The great forecourt of the Notre Dame glistened in the late night, the puddles illuminated by the gaslights and candleglow of nearby windows and the glow of a full moon in its zenith , in this mottled lighting the stone of its entrance spread like the sky itself. It is the transient hour the denezens of Notre Dame lay in its potent sleep. We pass through her doors , the very word Cathedral is born here, the seat of the bishop bares the name 'Catherdre' and its that very seat a feral cat named Avellino seeks respite and curls up in between Norturnal hunts.
A hundred and seventeen bishops presided in that chair and Avellino found no hardship or dis quite , unlike the pilgrims who hastened here to worship on its hard repentetive benches. "saint Denis would not have gods creatures miserable on its stone floors' This notion seemed to salve the scrap of consciousness Avellino seemed to sporadically maintain. The light from the westfront of the Cathedral spilled out upon the passage of stone and marble, and a small mouse scurried across the mosaic of glass reflecting on the floor. Her fur was cornlike in color, and stood momentarily on her hind legs taking in the splendor that surrounded her - this was foreign territory to her, for she had been freshly ushered out that morning from a patisserie where she enjoyed a quintessential feast for best part of a month until the bakers wife had pursued her with a sweeping brush and found herself scurrying through the foot fall and found safe haven in an empty confessional box and slept there until a growl from her stomach woke her and she felt safe to venture out. Aurette gazed upon the window, plunged into the sublime spectrum, she was transfixed . Paris, although renowned for its art and architecture , never prepares one, be it beast or man, for the beauty of a cathedral window in the dead of night.
Avellinos eyes snapped open wide, his sense of hearing was always on high alert, and in the cathedral , the acoustics of sound and stone made very little margin for error if a hunt was in the offing. He spotted her in immediately ,the masterpiece of colour and light made no cloak of safety for Aurette , who was in a hypnotic state of her surroundings.
The red velveted throne that held so much warmth and comfort was an excellent view point. The grandiose mahogany carved enclave served as a helpful spy post for the vermin that tarried around the high alter. Avellino, skilled in phantom movements made his way to the west front pews where it was pouncing distance of Aurette. There was something about this golden plump mouse that made him hesitate momentarily , despite the primordial need for a tasty supper. He marvelled at her. She was not like the usual flea infested rats or dowdy skinny mice that made for average sustenance. There was something unique about her, he admired her the way a connosieur would look upon a delicate crafted garnish for the meal in question.
Aurette looked upon the high ribbed vaulted ceiling in wonderment. How men reach such heights and how does stone not fall with its weight? But her thoughts of such momentous achievement hurtled her into a sense of terror, she looked immediately to her left, a pair of celedon eyes from the pew narrowed and she shot down the interplay of seating and columns. She scampered up low set steps near the front doors which were now closed securely from vagrants and godless thieves . She felt Avellino had somehow lost her in his pursuit but just to be sure she ran up the endless marble steps until she reached the zenith of what seemed to be a never ending race for her life. Her heart thumped and her breath battled for air. The little mouse found respite albeit momentarily, for Avellino was indeed in pursuit, with a langurous prowl of confidence and certainty her eyes met his again and the hunt was back on.
Aurette threw all her weight behind her , Trying to propel herself with each prance into a path of obstacles that, should Avelino come within any kind of life ending distance her survival instincts would give her a modicum of a chance. Aurette came face front to a sea of flutes from the cathedral organ , racing over the horizontal pipes it began to feel like she had entered a maze, not knowing where to go but twisting her route with every thump of her heart.
she eventually found what she estimated to be a haven of sorts, a tightly arranged pocket of flutes and pulleys that she imagined where connected to each other in order to make sound. Sound. That was the most important sensory awareness she needed right now. Although she could not see Avelino she sensed the ubiquity of the feline pursuant.
"Come sweet thing" Avellinos voice spiralled around the acoustics of the pipes and lent a dream like lilt to his voice.
"Surrender yourself to me and I vow you this,I shall make it quick and painless, you have put up a valiant attempt to avoid the inevitable but inevitable it is"
"Do not attempt to indicate that you have a benevolent side Chatte!! This is all a part of the dramatique non?' Aurette rilled her words forth rightly. A Pompous cat living in a cathedral with a god complex? How avant garde she thought sarcastically to herself - her French fiery temperament , for even a mouse, piqued.
