I’ve always liked graves. Admittedly I’d only go in the daytime. But I’d be there from morning to evening, since I was a writer and it was such a peaceful place.
I’d write small stories, but they would be fun (mostly), while using my notebook and a couple of pencils. Nothing fancy like a laptop – not invented then.
But then I found that the darkness was even better. I’d fallen asleep and something had changed. After that it seemed that something else was required. But never mind about that.
Just have a look – my little fangs are so pretty!
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Thanks to Rochelle for hostingFriday Fictioneers Genre: Historical Fiction Word Count: 100
The red-headed writer (aka la Raconteuse) grinned a huge grin, as she looked up to see the Gatekeeper who had just arrived at the Six-Sentence-Café-and-Bistro; several other people looked as well, as he stopped at the second step down, and surveyed the room.
La Raconteuse looked the other way for a moment, as the Bartender gave a nod and a wink on the other side of the bar to the Gatekeeper: destiny was back, and the red-headed writer was more than pleased about that.
She hopped down from the stool as she turned around to see the Gatekeeper as he began to walk along the long bar – ‘gosh, you’re even smaller than I remember,’ he said – while she grinned – ‘just flat shoes for me now.’
Despite so many things had changed – and of course it had been several years from the start, but at least the main Proprietors were still in the heart of the Six-Sentence-Café-and-Bistro, although there were more exotic, devious and more besides too, who hang out there now, but the red-headed writer wasn’t worried.
The tall, thin man turned from the small group in the corner, as he strode to meet the Gatekeeper in the middle of the bar, right by the Bartender; in less than a minute, she’d served the finest malt whisky and two chunky glasses plus some ice – ‘let’s go through to the Manager’s office.’
La Raconteuse glanced out to see how dismal the weather was, as she sat down into her usual booth.
Earlier she had been far too busy to do anything but eat and drink, since she’d had a very late breakfast (or brunch); she had been umming and arring about the menu for ages, as Tom was on leave, and Mimi was not here either. In the end she plumped for a couple of small pancakes with bacon and syrup (very proper for those American people, as she grinned), and in the meantime she munched some toast with butter and jam, or was it marmalade she wondered for a moment, but anyway everything was delicious, and she drank two coffees as well.
She went back to her usual booth where she opened her laptop, she was so happy that it had been fixed by this clever guy, since it took more than three days to work properly again. Without her laptop she had to write things down using paper and pen or pencil, and now she had so many notes and scribbles in her little notebook – what a mess! – but at least now she could continue to write on that laptop.
She had been working for more than an hour, but then she walked over to the bar, she smiled and waved to her great friend, the Bartender, while the tall, thin mangestured to the small group in the corner, and now, of course, she would be earwigging again.
‘Okay, the final race for the Tour de France this year, it has been excellent so far, don’t you think?’ smiled Francis, as he inverted the first bottle of champagne, while Joan and Scatty sip some, as they all watched the large television.
‘It’s such a wonderful place in the heart of Paris, all those lovely buildings and statues, meanwhile the cyclists will cycle around the Champs-Elysees (four times as usual), but this time it will be longer since it’s going up to the top of the Butte Montmartre,’ said Francis.
‘Gosh, right by us,’ said Scatty, ‘you know, I’m going to go out there, just now; I can get a little patch of grass near the Basilica of the Sacre-Coeur, and that will be perfect,’ as she grabbed her coat, then she reversed for a moment to say, ‘I will have a great position there, I’m sure!’
‘Well, I think this is much cosier, and there’s only the two of us,’ said Joan – ‘yes, I think so too,’ said Francis, as he put his arm over her shoulder.
‘Ah ha, here it is,’ said Joan, ‘such a beautiful sculpture for the horse, and it looks very like me where I’m sitting proudly up on the Place des Pyramides – oh yes, valour… that was me at the time, wasn’t it,’ as she grinned, – while Francis gave her a big kiss.
But what happened to the two gargoyles… and where’s that red-headed woman? – well, we guess it’ll be next time!
