M.J. Rose

Postcard no. 3
Postmark Paris, France 1894

“Following the trail of La Lune’s legend, we visited the Eiffel tower today. And learned there had been a tragic accident there earlier. It was the third such tragedy that year. We tried to imagine the tower without all the police and the reporters.

Cold, windy, rainy, there was nothing beautiful about the view. Instead it suggested an uncontrolled nastiness unleashed on Paris.

One of the reporters said there were witness who claimed that the elevator had stooped working ten minutes before the accident. Another said an elderly woman had stood close to the railing and laughed, shouting out at the sky, shrieking: “La Lune is shining, La Lune is shining.”

Beside us someone whispered that Sandrine knew what had happened. If we could find her we hoped Sandrine could explain this too. Even if she has never told anyone. Until now.”

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Postcard no. 2
Postmark Paris, France 1894

“We waited until midnight to visit the nightclub called Hell. We’d heard that they enacted rituals there. Deep underground, on certain nights of the week, it was said there was carnage. On other nights miracles were preformed.

Like everything else in Paris that year, the sexual innuendos that swirled were as powerful as the perfume the courtesans at the table next to us wore. The two women were both dripping in pearls, whispering and pointing. I looked at the man they were singling out. He was too thin and too ugly but he had the most brilliant blue eyes.

They said he had almost died and that a woman had brought him back from the dead and he was still under her spell. When I asked they who had that ability they said Sandrine knows… but has never told anyone.

That name again! Sandrine! Who is she? Where can we find her?””

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