Above the Underworld
© 2002 Black Tangled Heart
She had shed the shell of being the dirty Moulin Rouge's first and most
beautiful courtesan, only to become a fresh, glimmering fairy. She tantalized
men just the same, teasing them as they choked back swigs of sickeningly sweet
acid.
She pranced about daintily upon her cloud of shimmering dust, and sang in a
high, pretty voice that drew the rapture of men after a mere swallow of the
alcohol. She was comfort to many a man, but her perfumed haze of sparkles and
cynical smile only masked her inner pain and ugly past.
She would appear magickally in front of intoxicated
businessmen, and enchant them until she saw fit. She prided herself in being
sneaky and lusted after. She was a fairy, after all.
She had once been known as the Mystical Goddess; the shining, premiere
courtesan of
She was a creature of the night, fated to become the one that sneered upon
those who dared to sip shiny, fire-laced liquid from an Absinthe bottle, as
they danced the night away with a guilt-filled, dolled up whore, like she once
was.
She could remember the pinch of constricting corsets as though they were still
bound around her small body; and the way she would struggle to suck in air as
she whirled about, doing the can-can. The swish of her pastel skirts would hide
the unshed tears in her eyes.
Her hair, once a shiny brown, had been tinted the colour
of fire; resulting from her rage at those who stepped into the web of mystery
that oozed from the Moulin's giant red windmill and blinding array of
split-knickers and glittering jewels.
Her piercing green-hazel eyes matched the colour of
the toxic fluid, and she caused it to bubble in the empty stomachs of
impatient, wealthy men and soiled, poor writers alike.
She would often hover lazily above the filthy palace that Zidler owned, happy
that she was no longer a love slave, for she had escaped.
Death was the price, but now she was nobody's play toy. She wasn't chained to
her job as the first whore Zidler had employed. Now a fairy with a purpose, her
sins had been wiped clean and her dreams unfurled themselves like wings of
silver satin, and let her take flight through a misty, star-studded sky.
Tonight, the Moulin Rouge was blanketed by the same extravagant brightness,
which lit up the black clouds in the heavens, and shouts of happiness could be
heard from within as the band played a lively tune.
She scowled bitterly, waiting for someone to pour the wonder that was Absinthe
down their already raw throat.
When they Moulin Rouge had first opened, she had wallowed like a pig taking a
mud bath at the glory of being a star. This sure beat life on a farm. Zidler
was her father's cousin, and had seen the talent that the young woman
possessed, and immediately set out to make her famous.
She was pampered with hot baths, covered in fine silk, and drowned in perfume.
Men wanted her, throwing strands of jewels and piles of francs at her feet.
Women wanted to be her, copying the crown of intricate curls that was always
fastened to her scalp, and wearing the same lustrous red lipstick that was
smeared, creamy and sexual, across her mouth. She was the most gorgeous
creature anyone had ever laid eyes on.
Oh, if anyone knew what torture it was to be a courtesan. It was thrilling at
the start, but having to sell herself was the worst thing in the world. She
would fight back tears as she forced herself to kiss and seduce rich men. She
was the first, and certainly not the last courtesan to discover the solace of
talking to her reflection. It helped her through the grueling days and lonely
nights.
To Zilder's horror, and the young woman's relief; it
was all over when she was paid to spend a night with oily haired, blue eyed
Vincent Detton, the man who had caused her ribcage to
shatter and her heart to sputter and eventually beat for a final time. Her soul
released, her spirit became light, sweet and the embodiment of a beautiful,
mythical creature.
Being a wicked fairy suited her personality much better. She was now sarcastic,
joyous and free as a bird.
She knew the secrets of that club. She was aware of all the sludge and schemes
that lay seeping through the cracks; it couldn't be covered up by swirls of colour and loud music for much longer.
Her name had been Emerald to the crowd, but her birth name was Jess, and many
tongues still uttered the haunting word behind the closed doors of the towering
building. She now flew high above the grime and lies. She was free; she was
better than any of them.
There! She could see into a slightly steam covered window, a young man reach
for the bottle. Jess could see his thick, sandy hair and smooth, tanned skin.
Taunting the ravishingly handsome men was always the most fun!
She held her breath, and as he drained the first shot of overpowering venom,
Jess appeared with a burst of gold dust in front of his eyes. She would seduce
the man, and then dissolve from his view; just like that drunken man had done
on the night she died. She would crush his hopes to smithereens, just like her
fragile bones had once been smashed, and take pleasure in it.
"I'm the Green Fairy!" she giggled. "Let me entertain you!"
Her hair was a wild halo of silk, and her dress shone with bright gems. Her
voice was airy and whimsical. She tapped the young man on the nose and began to
dance before his twinkling eyes. A broad smile broke out across his face as she
flitted about, singing along with the overflowing, sweat-drenched courtesan
onstage.
"I've been a bad, bad girl," the Fairy sang, covering her cherry
mouth with an ivory hand. "I've been careless with a delicate man."
She swiveled her hips for the overjoyed man who was swallowing the pure ecstasy
of Absinthe a little too quickly.
"And it's a sad, sad world," she told him with mock misery.
"When a girl will break a boy, just because she can," she chuckled,
and skipped over the parts of the song that didn't compliment her personality.
While this was going on, she flounced about and shook her hair out, being lazy
and sexy. She joined in singing again after the chorus of the song.
"Heaven help me for the way I am," she sighed dramatically.
"Save me from these evil deeds before I get them done. I know tomorrow
brings the consequence at hand; but I keep living this day like the next will
never come." She smiled, and vanished from sight with a puff of green,
perfumed dust.
She returned to her silvery cloud, and sprawled lazily over it, watching the
pack of drunken men and tired whores kick up their heels. She nestled her cheek
against a cottony puff and closed her eyes, content.
She knew she would have to return to the place of sin later that night, but for
now, she'd had her fun. This was the way she wanted to live, and so be it.
Song used:
“Criminal” Fiona Apple