‘Gosh, this will be fun,’ grinned one of the boys. ‘Yes, we’re all going on an adventure.’ ‘We have got everything we need,’ smiled Great Aunt Margot. ‘Now get into the back of my 2CV boys, we are going to the woods, since it’s autumn so we can get some mushrooms, and maybe some truffles.’ ‘Truffles? What are those?’ Great Aunt Margot waved a hand as she continued to drive, and rather fast, ‘truffles are very good and very expensive, but we will see.’
The three of them tootled around in that little car for a bit, when suddenly Great Aunt Margot stopped, and then reversed, and stopped again. ‘Look boys, there’s eggs available. You can get out and ask,’ as she gave one of them some notes.
The two boys trotted over to the sign, and then into the little farm. ‘Is anyone here?’ shouted both of them. For a moment it seemed that no-one was around, but just a little later, a very nice lady appeared. ‘Ah, that would be Madame Margot,’ the nice lady said. ‘Two dozen, I imagine,’ as she waved back.
Soon that was sorted, they were off again. ‘Time to find some mushrooms and do some truffle hunting,’ grinned Great Aunt Margot.
They walked around the woods, and all three of them had lovely mushrooms, although sadly they didn’t find any truffles this time. But they did see something in the distance… Yes, that’s right, a couple of unicorns – and yes, they are real.
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Posted for The Unicorn Challenge, a magical challenge hosted by Jenne Gray and C E Ayr, where they provide a photo and we, in turn, provide up to 250 words.
The two gargoyles were talking in hushed tones as they made over to the aerodrome: ‘Come on we are not mad, we are good at everything, aren’t we,’ said one – while the other one said, ‘quite so, we both remember that huge balloon, and that was fine,’ – as the two of them got into a helicopter.
Scatty and Joan had been still looking for the two gargoyles, not realising that they were up in the sky; they’d been on that big motorcycle for ages weaving around from left to right and back again on the Tour de France.
‘Hold on,’ yelled Scatty, ‘this is a big challenge,’ – but meanwhile Joan yelled back, ‘I am feeling nauseous and I have a headache, although at least I haven’t a malady and I’m sure I’ll be fine when we stop.’
The red-headed woman was on another road listening to many lovely melodies as she hummed in her little red car, it was very much quicker since this was one of the main motorways, and she was going to the south of France having found that The Old One and Mr Cushing had been staying near Cannes.
Francis was still at home and lounging around while watching the Tour de France; he had double-checked the time for the final race, and as usual it was at Paris, on the Champs-Elysees on Sunday.
He smiled as he continued to watch; whoever would win, he would make sure there would be plenty of champagne on ice.
The two boys were back in France, in a small town where Great Aunt Margot lives. ‘What’s the time?’ said one of them, as they both looked up to the big clock outside in the main square. ‘Okay, one more time to walk quickly around the great church – why not?’ ‘Shall we do it?’ ‘Yes, let’s go.’
Meanwhile, Great Aunt Margot had bought her usual things in the market: a long baguette, some very oozy cheeses and three little patisserie cakes, which she put in her big basket. She then stopped next to the new gallery. ‘How is it going, my dear?’ said Great Aunt Margot. A young woman smiled. ‘Anything you would like?’ ‘Hmm, something small perhaps,’ as she stepped into the shop.
A couple of minutes later the two boys appeared. ‘What have you got?’ asked one of the boys. ‘Never mind about that, I will show you that back at home. But any way it’s almost lunchtime,’ as she grinned.
The three of them chatted happily, as they walked down to where they stayed, but no one would be able to find what they did after that.
And also in the small town, not far from the woods, you might still see a few unicorns, and their names are: Victor, Wellington, Xena, Yasmine and Zacharia.
So thanks for that Jenne and C .E. Aye, we’ve had a great time, and maybe we will see you around sometime.
So now I must find a new tale, but where?
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Posted for The Unicorn Challenge, a magical challenge hosted by Jenne Gray and C E Ayr, where they provide a photo and we, in turn, provide up to 250 words.
