Paris Photographer – Louis Paulin

The red-headed woman scooted down from her tiny top apartment as she stopped for a moment at the bottom, she thought to herself that maybe she should be kinder to that concierge, but she was such an earwigging woman, old, tiny and mostly cross too, as she slipped an envelope under her door which contained her monthly euros, then rushed outside to the small road.

It had been such a scorching summer in Paris, too hot she felt, but now it was early autumn, which is so pleasant, as she strolled through the streets, making her way to the beautiful, but slightly rundown house with very tall walls.

She was always keen to try something new, and this was a new project, she rubbed her hands with glee, as she slipped into the side gate using her special key.

And there they were, her best friends: clever Joan and her husband, Francis, who were very rich, well, they were vampires after all, like The Old One too, who still stays there, although he has a chateau in Orleans, France; then there was the athletic feisty Scatty, who was an immortal from Ireland, and finally, it was Mr Cushing, also an immortal who had been an actor in the past.

The red-headed woman greeted all of them with many little kisses – very French, of course, but where were those two gargoyles?

But there they were, and she almost keeled over with laughter, they were doing some painting in the living room!

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