tumbldown stories

The Town In Which Men Do Not Walk Out After Dark

(originally published October 2016)

"Faugh!" Guillaume exclaimed, tightening the knot of his cravat. "Nine o'clock! Never! Old wives' tales, and are you men that you can be ruled by such?"

Jean-Marc sipped at the dregs of his wine and laid his glass on the bar. "All the same, it will not do, my friend. This is not Paris, where anything goes. There are rules here, and if you don't keep the rules, you may well lose the favor of your lady-friend – and more besides."

"The devil do I care for that!" Guillaume cried, snapping his fingers. "La Elodie is my love, and she will do as she must to keep me – and she will. And if not, fie! There are enough beautiful maidens in this town."

Jean-Marc shook his head and picked up his re-filled glass. "So you can say, but I fear you will learn your lesson the hard way, my friend. The hour is late, and Amelie is out with her friends this evening; I go to my chambers, and hope I will see you in the morning."

Guillaume shook his hand at Jean-Marc as he strode to the door. "Old women – a town of young women and the old women who sit at their feet!" The door of the hôtel slammed shut behind him, and Jean-Marc considered his glass again in silence, shaking his head.

Nine o'clock! What a custom! No wonder the life was ground out of these men, made servants to their women! Guillaume shook his head disapprovingly. In the month that he had been living here, the rule had never made any sense – that after the stroke of nine in the evening, no man might show his face on the streets. Where he was, he had to stay – glum and alone in the tavern that his lady-friend inevitably deserted him from, or in her chambers until after breakfast if perchance she invited him to her rooms. It was the law of this town, an ancient custom ossified and fossilized into a useless mass of stone, and this stone weighed heavily on Guillaume's free and untrammeled spirit. Was he not a man? Then what did he care for rules!

He passed further along the street, and saw, in their singles and their bunches, the women of the town in their bright and gay frocks coming out to begin their night of revelry. Why on earth did the men of this town not take heart, and bring themselves to take part in the songs, the dances, the midnight walks? It was against all reason. Even so – the women barely noticed him as he came along the street, and in places he had to walk on the stones of the road rather than the pavements, thronged as they were with young women in brilliant bonnets of saffron and robin's-egg, paying no attention to the man in their midst.

On he went, further, and there he saw the one he was here to seek, his Elodie, hand in hand with a school friend or other copine, the one leaning into the other's shoulder, laughing without a care in the world. Guillaume strolled boldly to her across the square. "Elodie, my love!" he exclaimed, "tonight, you will see new things, and you will see them with me!"

She looked up at him, and her face fell. "My – my love," she began, "but this is unexpected – this isn't right. The rules, my darling – it is too late, and you won't be able to be indoors before the time."

"The devil do I care for rules!" Guillaume shouted. "Love does not care for rules – love enters, and paves its own way! I defy these ancient customs – they will not stand in the way of my love, my heart." He knelt on the pavement before Elodie, and raised her hand to his lips. From the church tower, high above the square, the ancient bronze bell began to toll the hour.

At the edges of his sight, Guillaume began to perceive the bustle of silks and linens retreating, the women noticing him for the first time and backing away, whispering to one another behind their fans. But it was not until Elodie pulled her hand away, her girlfriend clutching close and fearful at her arm, that the spell was broken. Guillaume looked up, his face burning. "You – even you – do you defy me – is this how little our love is worth –" He pushed himself hastily up to stand, red with anger, and realized, too late, that it was not at him that the women before him were looking, white with fear, as the echoes of the ninth and final chime faded away into nothingness.

Something slammed hard on the cobblestones of the square beside Guillaume like a bursting shell, and in a moment he found himself flying high in the air, wondering how this had come to be, what the meaning of those large and reddening holes smashed into his chest and stomach could be, at the peculiar feel of the wind against his face, suspended many meters above the church spire, and then the rush of air and what exactly that Thing was below him, with its impossible jaws open, gaping, into an arc of sharp teeth as wide as a man was tall.

The Thing caught Guillaume in its jaws and shook, then pinioned him to the ground with one of its hind legs, unable to bite all the way through and separate him into pieces small enough to swallow. As it ripped and twisted, another of the Things came into view, sniffing at his still-unmangled legs, and picked them up in its jaws as the first one crushed apart his torso, tilting its head back to swallow like a giant scaly bird.

Elodie watched, awestruck, unable to look away. It was not often that the Things came out – exactly as often, as a matter of fact, as some arrogant or ignorant man or overgrown boy broke the curfew – and even less often that they were seen, and seen with this kind of clarity, rather than as a splash of old blood on an invisible muzzle two storeys off the ground. Marguerite folded her hand about hers. "I'm sorry, love," she said, "but what could be done? The rules are the rules; the rules are the rules for a reason."

"Yes," Elodie said, nodding slowly, putting away her shock as the Things finished their meal and began to fade from view, "yes, it is so. And a man who breaks a rule just because he thinks it's silly, perhaps he will break other rules because he thinks he's more important. Perhaps, tonight, I've had a close escape."

Amelie hurried up from the crowd and took her other hand, pressing it to her breast. "Yes, Elodie, that's right; think about it like that. You'll do better, and for tonight, there is much better – there will be champagne and crêpes at the bistro on the sea-wall, and then, there is the gypsy orchestra on the hill, and we will dance under the stars until the dawn breaks! Come, let's go – we are here, and we are together, and the night is young!"

Elodie took a deep breath, then threw her arms around her friend's neck, smiling as she held her close. "Of course, ma cherie, of course. You are right – you are right – allons!"