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twispiteficTitle: The Angel
Author: Sasha Honeypalm
Fandom: Feminist Fairy Tales
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 676
Inspiration: Chapter 18, "The Gargoyle". Also (on a more pleasant note) a homeless guy I used to buy lunch for.
Summary: A blind beggar in Paris makes an unusual friend.
Pierre the blind beggar spent his days in front of the Clémence D'anges cathedral, in hopes that the worshipers would be moved to practice their Christian charity on him. Many seemed to have missed any sermons on helping the unfortunate; some went out of their way to insult him, and even kick him. But there was enough mercy among the congregation to survive. Deacon Antoine would sometimes even let him sleep inside on cold winter nights, and the Widow Collette would give him half a loaf of bread when she left on Sundays. In the evenings he would take the coin he'd collected and buy a small meal, then go to sleep behind the church.
One night, the street deserted, he sat and sang a hymn he liked to himself. Halfway through, he thought he heard another voice, quietly joining with his.
"Hello?" Pierre asked. "Is someone there?"
There was a pause. Pierre was beginning to think he must have imagined it, when the other replied. "I... am sorry, sir? Have I bothered you?" Oddly, the rough voice seemed to be coming from above his head; he hadn't realized Clémence D'anges had balconies.
"Bothered me? Not at all!" Pierre called to her. "An old man like me gets lonely, sleeping by himself in an alleyway. A bit of friendly company is never unwelcome. My name is Pierre, by the way."
"I am... Marie." (The voice was now right next to him; he wondered how she had gotten down from the balcony that quickly). "I am pleased to meet you, Pierre."
From then on, Marie was a frequent visitor. At first she just sang with him, but they soon found themselves spending their time talking. Marie would laugh and joke with him, share church gossip (she seemed to spend most of her time in Clémence D'anges), and keep his spirits up on bad days. And she asked about him. It was almost hard to remember his past- it had been so long since anyone had cared about him as Pierre Roche, son of Jacques Roche, and not just Pierre the Poor Blind Beggar. But he told her about his life, about growing up in Paris, his five sisters, his work as a carpenter, and the accident that had robbed him of his sight and livelihood.
He didn't know much about Marie. He'd gathered that she lived nearby, was poor herself ("I don't have any coins to drop in your cup," she'd shyly apologized one night), and was too timid to come out if the streets weren't completely empty. She seemed reluctant to answer personal questions, and he didn't press her.
One night, he was awakened by a kick in the ribs. "Where is it?" demanded a strange voice.
"Where is what?" quivered Pierre.
"The money you collected today."
"I- I spent it already, on my dinner."
"I don't believe you." Another kick. "Now, tell me where you hid it, or I'll- Dear God! Monster! Monster!" His assailant screamed, and ran off. Pierre curled up and wept, waiting for the beast to tear into his flesh.
"Pierre?" Pierre couldn't believe it. It was Marie's voice, raspy and hesitant. "Pierre? Are you all right? I... did he hurt you?"
"Marie? What are you doing here? There is- there is some sort of monstrous animal here, it might come back, you have to save yourself!"
"There isn't an animal."
"There was, it just attacked a man in front of me-"
"That wasn't an animal. That... that was me. I... am not human. I am a gargoyle from the cathedral." Before Pierre could protest the absurdity of that statement, he felt a gentle touch on his arm. He ran his fingers over the impossible stony hand, tracing the weathered rock of Marie's claws. "I am sorry. I should have told you I was a monster."
Pierre's blind eyes filled with tears. His world felt adrift- living gargoyles!- but he still knew one thing for certain. "You are no monster, Marie. You are my angel."
Author: Sasha Honeypalm
Fandom: Feminist Fairy Tales
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 676
Inspiration: Chapter 18, "The Gargoyle". Also (on a more pleasant note) a homeless guy I used to buy lunch for.
Summary: A blind beggar in Paris makes an unusual friend.
Pierre the blind beggar spent his days in front of the Clémence D'anges cathedral, in hopes that the worshipers would be moved to practice their Christian charity on him. Many seemed to have missed any sermons on helping the unfortunate; some went out of their way to insult him, and even kick him. But there was enough mercy among the congregation to survive. Deacon Antoine would sometimes even let him sleep inside on cold winter nights, and the Widow Collette would give him half a loaf of bread when she left on Sundays. In the evenings he would take the coin he'd collected and buy a small meal, then go to sleep behind the church.
One night, the street deserted, he sat and sang a hymn he liked to himself. Halfway through, he thought he heard another voice, quietly joining with his.
"Hello?" Pierre asked. "Is someone there?"
There was a pause. Pierre was beginning to think he must have imagined it, when the other replied. "I... am sorry, sir? Have I bothered you?" Oddly, the rough voice seemed to be coming from above his head; he hadn't realized Clémence D'anges had balconies.
"Bothered me? Not at all!" Pierre called to her. "An old man like me gets lonely, sleeping by himself in an alleyway. A bit of friendly company is never unwelcome. My name is Pierre, by the way."
"I am... Marie." (The voice was now right next to him; he wondered how she had gotten down from the balcony that quickly). "I am pleased to meet you, Pierre."
From then on, Marie was a frequent visitor. At first she just sang with him, but they soon found themselves spending their time talking. Marie would laugh and joke with him, share church gossip (she seemed to spend most of her time in Clémence D'anges), and keep his spirits up on bad days. And she asked about him. It was almost hard to remember his past- it had been so long since anyone had cared about him as Pierre Roche, son of Jacques Roche, and not just Pierre the Poor Blind Beggar. But he told her about his life, about growing up in Paris, his five sisters, his work as a carpenter, and the accident that had robbed him of his sight and livelihood.
He didn't know much about Marie. He'd gathered that she lived nearby, was poor herself ("I don't have any coins to drop in your cup," she'd shyly apologized one night), and was too timid to come out if the streets weren't completely empty. She seemed reluctant to answer personal questions, and he didn't press her.
One night, he was awakened by a kick in the ribs. "Where is it?" demanded a strange voice.
"Where is what?" quivered Pierre.
"The money you collected today."
"I- I spent it already, on my dinner."
"I don't believe you." Another kick. "Now, tell me where you hid it, or I'll- Dear God! Monster! Monster!" His assailant screamed, and ran off. Pierre curled up and wept, waiting for the beast to tear into his flesh.
"Pierre?" Pierre couldn't believe it. It was Marie's voice, raspy and hesitant. "Pierre? Are you all right? I... did he hurt you?"
"Marie? What are you doing here? There is- there is some sort of monstrous animal here, it might come back, you have to save yourself!"
"There isn't an animal."
"There was, it just attacked a man in front of me-"
"That wasn't an animal. That... that was me. I... am not human. I am a gargoyle from the cathedral." Before Pierre could protest the absurdity of that statement, he felt a gentle touch on his arm. He ran his fingers over the impossible stony hand, tracing the weathered rock of Marie's claws. "I am sorry. I should have told you I was a monster."
Pierre's blind eyes filled with tears. His world felt adrift- living gargoyles!- but he still knew one thing for certain. "You are no monster, Marie. You are my angel."
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Date: 2017-03-01 10:46 am (UTC)