Oh Paris, the city of love, where people can see the Eiffel Tower, and watch it glisten at night, looking like stars in the French Countryside. If you pay attention closely enough, you can detect the scents of perfume and baked goods in the air. Many people dream of going and getting married or going on vacation there. Some, in fact, even live there, just like the Boulanger family. They have one of the best bakeries in Paris, called Palais de la Patisserie. Quite a charming name, isn’t it?

On one particular day in April, the sun rose in Paris, casting a shadow over the flats and over the tall buildings. The Boulanger family lives in a townhouse within the city of Paris. It had a brown roof, and crème colored walls, and in the front yard were tricycles and bouncy balls that belonged to their children. Margot Boulanger, who was a mother of four children, was getting ready for another day of housewife work. She was wearing a pink satin robe with pink feathers on the sleeves. She had fresh lipstick on her lips and had hot hair curlers in her hair.  

Her husband, Henri, quietly opened the door. He had a freshly ironed suit and tie on. “Bonjour, ma chère!!” He said loud and cheerily in the doorway. His loud, booming voice caused poor Margot to scream. “Henri!! Don’t you ever do that!!” She said, causing him to laugh. “Why, you could’ve messed up my curls!! And why are you so joyous this morning?” She said, putting makeup powder on her cheeks. “Why, Margot, my starling. There are rumors around Paris that John Lake is coming here!!” He said as he walked over and wrapped both arms around his wife. “Why, that’s wonderful!!” Said Margot happily. 

“Who’s that again?” she said sheepishly. “He’s said to be one of the richest men in London, and he might stop at our bakery to try some of that lovely angel cake!!” He said in a happy voice. The two squealed and laughed happily. That’s when Margot stood up and shouted, “Children!! Get up!! School starts soon!!” 

While the children were putting on their dresses and hats, Margot made breakfast while Henri read the newspaper. “Say, would you look at that sweetheart!!” he said, pointing at a certain ad in the newspaper as he lowered his cigarette down. “There’s a fortune-teller not far from Colette’s school.” He said, his eyes twinkling with wonder and curiosity. “Why don’t we go? And take the kids!!” Margot said as she placed plates on the dining table. “Hopefully, they’ll tell us when our dearest son James will come back from military school.” She said as she looked at a photo of James on the wall. The children sat at the table and began to eat. Fleur, the middle child, sulked at her milk. “Oh, what’s the matter, Fleur? You’ve barely drunk any of your milk!!” Fleur scoffed. “I don’t like milk! It comes from cow udders!! Pretty girls don’t drink cow milk!” She said, crossing her arms and lifting her blue puffy dress like a princess. “Now, dear, you must not complain. Drink your milk, it’s good for growing children like you.” Margot said as she pinched Fleur’s cheek. “Mama!! Mama!! We’re learning about animals in school!” Said Louis, the youngest sibling. “My favorite one is a cat!” He said, stirring his cereal. “That’s lovely. Now hurry up! Or you’ll be late!!” 

The oldest sibling was Colette. She had dark skin and black hair. She looked just like her brother and father. Today, she was wearing a plaid skirt and a buttoned-up shirt, along with Mary Jane shoes. She was always known to be a smart and gifted student; she didn’t like to brag. She rode on her bicycle and had her textbooks in her basket. Once her mother had waved goodbye with her handkerchief and packed her beloved little girl some leftover apple pie along with some smoked ham for lunch, she then rode through Paris, greeting people as she passed by. “Bonjour, Mme Jasper!! Bonjour Professor Goodman!!” 

She soon found herself in her classroom, sitting at her uncomfortable desk, watching paper airplanes and spitballs fly across the room. The chaos of the children was interrupted by Mr. Navy slapping his ruler against his desk. “Children!! Settle down.” Like a mouse seeing a cat, they all quickly obeyed him and sat down. In some ways, he was like a king or a military Sergeant. 

“As you all know, my wife, Silvia, and I are getting married in Notre Dame church next month. So why don’t we learn about some facts about the history, shall we?” 

“Yes, Mr. Navy.” Said the students in sync. Mr. Navy smiled. “Very well, then, children. We shall start with an artifact.” 

