Category Archives: flash fiction from france (ffff)

Flash fiction that struck me on the streets and in the cafes of Paris, Normandy and Nice…

A Moment After a Long Day

They sat on a bench, people watching, blocks from the hotel, exhausted from the steps at Sacre Coeur.  It had been a long, beautiful day in Paris, culminating to this moment, when he glanced to the left and noticed the Eiffel Tower. His first view of it at night.  He nudged her, pointed, and she smiled and sighed a sound of pure contentment.  He snapped a photograph, trying to capture the feeling of that moment forever.

He was in Paris.

Catacombs, Paris

The ceiling was barely an inch above his head.  And he was not a tall guy.

He was claustrophobic but did not want his companions to know.  The tight spaces, small entrances, and close, stone walls were closing in, as they say.

Small corridors carved into the rock led to larger rooms, crypts, but the sigh of relief from the enclosed halls was short lived.

Bones lined the walls, sculls scraping at his elbows at times, millions of shadows cast upon the minute crevices similar to what was under his own skin and muscles.  A creepy wind blew softly, hitting the back of his neck, forcing a shudder down his spine and into his soul.

Bones piled tightly, centuries ago, stacks of human remains surrounding him, reminiscent of a horror movie.

A moment, capturing the scene, the essence, the death and decay of centuries, and then on to the next small, cramped passage, onwards and downwards to more crypts, more bones, more darkness, more chills.

Metro, Chapitre Un

Photograph of the Metro I took in Paris.

“Be ready to push your way out if you have to.”

“Okay.”

“And watch me.  I’ll watch you.  We don’t want to get robbed.”

“Check.”

“We get off in two stops.”

“Two.”

“Then we take the green line towards Porte de la Chapelle.”

“Okay.”

“You look beautiful.”

“Merci.”