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C'est La Vie

short story just for fun paris

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3 replies to this topic

#1 Offline Nuile the Paracosmic Tulpa

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Posted Mar 03 2014 - 12:58 AM

The wind whipped into the compartment. Passengers screamed as papers ripped themselves out of their hands and briefcases and bags and hats tumbled along with the rushing air, joining tumbling books and empty cups and expensive fur stoles in a whirling dance. I shattered the remains of the window and heaved half my body through. An attendant grabbed me by the foot, but I kicked him in the face. The momentum propelled me out the window and I plunged downward through the sky.

I slung the parachute over my back, fumbling with the harness while struggling to keep it from flying out of my grip. It worked itself free of one shoulder and I barely caught it before it absconded into the blue yonder. It probably would have been smarter to put this on before I had jumped through the window, but I might not have fit that way. Besides, I like to work on the fly. Or rather, on the fall.

I managed to strap on the pack and pull the ripcord. As soon as I was descending at a safe speed and my heart rate had a chance to slow, the view of the city strangling the Seine was actually quite beautiful.

I was right on course to land in a lovely little park, but the wind had other ideas and I descended on a church spire instead. I guess it was a spiritually uplifting experience.

Apparently I had attracted a lot of attention, because a large crowd of people were pointing and shouting, but I couldn’t be sure because they shouted in French and pointed in French too, of course, and they might just have been admiring the architecture for all I knew.

Pretty soon I started hearing sirens. I was surprised the sirens didn’t siren in French, but I guess you can’t have everything. Wait, is siren a verb?

After the fire department got me down from the spire, the police started asking me questions. I tried to communicate yo no hablo francés by gesture, but that got us nowhere. I tried to translate his French—something, I thought, about passing harbors or possibly wine, and maybe something about a crazy, stupid derriere—but one year in high school Francais didn’t cut it.

I was taken downtown, talked to someone who spoke English, I was asked if I had a passport, I said No, and all said and done I ended up in a cell.

And as the French say, voilà! A holiday in Paris without having to pay for reservations.



Nuile: Lunatic Wordsmith :smilemirunu:

Edited by Makaru, Mar 03 2014 - 07:48 PM.
not that there's anything wrong with that

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When I know I can't live without a pen and paper, when I know writing is as necessary to me as breathing . . .




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#2 Offline A Forgotten Soul

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Posted Mar 03 2014 - 01:04 AM

It's a great story, I'll give it that. The humor kept me entertained as I read on. Though I get the Paris part of the story, I don't see the gay part.

No offense to you guys are. I'm just stating from what I read.

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#3 Offline 25K When?

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Posted Mar 03 2014 - 03:07 AM

Gay Paris, IIRC, refers to the fact that Paris was a highly cheery and energetic city.

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#4 Offline JAG18

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Posted Mar 03 2014 - 12:30 PM

This is a rather humorous tale.  For some reason I thought that this guy was going to end up as a spy or something, but the ending made me think he could just as easily have been someone who got tried of the airline food.

I do feel like it should have had some more resolution and answered at least some questions, "Who is he?"  "Why did he jump?""Why was he flying in the first place?"  But, this story's charm doesn't come from the destination as so much as it does from the trip it self; getting there is half the fun so to speak.  


As a piece of short fiction, this is pretty good and it makes for some humorous light reading.

Edited by JAG18, Mar 03 2014 - 06:17 PM.

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