Scent Of A Corpse.

November 15th, Monday.

It was a typical autumn night outside Rue Montorgueil, a serene Parisian street. Ellen Steward, a twenty-four-year-old woman, stepped out of her demanding office job into the calm streets. Her slender figure, akin to a majestic rose stem, was accentuated by her midnight-black hair. 

Despite the challenges of her job, Ellen leads a balanced, healthy life surrounded by love. Originally from England, she moved to Paris with her girlfriend, Natalie Christine, an aspiring stage actress. Ellen's personality is marked by a quiet strength, emotional sensitivity, and a tendency towards self-isolation after a mysterious tragedy that befell her when she was no older than seven. Living in a foreign country has been a struggle for her, as she finds it difficult to fully embrace life when sharing it with another. However, Ellen's emotional vulnerability, a result of her past, is a constant companion. She is determined to adapt and grow with the support of her dear friend.

Embracing the night's freedom, Ellen stood under the light from one of many streetlamps, resting her backpack, which she used for a change of clothes. Ellen threw on a light turquoise hoodie over a black turtleneck and zipped it up to her breast. Tying her long black hair into a ponytail, Ellen lit up a " Lucky" cigarette. As she waits for Natalie, who agreed to pick her up for a night filled with the desire for fun and memories. Glancing down at her silver wristwatch, it was just about midnight; Ellen figured Natalie was running a little late. Without any care, Ellen chose to wait patiently.

After enjoying a few hits off her cigarette, something from across the street caught Ellen's naive attention. Walking up and down the dimly lit street was a highly stylized performer known as a Mime. Since Ellen had moved to Paris, she'd seen dozens of Mimes working in public; accepting it as a common sight, she shrugged it off as nothing and continued to wait. Even though the knowledge was an excellent reminder to Ellen, she couldn't quite peg it, but there was something off about this particular Mime. Was it his repetitive pacing, or perhaps his unnaturally skeletal shape, that he claimed was a body? Ellen wasn't sure. The suspense in the air was thick, like a fog that refused to lift.

Adjusting her glasses, Ellen suddenly noticed the Mime's unsettling behavior. He had stopped pacing and was now leaning against the opposite lamp, his haunting eyes fixed on Ellen's innocent gaze. His eyes didn't blink, and his lips remained motionless. The Mime's behavior was a stark contrast to the peaceful, deserted street, threatening to shatter Ellen's innocence like fragile glass.

Throwing away her unfinished cigarette, Ellen rapidly texted Natalie that she would meet her at the bar as she walked away from the curb. Foolishly looking back like a child frightened of the darkness within their closest to see if he was gone. Much to Ellen's dislike, The Mime smoothly and hauntingly turns in perfect rhythm with Ellen's movements. To show her curiosity, The Mime rewarded Ellen with a twisted smile, revealing a set of razor-sharp teeth as he released a soft, dominantly hungry growl. The air was thick with dread, each step heavier and more uncertain than the last.

Increasing her steps, Ellen turns to the right and dashes down lightly wet concrete away from her disturbing stalker. Spinning recklessly around, Ellen found that The Mime did not follow her. However, it didn't last long. Soon, Ellen felt a poisonous urge take over her; whether she wanted to admit it or not, something she had naively believed she had buried was coming to pay her an unexpected visit. The sense of dread was palpable, hanging in the air like a thick fog, making Ellen's every step heavier and more uncertain. As her head began to feel dizzy and heavy, Ellen's body rapidly fell cold - trying to find reason, she took her shaking hands and began to wipe her face.

" Yo, Ellen?!" A familiar voice called out, " Quit Daydreaming And Get In!!!"

Confused and frightened, Ellen threw her shaking hand over her soft, rounded face once more, hoping to wipe away that event as nothing more than a disgusting nightmare. Releasing a low sigh, Ellen desperately races towards the warm embrace of her partner, hops into the van, and sits down despondently.

" Why the long face, babe?" Natalie inquires cheerfully, "Eat something rotten at work again?"

Blinking emptily as she fiddles nervously with her hair, Ellen responds in a hauntingly monotoned voice, "Oh no... I'm fine, Nat... I'm just... never mind, just a little tired."

" Are you sure about that?" Natalie teased with a jab to Ellen's left shoulder," I see you left your pack behind."

Embarrassed, Ellen knew she couldn't leave it behind. However, the tightening grip of fear forced Ellen to freeze unwillingly.

" Allow me, then!!! " Natalie taunts for a third time. Leaving the van in park, Natalie went to retrieve Ellen's pack. But upon returning, Natalie caught a better look at Ellen's discolored face and tearful eyes.

" Babe?" Natalie inquires in a straighter and concerned voice," What's wrong?!"

" It's nothing, Nat... really..." Ellen lies, masking his discomfort with a forced chuckle, " Just a bad work day is all... Come on, silly. Let's get going." Ellen ends with a weak jab. 

Natalie accepts Ellen's claim and starts the van without incident. Glancing up at the rearview mirror, Natalie briefly studies Ellen as she sits still, quietly, and hollowly cleans her glasses. Pulling the van out into the deserted streets, Natalie kept a watchful eye on Ellen as she drove.

As the gears of time click, the lone van travels along the streets of Paris without issue. Ellen struggles to keep her mental state under control, maintaining a poor man's poker face as the pair chatters about the typical events of the day. Stopping at a traffic light, Ellen felt the urge to prove to herself that The Mime didn't really exist. Cautiously turning towards the rear of the van, Ellen peeks to see if he didn't follow them. Much to her dislike, there he was once again.

Leaning suggestively against a brick wall, dressed in an old-fashioned black suit with clean white fingerless gloves, The Mime admires Ellen's eyes as he gestures at her with a distrustful tilt from his black Gatsby. Then, resting the cap back upon his skull, The Mime playfully spun Ellen's discarded cigarette and slid it between his cold, black lips. Igniting it with a burning match, the Mime enjoyed the trapped taste of Ellen's still-warm bodily fluids with a decisive blast of smoke. Locking his unholy eyes upon Ellen's, The Mime did not blink; he simply stood there and smiled deliciously at the frightened female. Noticing the light turning green, the Mime blows an unwanted and sickly kiss at Ellen as he waves " Au Revoir". Watching him slip back into the night's mysterious fog, undoubtedly, Ellen's blood ran cold as her skin shivered, jerking her head forward. Ellen shut her innocent blue eyes tightly as the night's horror was merely about to begin... 

Lock your doors, for a new terror is about to crawl out of the shadows and into our nightmares. Although this post is merely a short scene, it is a part of a much larger tale that will feature the blood sucking predator known around the world as The Vampire. Inspired by the golden era of silent horror cinema, such as Nosferatu and The Phantom Of The Opera, the main storyline will delve into the myths and nightmares whispered around the Catacombs of Paris.