In the Paris Catacombs
(A 100 word Story)
My tour is just 2,000 meters of the hundred kilometer labyrinth that forms this subterranean ossuary.
The tunnel walls are stacks of femurs, tibias, scapulas, interspersed with grinning skulls.
6 million dead unceremoniously disinterred, generation upon generation, from centuries ago.
Good, evil, male, female, pretty, ugly, aristocrat, artisan, everyone has attained an undignified égalité here.
I could laugh myself to scorn at this macabre absurdity. Not a ghost in sight, merely piles of bones!
Back in the land of the living, I emerge into the rush hour: busy throngs of stick people, all sharing the same destination.
Source of inspiration: "Graveyard Poets"