"Oh mon petit souris, I do offer you benevolence, you are quite particular . I am used to seeing the most grisly looking vermin coming in here, the most uninviting looking meals you could possibly imagine, but when I seen your form, colour and appreciation for the rose window and the reflections that danced on the marble I knew you were something to be savoured in more ways than one cherie'
"You romance death?! Then answer me this, in your romance of my Sui generis Monsieur, why not let me go and avail of the vermin that nest here in every dark corner? I smell their presence, let me go and fest on these that you consume nightly' Aurette's self preservation was overwhelming her, she loathed rats at the best of times, classist although it seemed Aurette held acute distain for their ilk, they where the barbaric version of her kind.
"To put it into simple terms Cherie, you look delectable and I fear I shall never see your kind again and also taste. So I could never let you pass the main square again mon amour. I am too selfish for experience and I say that with a somehow heavy heart"
Aurette pondered momentary of the infatuation this cat seemed to insist upon her. None the less, the cat admitted openly to her that he did find her unique and in his confession this was the chink in his armour. Hesidency. He could have killed her at any moment when lurking in the shadows and yet did not. For whatever reasoning behind it she needed to take advantage of it, if that emotion was still lingering in there. She was aware of two possible options it seemed. Wait until morning in the hope of human presence and the music would repel his avidity or somehow make a bargain or win him over to release her from this Bastille of sorts.
"I can wait all night mon amour " He said gently and with certainty
"Do not call me that!, that word is exclaimed for affection and the only affection you have is for your stomach!"
"That is true petit souris, but I will relish you like no other, so there is affection for you, love comes in all forms, greed is one of them"
'How would you know what love feels like ? For you only serve yourself and love's foundations begin with altruistic traits?!"
"Tell me do you not have a propensity for the scraps from a rich mans table? The large crumble of creamy danablu from the knife that fell to the floor surely is more desirable than a crumb of stale bread when one is ravenous "?
'When one is ravenous , one is happy that food is in front of them for the taking regardless the taste, and bread and cheese have no life, no soul' Although this watery sounding argument to a predator made no true sense, she would not beg for her life as a last resort either.
"What memory, if you consumed me that is, would be left in its wake. for you I wonder?You are right! I am indeed unique, I have never seen a mouse my colour in all the time I have existed and I have built myself up nicely in a grand patisserie for over a month now, feasting on cheese infused breads, blackberry macaroons , mille-feuile and luscious mendiants. I am for a once in a lifetime elegance for the pallet but madness for culinary anamnesis '
Avellino contemplated this dauntless and somehow legitimate statement of Aurettes, the unfeigned reality of her words where indeed conceivable, armed with the information she had proffered would the memory of her drive him demented?
'I can stay here and waste away , and all the attributes that make you salivate for me will fade and I will become a ghost of myself in very little time' "what makes you think you are not in my grasp right now? I can see you there in the corner, arms folded, eyes speaking to the ceiling and your dainty mouth pursed in frustration. Aurettes eyes darted in every direction trying to quantify an avenue of a cats ability to penetrate the fluted vault she thought aptly be inviolable in a cathedral "we are at a bit of an impasse are we not? Surely if I was obtainable from this angle I would be dancing on your tongue with my sapidity? Either way I must be out of your reach" I have the ability to climb great heights , my agility and flexibility are owed to my unique spine, much like your own - flexible shoulders- tools to be highly efficient ' "ahh I can dislocate my jawbone which gives me the ability to squeeze into the tiniest of openings which fortunately gives me an advantage to home myself in the most fabulous places, like the Boulanger and Pâtisserie .
