Paris

My Grandfather’s brother lived most of his life in Paris, France. On the few occasions I’ve met him, it was very clear that he was a disturbed individual with some sort of something bothering him all day and night. I figured he’d had a stroke or perhaps he was just plain senile. After a few meetings with my grandfather’s brother, I became curious. My grandfather hesitated to tell me the story, but I talked him into it.

Now it’s a well known fact that beneath Paris, there’s over 400 miles of ancient catacombs, going deep underground. It’s a subterranean labyrinth that many people have explored and got lost in. My Grandfather’s brother, Alex, had no plans of exploring the catacombs. He had recently graduated college and was engaged to his future wife. Things were going just swell for him.

Alex said that he was off to fetch some food for dinner and decided to try a different path to the store. He took a wrong turn, and kept going, and before he knew it he was lost in Paris. The next part was blurry. He was in a very shady neighborhood with very poor lighting. The last thing he remembers is walking to the side of the road for a smoke. Next thing he knew, he was in total darkness and up to his waist in water. He had fallen into a recently opened hole leading to the catacombs of Paris.

He’d noticed the passageways began leading downward, not what he wanted. Eventually he claims to have found a large empty room, he decided to rest there. He couldn’t sleep, and had lost almost all hope at this point. He was tottering on the edge of passing out, but he heard something. He (painfully) stood up, held his breath, and listened. He could hear footsteps and heavy breathing, what sounded almost like wheezing. He called out for help, and the footsteps and breathing stopped. The catacombs were deathly silent except for the occasional droplet of water. He stood like that for about an hour, listening for a response. Eventually the footsteps began again, and once again, he called out for help. This time he got his answer.

A scream rang out that he claimed to be too feminine to be a man and too deep to be a woman. The shriek was loud and lasted a long time. Beneath that he could hear the footsteps with increased tensity. He jolted up and ran away from the yell, blindly struggling through the catacombs. The scream didn’t seem to be getting any further, and he kept running for all his life, no matter how much it hurt to do so. Eventually the shriek faded, but the footsteps were as loud as ever. He ran through the catacombs for what he said seemed like hours, and eventually came across a ladder.

He climbed the ladder, and from what it sounded like, the mystery thing did not follow. He took out his lighter and shined it down to see what had been chasing him, but it moved away upon seeing the light, and Alex hauled ass up the stairs. He found a manhole, but it would not budge. He yelled and banged for a while, and eventually some passers-by heard him and the police came to his rescue. He was a good thirty miles away from his apartment, in a residential part of Paris.