A.N. First of all, thanks to everyone who reviewed "Falling". Also, thanks for being patient with me while I got this new story up and running. My life's been crazy for the past few weeks and I didn't have time to get this idea off the ground. Anyway, this is a sequel to "After the Show", so if you haven't read that yet some of this might be confusing. This story takes place 8 years after the end of "After the Show",
Satine and Cassandra looked around the dark, dusty attic. "Those winter clothes must be up here somewhereÉ" Satine said to herself. As she thought about where the missing articles of clothing might be, Cassandra decided to do some searching of her own. However, the methods of the twelve-year-old differed from her mother's. Cassandra simply began opening every box and trunk she came across. Had this been five or six years earlier, she would have opened up one box and been enthralled with what was inside. However, Cassandra noticed that, for some reason, the objects in the boxes and trunks didn't seem like such treasures anymore. She had seen them all before, and she now knew the real purpose of almost everything as opposed to her young imagination inventing some new use for an object. "I guess that's just part of growing up." Cassandra thought to herself. A bit saddened by this realization, she continued to walk around the attic looking for the winter clothes. As she reached a particularly dusty corner, she saw something out of the corner of her eye that caught her attention. Pushed against the far wall was a bright red trunk.
Cassandra was certain that she had never seen nor opened this trunk before. She did not recall ever exploring a red trunk. "How did I ever miss this one?" she thought to herself. As a young child red had been her favorite color (her mother's hair might have had something to do with that) and she was instantly attracted to anything with the slightest bit of red in it. Cassandra felt her childlike curiosity returning and knelt down to open the trunk. Inside, she discovered several articles of clothing, thought she doubted they were the ones her mother was on the other side of the attic looking for. The clothes were very bright, and decorated with everything that could possibly be used to decorate clothing. Well, not everything was that decorated. There was a very simple, but very beautiful, red dress on top of the pile.
"Mom, where did we get this stuff?" Cassandra called across the attic. Satine, still searching for the winter clothes, looked up to see where her daughter was.
"Honestly, Cassandra, you've seen everything up here already. You know where everything came fromÉ" Satine's voice trailed off as she saw the contents of the trunk her daughter was looking through. She knelt down next to Cassandra and fingered the red dress. "These are my old costumes from the Moulin Rouge, dear" she said, hoping that would be enough of an answer.
Luckily for her, Cassandra did not ask any more questions. She remembered the bedtime story she had heard again and again as a younger child; the story of her parent's meeting. Her mother had been a dancer, so she had been told, at the Moulin Rouge. Something inside her, though, was beginning to think that there might have been more to this story.
Later that night, after the winter clothes had been found and Cassandra thought her parents were fast asleep, she sat staring out her bedroom window. Something was eating at her. Her mother had been out of sorts the rest of that day, no doubt a result of seeing the clothes in the trunk. Why? The story that Cassandra had heard every night depicted her mother's life at the Moulin Rouge to be very happy, except for the mean man who tried to hurt her. But even on that one occasion, her father had taken her out of harm's way, hadn't he? Cassandra got up and walked over to her dresser. She reached up until she could grab the red windmill that had sat there since her birth. It was the one material clue that she had to her family's past. Sure, she knew that her father's family was wealthy and that he left them to become a writer and all of that. But she knew nothing of her mother's story. Why did she become a dancer? Why did that man try to hurt her? What really went on at the Moulin Rouge?
A.N. Well, how is it so far? I know there wasn't a lot of Christian/Satine stuff in this chapter, but don't worry. It's coming. Please review, and I'll try my hardest to get the next chapter up soon!