Mr. and Mrs. Boulanger parked in front of the school, with both Fleur and Louis in the backseat. “Mommy? Where are we going?” 

Margot laughed and clapped her hands together. Her eyes were twinkly and bright like her diamond ring, and her lipstick was the color of a perfect and juicy red strawberry, which was on top of a delicious tart, on a porcelain plate, on a blanket during a picnic in spring. “Oh, darling!! I think it’ll be so nice to give your sister a lovely day after a day of learning!! We’ll see a fortune-teller in no time, and see if we’ll be rich!!” She giggled and hugged her husband happily. 

“Yes, children. In case you didn’t overhear your mother and me this morning,” Said Henri, as he looked at his wife while she fixed her already red lipstick in her golden pocket mirror, “Mr. Lake is coming to Paris!! And he is the richest man in London!! Not only is he seeing the Eiffel Tower, but he might stop at the bakery!!” He said, tickling Louis’ cheeks. The children cheered, not knowing what that meant, but were excited to go somewhere besides the park or the bakery. 

The students were back at school, still talking about Notre Dame, either paying attention, tapping their pencils, or goofing off. “And some citizens in France say that the real crown of thrones is there.” Said Mr Navy, drawing a depiction of the crown of thrones. The class was oohing and clapping. That’s when May-Day, the class clown, raised his hand. When Mr. Navy caught May Day’s hand, he rolled his eyes and sighed. “Yes, May Day?” 

“What’s the thorn thingy again?” He said, drawing inappropriate and naughty words on his desk. The class laughed at the comment, except for Colette, who rolled her eyes. “For goodness’s sake, May Day!! You haven’t been paying attention!!” He said, facepalming. “The crown of thorns was worn by Jesus when he was put on the cross.” Said Colette, without raising her hand. Suddenly, as if on cue, the bell rang. “Class is dismissed!!” Said Mr Navy, staring at the students already making a beeline for the hallway to go home. Before Colette left, Mr. Navy pulled her aside. “You are a very smart kid, you know that, right?” 

Colette nodded. “Outstanding work today, my friend. Have a lovely afternoon.” In the hallway, some students were talking about going to the library or playing games in the alleyways. “Hey Colette!!” Said a voice, calling her name. It was Pierre, the popular boy of the school. He looked like Elvis Presley, and most of the girls liked him. He was your average jock, always talking about sports. “Hey,” said Colette shyly. She felt awkward and quiet around him a lot. “Say, watcha’ doin’ after school?” he said in his Brooklyn accent. His father moved to France for a job, and he loved Paris. “Well, I’m going to do my everyday routine after school, I help my mother frost the cupcakes, fill the empty jars with fruits, and also do homework,” she said, blushing and smiling. 

“Sounds fun, sounds fun.” He said, leaning against the wall. “Well, maybe someday I should go to your bakery.” He said with a wink. “Catch you later!!” he said, running for the football field. Colette stared, feeling like a cupid’s arrow shot into her heart, and her eyes would turn into ridiculous hearts, just like those Looney Tunes cartoons her siblings would watch. 

Her romantic swooning was interrupted by a car honking. She looked over and saw her father. “Come on, sugar puff!! We’ve got work to do!”

They arrived at this weird and sketchy area of the city, almost close to where the catacombs are. They entered a building, and it smelt of lavender and smoke. There were purple curtains, and this old stray cat was roaming around, which looked like it had seen the First World War. “Ah, come in, come in,” said an old, raspy voice. There was a hooded old woman who looked like a gypsy. She was near a table, and in the middle was a crystal ball. “O-Oh!! G-good afternoon, Madam,” said Henri, tipping his hat. “Ah, yes, you must be….” she squinted, and then laughed. “Henri, the one who owns that wonderful bakery, ah, what brings you here?”

“In case you haven’t heard, Mr. Lake is coming to Paris!! And, I want to see if we will be rich! HA HA!!” he clapped his hands in delight. “You’ve come to the right place, Mr. Boulanger.” She had the family sit in the chairs, and she looked within the crystal ball. “Ah, yes, he arrives at your bakery.” She said, rubbing the ball. Margot happily squealed, “Is he kissing my hand??” 