The two gargoyles had managed to get away from the gendarmes since there was a small crash with several cyclists on the Tour de France just at that moment; sadly they had to leave their big motorcycle, but they quickly got to the fields and they hid in the many, many tall sunflowers.
They whispered together: ‘what are we going to do?’ – ‘look, the river is just over there,’ – oh yes, I can see a boat,’ – ‘you mean we are going to row? – ‘hmm, I’ve a better idea…’ as he pulled out his smartphone, and began to send a WhatsApp.
Joan picked up her phone as her face lit up, she glanced at the red-headed woman, ‘haven’t you still got that little car? – ‘I.. em, yes… I’ll go and get it, and I’ll drive back to you,’ as she jumped up, ‘we will all go and find that place… yes?’
Two hours later, the three women had already found that big motorcycle; ‘well, I can ride it,’ said Scatty, ‘and I’ll sit on the back,’ said Joan.
It was the next day, and the three women were still looking for the two gargoyles.
Francis was on his own, it was the rest day for the Tour de France, so no cycling to watch; he walked into the music room, it had been hardly used for decades, but suddenly Francis had a hankering to play: maybe the piano, or the guitar? but no, that lovely cello, ‘I’m going to play it.’
It was another Sunday afternoon for the two boys. ‘It’s always nice to go on our bikes, isn’t it.’ ‘Yes indeed, we are very lucky, especially now it’s a lovely day.’ ‘Let’s go faster, and maybe we can see a train, since the tracks are not far from here.’ ‘Gosh yes, we can go over the bridge just over there.’ And so the two boys rode off as fast as they could.
They came to a stop, and right in the middle of the bridge. ‘Can’t see a train either on the upline or downline at the moment.’ As they both looked (and twice). ‘Are there trains on Sunday?’ ‘I’m sure there are… I think.’ They thought again, and looked again; but nothing. ‘Oh well, let’s ride as close as we can, since there’s a little road over there.’
So they continued for quite a long time, still looking for a train. ‘Gosh, we’re almost in another village, and I don’t know this place.’ ‘Me neither, but look…’ ‘Oh yes, it’s a level crossing and also a little train station.’ ‘And now listen…’ ‘They are closing the gates…’
The two boys grinned. ‘Quick, let’s get on the platform.’ ‘Are we allowed?’ ‘Yes, of course.’
The train stopped and people got out, and in. The guard glanced over to the two boys and their bikes, and he said: ‘Do you want to go in the last carriage? And there’s no charge for you.’ ‘Ooh, thanks a lot,’ as they both grinned.
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Posted for The Unicorn Challenge, a magical challenge hosted by Jenne Gray and C E Ayr, where they provide a photo and we, in turn, provide up to 250 words.
The red-headed woman had known the strange and wonderful breed of people who stayed around Montmartre for more than a year now, she had been reminiscing about all of them: the three vampires, the one shapeshifter and (of course) the two gargoyles.
She’d been to the small but beautiful cemetery known as the Large Quarries, where she’d drawn a rather nice picture using her new pastels and paper; she was about to finish since no-one was around today, but then she saw Scatty.
‘Gosh, that’s good,’ said Scatty, ‘you’ve drawn several plants around here – the one’s I have used…. hmm, delightful, and useful too – magical; but never mind about that, we should go to that old mansion, and let’s not delay – you do know that the Tour de France is about to start, don’t you?’
‘You remember what they said, the two gargoyles, while we all watched that gorgeous ballet a few days ago?’ – ‘I do remember what the two of them said, something about going to see the Tour de France, and riding on a big motorcycle, yes?’
‘Come on we’re here, and we can watch the TV,’ – the red-headed woman and Scatty sat down on a large couch, while Joan and Francis were already sitting here to watch the Tour.
‘Look over there,’ said Joan, ‘we can see those two on their big motorcycle, and there’s something going on… a couple of policemen (gendarmeries, in fact), oh gosh, it seems that both of them will be detained!’
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