Normally if someone says “I’m in Paris,” you would probably assume the’re somewhere within sight of the Eiffle Tower. I mean, it’s very tall and this region is very flat. It’s how I managed to navigate the city very easily the last time I was here. I’ve been her a week, and ignoring the fact that it’s been foggy, I still haven’t gotten a peek of it. Oh well, it’s not going anywhere.
This vlog was the first appearance of “Voilà, Sandwich,” where I track each sandwich I eat.
I can now make proper videos that aren’t just the inside of this room. Stay tuned.
He dabbed at the individual colors on his pallet, adding a bit of the titanium white to the pink. There were faint graphite lines drawn on the canvas, partially erased. He looked on.
“The fireplace feels nice. My parents had one long ago.” She rubbed her neck, wavy hair flowing down onto the cushions of the lounge chair.
“Stay still, honey.” He started passing the brush horizontally, with the lightest of touch.
“My front side is cold, though.” She complained. He sighed out his nose heavily. Setting aside the pallet, he pulled up his side table. He stood up and disappeared to the other room. A few moments later, he reappeared with tall glass and a bottle of red, the plain beige label coming up at the corners just slightly. With his stained fingers and stubby nails, he picked at the foil on top.
“You had a bottle at dinner, already.” She sat up to grab the shawl that was draped over the foot of the lounge. The soft wool had a slight shimmer of gold fibers weaved into it. Her feet danced back and forth as she pulled it up over her dainty legs.
“It’s good for the creative mind.” He winded the foil down in a spiral fashion until the last little bit relinquished its hold on the neck of the bottle. The opener was right at his hand, by the pallet. He made eye-contact with her as he inserted the corkscrew and twisted it down. “When you’re my age, you will understand why us adults thrive on this stuff.” Her shoulder strap fell down ever so slightly as she rolled her head in boredom. Continue reading “Picture of a Girl”
I’ve been both jet lagged and busy with the family offering to help me and show me things every at every turn, so this video has been a bit in the making. Other than show up and wake up every day, I haven’t done much in France yet, so you’re not really missing out on anything.
As far as getting to even see the Eiffel Tower or anything else remotely touristy, I haven’t even gotten on the train yet to take me into the inner part of Paris. I’ve gotten more Skype messages from my mom than baguettes that I’ve consumed.
I want to show my ride into Paris, but to do that I need to buy a new camera so the video won’t look like this one. To buy a new camera, I need to go into Paris. I guess there really is no good way to do this…
Hell to Pay: Chapter 7
The blood flowed into the back of his mouth. The room was cold, but the blood was warm. It tasted rancid. The fur tickled his throat and he promptly spit the skull out on the ground in front of him. More blood dripped from his lips, and the decapitated body was grasped tightly in his fist.
Blood trickled from the neck. It was on his hands, and it streaked down his own neck and into his collar. He played with the slick sensation between his fingertips. It was quickly going cold, like the body of the mouse would once discarded. The heart of such a small animal beats much faster than that of a human. Its metabolism is much higher as a result. If it doesn’t eat often, it would become catatonic from lack of energy. This thing had been feeding off the scraps left behind when Teivel and his parents had left. It’s stomach was fat with grains of rice, full of potential energy, life power.
The lines in coal dust on the ground remained inactive. When Teivel closed his eyes, the same image was pulled from his memory. Yet the one he had drawn before was crimson, not dull and grey. It had produced, as it seems, pure darkness, pure evil. Had it been a dream?
He pulled back his sleeve, revealing the scar, healed but still buried deep in his flesh. It was real. His bloody hands traced the charcoal lines, the porous dust sucking up the moisture. A draft of wind was pulled in through the chimney flue, blowing some of the dust gently across the floor. Teivel continued to trace the shapes. A sharp pain returned to the six-pointed star carved in his arm. He felt weak, bending over the ground, he placed both hands down for support. The dead mouse tumbled from his grasp. Each breath he took drew air into his lungs, cold, they burned.
Dark wisps of smoke seemed to arise from the fresh lines of blood. They curled gently in the air, dancing among the coal dust in the rays of light coming in the window. The center of the pentagram produced more smoke, heavy and black as the Rabbi’s robes. It slowly spread across the floor, like a bucket of pitch that had been overturned.Continue reading “The Power of Blood”
Hell to Pay, Chapter 6
Teivel rolled out from under the pew. The rafters of the ceiling collected smoke, which seemed to roll inwards up the pointed roof.
The synagogue was still devoid of people. Teivel spun his head around looking for the source of the smoke. The large room was stifling from the heat. The doors leading to the back of the building poured out from the edges of the door jamb. Teivel quickly ran to the back and reached for the door knob. The heat was bearable, but only just so. The door swung open to reveal several bookshelves in the back ablaze, carrying with them decades on decades of knowledge.
The fire jumped up one towering bookcase at a time, slowly reaching the front end of the church. Teivel ran inside, trying to grab any books he could muster. Hus lungs and throat took on the scorching smoke, and he felt his strength leave his body. The heavy books dropped from his grasp, forced to back out of the room. The Quaran on the alter sat before him as he crouched down to catch his breath. Regaining his strength, he went to pick up the massive book. Shoving it under his arm, he made a dash for the door.
The bright light of the mid afternoon blinded him for a brief moment. His eyes adjusted, and he found himself face to face with a man in another fancy uniform. The man, who had been standing in front of the opposite door was equally surprised. Teivel recognized the symbol on the man’s uniform; it was not someone he would want to deal with at the moment. Before the man could react, Teivel took off down the road.
He didn’t dare look back to see if he was being pursued. The neighborhood before him was familiar, it was his. Finally able to catch his breath, he looked around for anybody following him or otherwise. Everyone living in this quarter had been shipped off like him. For some reason though, they had set the synagogue ablaze. It was no act of nature or bad luck. He found his way to his home, still intact. Busting through the door, he ran back to his old room where the last remains of his notes would be.Continue reading “Knowledge, Aflame”