Metamorphovirus

A 100 word story for Chuck Wendig's 100 word Flash Friday Fiction Challenge.  Check out his not so mild mannered blog and the other entries here.

Metamorphovirus

image copywrite Almacan

Sophie touched soft skin, felt the ganglion.  The boy grimaced, eyes shiny, tear-filled.  She smiled. He’s courageous.

Cry. No. Big boy, Joey thought, mummy said so.  He swallowed. Let the doctor palp his throat, shivered and hid his scaly feet.  Fever racked him.  The rash between his toes itched. reptilian scales advanced up his legs. Like mummy metamorphosed - a giant lizard, from feet up. 

It was metamorphovirus, some became reptiles, others rats or birds.  He’d heard of a girl who became a fish. Drowned on air.  The doctor smiled, unaware. Joey feared her reaction.  She’d lock him up.

Katherine Pancol- Les Yeux Jaunes des Crocodiles

The following passage on page 162 rings home - it is me.  If you can't read French ask your editor to translate this book, it's number one of a trilogy and will soon be a film with Julie and Gerard Depardieu.

Whoever does buy it and translate it will cash in, awesome read, great story that takes you away.  Pancol writes about those universal values that make stories unilateral and she is funny.  This passage isn't there to make you laugh, but bang...

Seul l'homme qui coïncide avec lui-même, avec sa trouvé intérieure, est un homme libre.  Il sait qui s'est, il trouve plaisir à exploiter de qu'il est, il ne s'ennuie jamais. Le bonheur qu'il éprouve à vivre en bonne compagnie avec lui-même le rende presque euphorique.

Rue Daguerre Saturday morning

It's Autum, grapes and the first clementine arrive.

 Oysters and

figs and berries abound.

Lobsters aren't cheap, this is Paris.

These must have been from yesterday, cooked, cut and stuffed.

Cèpes and girolle from France?  Maybe.

An espresso in the long shadows.

One of those big crabs

A Saint Piérre?

You know daguerrotype?  One of the first photographic processes?  Yes that derives from the name of Monsieur Louis Daguerre, he was an artist.  I wonder if someone told him he was crazy, don't do that, it's a bad idea, I wonder what he would have answered. Fuck off? Now there is even a Daguerreian Society.

  What would he think if he knew the Parisians would dedicate a street to him and it just turned into one of the best markets in town.

This fish doesn't look to appetizing with his exploded tongue.

Camembert yes.  Miam miam.

Sailboat on the Seine

Look at those locks maddened lovers clip onto these repoussé sculptures.  They probably toss the key in the river and vow passion, heart-splintering, gut-wrenching love. Until death do them part.  Fuck that! Look at that sailboat, how the hell did it get there?

Crazy. Walking across the Pont Alexander to get to the Palais de la Decouverte for an outing with my four year old to push buttons and watch electric fish do their gigs, we saw this two treed sailboat hanging out between the low stone bridges on the Seine.  How did that get there?  Only barges can float under those arches.

oysters and champagne

It's lunch time. A regular saturday lunch after the market. 

the oysters and crustaceans are from the rue Daguerre market.

Our neighbor brought the bubbles.