'Tell me more about this feast of a home you mentioned before?"Avelino was uncharacteristically quizzical about Aurettes history, he never had a conversation with his victims or meals rather. In actual fact he never held conversations with anybody, a solitary creature he kept communication to a daily morning mewling to the staff in the cathedral for a bowl of milk and scraps of saltfish in lieu of wages for keeping the vermin population low.. "it was something to behold' Aurette became unguarded and wistful " Monsieur Besson and his wife where artists, I would watch from afar as Madam Besson would pipe hazelnut moussdine cream into the Paris Brest, they would take pride of place amongst the puis d'amour, Raspberry tarts and rum baba's on the right of the window, whereas Mosieur Besson would fill his side with Viennoiseries, Brioche, san Pierre baguettes, Ancienne bread but it was the Curcuma that Parisiennes would flock to the shop and sold out time after time" " Curcuma?" Avelino tilted his head.. "walnut and hazelnut infused bread, an indulgence for customers mopping of sauce and soup according to the conversations that took place and francs where exchanged. There was a short window of time I could feast due to the Bessons working in the early hours of the morning. They kept the kitchen scrupulously clean , no other mouse or rat ventured in, I myself arrived there by accident. I came from Loiret where Monsieur Besson purchased his flour, I dropped from an oak beam into a bag of Farine du pain, the beam was where I viewed stray grains and memorised the geographic meal points for quiet moments in the millers daily grind, I knew I was traveling somewhere in the bag of flour, voices, changes of light, the horses whinnies and the swearing of the driver. I stayed there in the sack until midnight, petrified until the voices had gone and knawed my way out, I found a small crack in the corner of the mixing room that was Madam Bessons work area. She would place her wedding band in a small measuring cup high on a shelf for safety, First thing in the morning she would put it there and later retrieve it , that would be a signal that the days work was finished and once every now and again in the late evening she and Monsier Besson would stay up late and drink, sing to each other and laugh and dance, that seemed to be an eternity 'Aurette said with a small hopeless laugh. 'The sweepings would remain in the dustpan- split hazelnuts, large morsels of pie crust, the odd juicy sultana, dusted in flour and almond paste shavings. Needless to say that dustpan would be lighter by the morning. I would also wonder around the shop, I would sleep most of the day but in order to still fit into my safe haven in the corner I would race like fire was on my tail in the dead of night or it would be impossible to conceal myself if I continued to feast in the manner of which I was quickly becoming accustomed to . It was a rewarding lifestyle I have to say'
'That nightly constitutional seems to have paid off mon cherie, there are not many I have pursued that can circumvent so cunningly'
'And there are not many greedy individuals that have a constant supply of food and seeks out another source'
"have you ever wondered why men seek out treasures? There are individuals that make mimicry items, cups that look like gold but merely worthless, others seek gold out for the exclusivity and that is what you are to me'
'You speak of me as a prize , but a prize is to be cherished not destroyed because you fear it maybe coveted'
'You misunderstand, I already cherish you, I am cherishing your words, your memories but alas I cannot let you go through those doors to be a back alley cat snack, such a vagrant is unworthy!'
"An alley cat is has little chance of survival in comparison to a spoilt church feline as yourself and in that respect it is a more nobel death to have for the survival of another rather than base greed'
Both were quite for sometime, Aurette with frustration, Avellino deep in reflective contemplation. 'My world has only been of one window' Aurette jolted in the suddeness of his voice but was transfixed on the mystery of his initial statement. ' I have only known life in this place of worship and have but one memory of a monk gathering me in his robe, I was wet, cold to the bone and very young, how I was found in that retched state I shall never know but the kitchen and the cathedral are everything I have ever known'
'you have no recall of family or prehaps friends?' 'No I am very much a solitary being , even the kitchen hands and holy men who feed me I am indifferent to'
'Would you say you are obdurate to making any kind of bond to anyone'?
'Only with my food' Avellino replied in an attempt of humour' Strangely Aurette picked up on this and chose not to berate him on it. "it is a curious thing, almost foreign to me not to communicate, although living in the patisserie was a feast for the senses I missed my friends so much in the mill' Aurette picked up her enthusiasm with animation as she told Avellino of Armande the Vole, who would tell her fantastic stories he had overheard from the window of a school that was located by the waterside , and of Marco the one legged pigeon who was constantly avenging the millers son due to his fascination with a pea shooter and the clutch of animals that he chose to be cruel towards, such sporting humorous recollections she shared with him.
'I can stay here and waste away , and all the attributes that make you salivate for me will fade and I will become a ghost of myself in very little time' "what makes you think you are not in my grasp right now? I can see you there in the corner, arms folded, eyes speaking to the ceiling and your dainty mouth pursed in frustration. Aurettes eyes darted in every direction trying to quantify an avenue of a cats ability to penetrate the fluted vault she thought aptly be inviolable in a cathedral "we are at a bit of an impasse are we not? Surely if I was obtainable from this angle I would be dancing on your tongue with my sapidity? Either way I must be out of your reach" I have the ability to climb great heights , my agility and flexibility are owed to my unique spine, much like your own - flexible shoulders- tools to be highly efficient ' "ahh I can dislocate my jawbone which gives me the ability to squeeze into the tiniest of openings which fortunately gives me an advantage to home myself in the most fabulous places, like the Boulanger and Pâtisserie .
