head. “Ah ha! I’ve got a marvelous plan!” And with that, we all huddled together, me still in shock.

The dwarf’s plan was that we would dress me up in nice clothes and send me off to a fancy nightclub/bar called the Moulin Rouge where all of the rich and talented men would come to dance and socialize. I would pretend to be a famous English writer, and talk to Satine, a movie star that the group had set up to be part of our movie. I would give her a poetry reading that would amaze her completely. If we got her on our side, than the whole company would have to go along, too, forgetting all about Audrey and letting me write the screenplay.

The plan seemed simple enough, but I couldn’t help but become frightened as I put on their best clothes and got into the taxi with the rest of the group, making my way to my first adventure. If only I had known then what was awaiting, but even if I had, I wouldn’t know what to do with the news. Even now I don’t know if I would have rather lived my life for those next precious months or gone on without it, never knowing the sadness that now envelopes my heart.

I stop typing, to hold my head in my hands and stop my tears from overflowing my lids. Every perfect memory of her flows back to me in clarity, stabbing me and leaving me raw, open. But I must go on, if only for her.

End of Chapter 1