Paris Photographer – Louis Paulin

‘Another fuse has blown again,’ muttered the ancient priest; he turned his head to see a rather striking red-headed woman who had just stood up and dusted herself down, and then beamed; she looked to Francis (whom she knew really rather well, particularly since he was a vampire), and then she looked to the ancient priest – ‘maybe I can help?’ she said.

The ancient priest muttered again: ‘well, I’m not an oracle, that’s for sure, and it isn’t mention in my job description either, but I don’t know what’s the matter with that thing; I’m stumped.’

But now the red-headed woman was able to say: ‘I am a dab hand at many things, including changing fuses, come on let’s do it.’

So they opened the crypt and crept down, and fortunately a large torch was at hand, and it was charged.

She carefully walked across and opened the fuse box, ‘now, the best thing is to turn off all of it, then changed the broken one, and then pushed them all up again,’ as she grinned; and a moment later the crypt was light again, although it was in the underground, of course.

She looked around, ‘there is hardly anything here,’ she looked rather disappointed, as she said: ‘no coffins now then,’ as she looked to Francis; ‘certainly not,’ he replied, ‘all our stuff is much more modern, and in another place anyway, but I guess we don’t need to go there any more, we can just close it down.’

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

 

More #SixSentenceStories

 

 

 

 

Paris Photographer – Louis Paulin

The red-headed women had laced up her new trainers and walked off to find what she would do, she was pleased with them, they were all the rage apparently, they were very comfortable and practical too – cool, in fact – so she continued to walk further to the cemetery, known as the Cemetery of the Large Quarries (and an interesting fact).

She’d not seen her two lovely gargoyles for ages, nor any of her vampire friends, and although she had a good day, and night, including a rather nice dinner in a bistro, just off the main road in Montmartre, she was still missing all of them.

She was still musing about what she had eaten and drunk last evening; especially that final little drink – absinthe, one of the favourite ones from the vampire people, and the best one, according to Francis.

And at that moment, the red-headed woman saw Francis, he was sitting reading by one of the graves in the shade, almost blissful she’d thought.

She was about to mosey over to him, but then someone else appeared, and who was he, she wondered; she watched as they greeted each other, he was stooped and wizened, and wearing a large hat, and then she realised he was a priest, and a very old one to boot.

The red-headed woman got closer, trying to catch the name, but all she could hear was ‘Father…’, gosh that was annoying; she was so interested to listen that she tripped… oh bother.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

 

More #SixSentenceStories

 

 

 

 

Paris Photographer – Louis Paulin

The red-headed women had woken up, and rather quickly, she’d sat up and looked around, wondering what time it was, clearly the sun was already quite high in the sky – what a beautiful day – she thrust her slippers on and almost jumped up from the bed.

She opened the two French doors, as the warm air flooded in, she gazed around the tiny balcony; then she gazed around again, looking up, around and everywhere, but there was no sign of the two lovely gargoyles – they were her friends!

She padded back into the kitchen to make some proper coffee, and something to eat; there was a slightly stale half a baguette which was good enough, she would share some of the crust with the two little doves who were nesting there.

After finishing her breakfast, or rather brunch, she wandered into the bedroom to dress – something fresh and light since it was May; she straighten her duvet and put her pjs on top with her pillows – all perfect now, especially since her pjs are called Cat-Puccino (yes, really).

She had been sitting on her bed, where all her treasures were strewn around now, not very useful, apart from her ruby ring which was pretty valuable; but the problem was she was bored – just bored; but that’s not the reason… no! time to go out.

She should trust her instincts, she would find something to do, and with that… she strided off – at least it’s wonderful Paris, as she smiled.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

 

More #SixSentenceStories