'Tell me more about this feast of a home you mentioned before?"Avelino was uncharacteristically quizzical about Aurettes history, he never had a conversation with his victims or meals rather. In actual fact he never held conversations with anybody, a solitary creature he kept communication to a daily morning mewling to the staff in the cathedral for a bowl of milk and scraps of saltfish in lieu of wages for keeping the vermin population low.. "it was something to behold' Aurette became unguarded and wistful " Monsieur Besson and his wife where artists, I would watch from afar as Madam Besson would pipe hazelnut moussdine cream into the Paris Brest, they would take pride of place amongst the puis d'amour, Raspberry tarts and rum baba's on the right of the window, whereas Mosieur Besson would fill his side with Viennoiseries, Brioche, san Pierre baguettes, Ancienne bread but it was the Curcuma that Parisiennes would flock to the shop and sold out time after time" " Curcuma?" Avelino tilted his head.. "walnut and hazelnut infused bread, an indulgence for customers mopping of sauce and soup according to the conversations that took place and francs where exchanged. There was a short window of time I could feast due to the Bessons working in the early hours of the morning. They kept the kitchen scrupulously clean , no other mouse or rat ventured in, I myself arrived there by accident. I came from Loiret where Monsieur Besson purchased his flour, I dropped from an oak beam into a bag of Farine du pain, the beam was where I viewed stray grains and memorised the geographic meal points for quiet moments in the millers daily grind, I knew I was traveling somewhere in the bag of flour, voices, changes of light, the horses whinnies and the swearing of the driver. I stayed there in the sack until midnight, petrified until the voices had gone and knawed my way out, I found a small crack in the corner of the mixing room that was Madam Bessons work area. She would place her wedding band in a small measuring cup high on a shelf for safety, First thing in the morning she would put it there and later retrieve it , that would be a signal that the days work was finished and once every now and again in the late evening she and Monsier Besson would stay up late and drink, sing to each other and laugh and dance, that seemed to be an eternity 'Aurette said with a small hopeless laugh. 'The sweepings would remain in the dustpan- split hazelnuts, large morsels of pie crust, the odd juicy sultana, dusted in flour and almond paste shavings. Needless to say that dustpan would be lighter by the morning. I would also wonder around the shop, I would sleep most of the day but in order to still fit into my safe haven in the corner I would race like fire was on my tail in the dead of night or it would be impossible to conceal myself if I continued to feast in the manner of which I was quickly becoming accustomed to . It was a rewarding lifestyle I have to say'
'That nightly constitutional seems to have paid off mon cherie, there are not many I have pursued that can circumvent so cunningly'
'And there are not many greedy individuals that have a constant supply of food and seeks out another source'
"have you ever wondered why men seek out treasures? There are individuals that make mimicry items, cups that look like gold but merely worthless, others seek gold out for the exclusivity and that is what you are to me'
'You speak of me as a prize , but a prize is to be cherished not destroyed because you fear it maybe coveted'
'You misunderstand, I already cherish you, I am cherishing your words, your memories but alas I cannot let you go through those doors to be a back alley cat snack, such a vagrant is unworthy!'
"An alley cat is has little chance of survival in comparison to a spoilt church feline as yourself and in that respect it is a more nobel death to have for the survival of another rather than base greed'
Both were quite for sometime, Aurette with frustration, Avellino deep in reflective contemplation. 'My world has only been of one window' Aurette jolted in the suddeness of his voice but was transfixed on the mystery of his initial statement. ' I have only known life in this place of worship and have but one memory of a monk gathering me in his robe, I was wet, cold to the bone and very young, how I was found in that retched state I shall never know but the kitchen and the cathedral are everything I have ever known'
'you have no recall of family or prehaps friends?' 'No I am very much a solitary being , even the kitchen hands and holy men who feed me I am indifferent to'
'Would you say you are obdurate to making any kind of bond to anyone'?
'Only with my food' Avellino replied in an attempt of humour' Strangely Aurette picked up on this and chose not to berate him on it. "it is a curious thing, almost foreign to me not to communicate, although living in the patisserie was a feast for the senses I missed my friends so much in the mill' Aurette picked up her enthusiasm with animation as she told Avellino of Armande the Vole, who would tell her fantastic stories he had overheard from the window of a school that was located by the waterside , and of Marco the one legged pigeon who was constantly avenging the millers son due to his fascination with a pea shooter and the clutch of animals that he chose to be cruel towards, such sporting humorous recollections she shared with him.
