An Obsession

It was a strange obsession, but it had come to him in church. There was a bat, of course, that fluttered, somewhat clumsily and oscillated in between the organ and the purple pulpit. He'd had a funny feeling then that bats in church meant trouble, which was, needless to say, ridiculous. Though, on the other hand he did cast a good look into the face and on the vampire coat, spread open the clawy feet and that most vicious head, it could well be the devil, right? Whatever did transpire, he was now all saddled with this single thought that he would need to find his way to Paris, France and then the tower. He was to hurl himself off its high top, and count the seconds to the very end. He fought the thought for weeks, he did. Then chose a Friday afternoon at last, the bus arrived right on La Place and up he went, slamming the door of the South lift on reason and his life. One foot onto the balustrade, reached up to grab his last support in life, but then a voice, so sweet and innocent, soprano, asked 'Oh Monsieur, avez-vous faim? ' He was not hungry, for Christ's sake, and told her so, but she persisted Voilà, Monsieur je habite près du Bois de Bologne, il est minuit! ' La ville des lumières, ah, magnifique! Who cares, he thought, while looking down onto the grandest ville, the city of the lights, if you live near the Bois de Bologne, and what on earth gives you the right to bother me, and be up here at minuit? The spell was cast, the innocence of youth had carefully removed the ugly bat from his insides and he was led by happy hands, down to the lobby, the foyer, where one could be a child again and buy from the kiosk, un chocolat.