“Ah, no, no, it’s…” She stopped and gasped. “I knew this would happen.” She stood up quickly. “You are now cursed, my friends, you shall experience terror, and horror!!” The cat hissed, showing its sharp teeth. “Ahaha, lovely, lovely.” Said Henri, putting his kids behind him. “I think we need to go.” He quickly ran out, without a tip, thinking the woman was crazy. 

“You might think that I am indeed crazy, but you have stepped over the grave of a monster.” She said, her eyes showing her knowledge of what comes after mankind. The family sprinted to the car and skidded their car down the Paris streets. “What was that all about!?” Said Colette. “Crazy lady, ignore it, dear. She smelt like sewage!!” Sulked Margot. “Oh, her smell ruined my mascara!!” She cried. “What will I do?! She’s a witch!!” 

“Darling, that’s your sweat.” Said Henri. 

On a Friday evening, Colette heard the oven ding and walked over to the oven, and saw that the cake was burnt. “Oh no!! Mother will be so upset!!” But the thing was, the cake was there for only five minutes. The cake had to bake for 20 minutes. Martha, the tacky-smoking old lady, entered the bakery. “Oh, little girl!! Hasn’t your mother taught you to bake!? It smells like a house fire in here!!” 

Colette looked up at her, and her cheeks turned red with pure embarrassment. “I-I’m awfully sorry, Martha,” she said, taking the cake out with her oven mitts. “What’s going on?” said Margot, walking into the room. “Oh, Colette, deary. It wasn’t your fault.” 

She looked over at Martha and put her hands on her hips. “Why don’t you get your ugly, fuzzy, rotten beaver pelt boa, along with your cigarettes, out of my bakery!!” she screamed at Martha. “Why, WHY, do you think I’ll leave YOUR bakery? I just want your fruitcake!!” 

“OUT!!” said Margot, pointing her finger at Martha. For the next few days, it has gotten worse. On Monday, one dirty rat found themselves in the sprinkle jars, eating most of the sprinkles, and was found dead in the jar. On Tuesday, two mischievous little boys stole five cream buns from the shop, and then it all over their buttoned-up shirts, looking like a sticky mess. 

The next morning, on Wednesday, was rather normal, and Fleur came home with an A+ on her test all about the American states. Margot baked an American-style cherry pie to celebrate. Fleur spooned a big bite of the pie into her mouth, and when the flavor touched her tongue, she gagged and spat it out. 

“Mother!! This pie tastes funny!!” said Fleur, her face making a frown. Colette made the same face as well. “It sure does!! It tastes like….”

“Coins!! Big shiny coins!!” Said Louis as he stirred his fork around in the gross pie. Yes, indeed, he did know what a coin tasted like. When he was three, he swallowed one, thinking it was a chocolate coin, and had to go to the hospital to get it removed. Suddenly, they heard the family’s poodle, Mona Lisa, barking at something. 

“What is it?” Said Colette, following the dog. Margot then realized that she had run out of cherries earlier that day, so where did she get them from? Her question was answered when she went outside. She let out a blood-curdling scream and fainted on the spot. On the grass, three dead stray cats were lying all over, as if they were wounded soldiers in a war. Their blood was drained, and it was just bones and fur. Their ground-up blood was used instead of cherries. 

On Thursday, Colette came home after a long day of school, and a customer had ordered a vanilla cake. She went back to grab flour and saw an empty urn on the floor. She gasped, figuring out that the urn held the ashes of her grandfather, who had died whilst fighting in the First World War. 

Then, she opened one of the bags of flour, and her eyes widened. In five bags of flour, it was filled with her grandfather’s ashes. 

 On Friday, after school, the family came home and discovered that seven bites had been taken out of the cake. “Fleur. Did you eat a slice of cake before school?!” Said Henri, his arms crossed. “No, daddy, I didn’t!!” she whimpered. “I just took one sugar cookie!!”  

Henri kneeled down to look at the bite of cake. The bites didn’t look like children’s teeth, but rather sharp and not of this world. 

Mr. Lake had arrived the next morning and had heard of the bakery with strange occurrences. “I just have to go!!” He said to his bodyguards joyfully. 

When he entered, he saw several people gathering to ask questions about the weird occurrences. “Oh, stop gathering around us!! Will you? My perfume is going to fade, and I’m going to start sweating and smelling like rotten beans and chili on a hot summer day!!” said Margot, as she fanned herself.

“Ah, Henri, I’ve heard about this….myth in the bakery.” Said Mr. Lake, politely pushing through the crowd. Henri chuckled. “Mr. Lake, welcome, welcome. And yes, we have been experiencing….” 

He looked at his wife and kids. “Rather odd anomalies,” he said with a sheepish grin. “M. Boulanger. I do know, and I have studied in my books, that Paris holds secrets.” He said, putting a hand on Henri’s shoulder. “And you did mention that of a lunatic gypsy woman, didn’t you?” 

“Mm, yes…what about that old, crazed girl? What does she know beyond Paris?”

Henri’s comment made Mr. Lake chuckle. “Well, my friend. She might indeed be right. Don’t you know where you stood? At that very place you saw her, you stood over an entrance, to something rather known, guess what it is?”

“Not sure, the resting place of a sinner?”

“The Paris Catacombs.”

“You have awoken something, rather unsettling, and not human at all. And you have ten days of horrors. And well, on day ten, it might be too late.” He said, shuddering. 

“And, I think you might want to check your oven, because something is burning.”

“Oh!! You are most certainly right!!” Said Colette, covering her nose. “What is that smell!?” Pierre scowled, “It smells like expired meat!!” said Pierre as he held his hands over his mouth and nose. 

“It’s coming from the oven!!” Shouted Fleur. “I’ll check!!” Said both Colette and her mother at the same time. They went to the back kitchen, and there was a long silence. Then Margot screams. “I’ll call the police!!” Shouted Colette. “Father!! Get the phone!!” 

The Paris Police arrived, and everyone wondered what the two had found. The police told people that there were eight dead bodies in the oven, mangled. Some had their eyes removed, and their tongues cut off.  

The next day, they closed the bakery for now, frightened of what would happen next. “Oh, Henri, what will we do!?” said Margot, weeping in her husband’s arms. “We’ll find out what’s happening, dear, stop your crying!!”

That evening, while Colette watched the news about the finding of the bodies, she heard the telephone ring in the kitchen. She ran over and picked it up. “Hello?” 

“Hello!! It’s Pierre. Awfully sorry about yesterday, it must have been terrifying.” 

He said from the other line. “They looked like they’ve been killed!! And this is not something a human would do.” 

“How do you know? You obviously have never seen such a crime!!” 

“Well, I kind of have, all because of my father watching war movies, and the wounds are of human impact.” 

“Oh, well, that sort of counts.” Said Pierre as he scratched his chin. “Do the police know yet?” 

“Well….” She heard a thump from the attic. “Not yet,” the thump happened again, this time a little louder. “Excuse me, I need to check something.” She dropped the phone. 

“Alright, Colette-Colette? Colette?” He said into the phone, and there was no answer. “Oh, never mind.” 

Colette ran to the attic, following the sound. But before she climbed up and onto the ladder, she grabbed her father’s camera. She needed answers, she didn’t want to go up herself, but wanted a photo. She climbed up just enough to snap a picture. Furthermore, she pushed the button, and CLICK!! She snapped a photo. 

On Sunday, Colette went to the store to get more fruits for the week’s special, fruit tarts, while she waited for the photo to develop. Once she checked out, she crossed the street, running to the building where her photo was. A car barely hit her as she ran. “OI!! Watch where you’re going, kid!!” Shouted a grouchy short man with a cigarette in his mouth. Colette found herself in the doorway, opening it and running to where her photo was. When she picked it up, she gasped, almost dropping her paper bag of fruits. 

In the attic was a huge, humanoid gargoyle. It had human-like eyes and human-like teeth, along with wings. She had to show her mother, and so she ran home, leaving the paper bag behind. 

“Mother!! Mother!! Look what I-” 

She heard her mother sobbing hysterically, and then she laughed. She laughed like a clown when you tell them a joke. “Mother…?” Said Colette, following the laugh into the kitchen. Colette was suddenly hit with a metallic smell and a smell of rotting meat. When she opened the kitchen door, she was met with a disturbing sight. Her mother was laughing hysterically and was eating the remains of what looked to be Colette’s own father. Margot ripped her teeth into her flesh, and bits and pieces fell from her mouth. Her eyes were black voids with smaller eyes inside them, and her fingers were disturbingly long, and her laughs sounded more distorted. It was like a broken voice box belonging to a talking and crying doll.

She looked at Colette and giggled. “I can’t help it, Colette, I was too hungry…” She said in between giggles. “I was the one who did everything. I wanted to make the bakery more beautiful,” she giggled. “But I don’t remember throwing your fellow neighbors in the oven for our daily special. Silly me, there’s so much going through mommy’s head.” She said, crawling towards Colette, whose face was paler than Casper the Ghost. “Mother….” tears formed in her eyes. “But why…?” 

“Don’t cry, little Colette,” She said, circling her own daughter like a spider on a web, about to consume a fly. “You’ll be safe with daddy now.” She giggled. “It’ll be just like the old times, honey, in the womb.” 

“You are not Mother!! You are something out of hell!!” Screamed Colette, backing away from her. “Oh, quit your complaining, you ungrateful little swine!! Your siblings have already done it.” 

She heard the sound of Louis screaming and the sound of stomach acid burning his skin. “Isn’t it DARLING?” She said with a giggle. Colette slapped herself and tried to think of what to do, between the gurgles of her “mother’s” gut, digesting what is left of both her father and brother. She went straight to the knife rack, ran to her mother, and sliced open her abdomen. Coming out, alive, was Louis. “Colette….!!” he said, cheerfully, as he hopped in her arms. He was covered in a gross subsistence, and had tears in his eyes as he hugged his sister. 

Colette grabbed both Louis, Fleur, Mona Lisa, and herself and ran for the car. As they ran, they heard their mother’s moaning and groaning. 

Colette tried starting the car, but it stuttered. She scoffed. “Dammit!!” she whispered under her breath. “Mommy’s going to be angry when you say naughty words…” said Louis in his car seat. “Mommy’s gone, okay?” She said, trying to start the engine. “She’s….” She looked behind her and heard inhuman screeches. She started the car again, and it worked. They drove through Paris, Devil in Disguise by Elvis Presley played on the radio, as the tires screeched through town. 

The mayor was throwing a gala that evening, and Colette was already wearing her yellow dress and her yellow ribbon. Fleur had a pink dress, and Louis had on a hat and buttoned up overalls, but the hat was digested by his own mother. Colette quickly parked the car in front of a building. She ran up the stairs, her heels clicking. She barged through the building, holding the photo. 

“Please, sir!! You have to save Paris!! My mother has gone mad, and ate my father up like a damn soup!!” The people at the gala laughed, thinking she was joking. Colette felt anger, and she banged against a table. “CALM!!” 

Everyone stopped laughing, and the whole building went quiet. She took a deep breath. “Mr. Mayor, you have to understand. I am the daughter of Mr. and Ms. Bolunager, and we went to a gypsy fortune-teller.” 

The people whispered amongst themselves. “Fortune teller?” said the mayor. “Yes, sir. A fortune-teller. Our bakery has had many incidents. We found dead bodies in the oven, and….” 

She looked around and saw people looking at her like she was crazy. “She’s a mad girl!! Throw her in a hospital!!” Yelled an old man. The people were now demanding that she be thrown in a mental asylum. 

“Paris, you have to believe me!!” She held up the photo, and everyone gasped. And a woman even dropped her glass, causing it to break. “You….” The mayor hesitated. “You aren’t crazy-” 

All that she could remember was that an army of gargoyles broke in, attacking and mangling people’s bodies, and everything went dark. 

The family was never seen again, but the only family member alive is their dog, who was adopted by the mayor’s wife. People wonder about them, and the bakery was closed down and turned into a paranormal museum for tourists. 

People say that their remains are locked away in a closed-off area in the catacombs, and people blame the Notre Dame fire on Colette. 

There is a rumor, turning out to be true, that a cult called Mere Margot is said to be underneath the Notre Dame. When translated into English, it means Mother Margot. And the leader of the cult? Well, it was founded by Mr.r Lake himself. He didn’t study the beliefs of Paris; he believed in Paris. And so is Colette, the Gargoyle Girl. The Gargoyles are asleep, but they will awake when Colette, their leader, comes back.