The lights of the city reflected in the dark sky of France, the people slowly filtering out of the streets and retreating home after the pass of the sun. A pleasant night for some, tragic for others.
The candle on the dining table flickered, disturbed by a small draft intruding from the slanted window across the room. It was a quiet night in Marseille, which I was becoming to admire the longer my stay here extended. The childhood memories that filled the streets of this town were distant, but I could still remember them fondly.
During summer break, I often came here to visit my Uncle Andre in his hometown, but as my Mum recently got a new job back in Vancouver, we decided it would be best if I lived with him for a while; as she would be busy. Not that I was complaining, Uncle Andre lives with his girlfriend Maria above their bakery; which makes the best pain au chocolat's in the world, as long as I was concerned. I'm content here. It's a rather tranquil town.
I was preparing for a late dinner, laying the white plates across the dining table and aligning the cutlery accordingly. I slumped down onto the chair, grabbing the tv remote to flick through the channels. Looking for something interesting to waste my time watching, which proved to be difficult as my poor understanding of the French language was not something to be proud of. Eventually I found myself pleased, settling down with an anticipated episode of The Bureau, which I could understand...to some extent.
It wasn't long before my uncle had emerged from his favoured kitchen, hands baring what looked to me like a feast. My mouth salivated at the sight of the steaming meat and potato salad, of course, accompanied by a vast selection of pastries. Who doesn't love a good pastry? I certainly do.
Maria joined us shortly after and we dug into my uncles creation from the kitchen. "Mon Dieu! This is delicious, Andre" Maria exclaimed; giving him a quick peck on the cheek, Andre then released a hearty chuckle, gratified with his work. My eyes drifted between the two and I smiled at the loving couple, it was nice to see my uncle so happy. Especially since he took a turn for the worst after the death of my father, so I was glad that he had grown so much since then. Maria is a delightful woman, uplifting to be around, it charmed me to think that my uncle was planning to propose soon.
Our peaceful candle lit dinner was then interrupted by an unexpected announcement on the television,
"Dernières nouvelles! L'infâme "Reaper" aurait assassiné le responsable de la coopération LMP plus tôt dans la soirée. Cela a maintenant révélé qu'il se trouvait en France, Nous craignons que cela ne provoque l'alarme-" The formally attired woman stated, she had a stern look on her face which frightened me, her eyes dark as the night sky- yet emotionless, her eyes lacking their stars.
"What? What's going on? What's she saying?" I Immediately questioned my uncle, eager to understand what was going on. "Apparently the chairman of LMP corporation was murdered earlier this evening," My uncle spoke with his mouth full, his familiar French accent rolling off his tongue, he then swallowed his food and continued, "Some guy named The Reaper did it. It doesn't matter, turn it off, it's disturbing to listen to when-". "WHAT?! The Reaper?" Practically jumping out of my seat, I slammed my hands on the table, startling my Aunt, "They're in France?". "Alora! S'il vous plaît, Remember your table manners." Maria retaliated. "Pardon Tata, but could you pass me the remote? I need to hear this!", Thankfully Maria complied with no complaints and handed the remote over.
Vigorously pressing on the volume button and turning on the subtitles, I zoned into the announcement carefully. The woman shuffled her papers, never breaking eye contact with the camera, I read aloud the translation on the screen, my excitement increasing after every word passed out of my mouth, "It is unknown why the chairman of LMP cooperation was targeted, but the public were quick to suspect that it was connected to the rumour of human trafficking revealed last week". She took a pause and then proceeded, "Police are at the scene looking for clues; once more, not even a trace is to be found. However, this incident again raises the question among the community, Does The Reaper do the work of evil, or justice? Protestors are-" My face dropped as the TV screen went static, eyes darting to my uncle, the culprit with the weaponised remote in hand. "Oncle! Pourquoi? It was getting good.." I pleaded, although, it was to no avail. "It's late, ma chérie, you have work in the morning. Quickly finish up." Marie offered an apologetic smile.
I sighed in defeat.
The clock hit 6am and war sirens boom around the bedroom, vibrating violently on my bedside cabinet. Slowly awakening from my desired slumber, I slap the 'stop' button on my phone; turning it off. Victory. "It's time to conquer already?" Stumbling out of bed I start to get somewhat ready for work. Surprisingly, I don't work in my uncle's Bakery. There isn't even a slight passion for baking in my soul, to my uncles dissatisfaction. What I enjoy is being a news reporter, like my dad was. Getting the latest details and reporting it to the world, it fascinates me.
Finishing the morning routine, accompanied by the orchestra of birds outside my window, I look at myself in the mirror and smile, another day to try and make history. Walking down to the bakery, I smell the sweet aroma of baked goods, it's time for action.
"That'll be my breakfast! Merci!" My hand snatches a pain au chocolat- hastily making my way to the door. "No! Mon bébé!" Uncle wails behind me, waving his rolling pin in exasperation. Pecking my aunts cheek, I succeed in escaping through the front door. Mission accomplished.
The hustle and bustle of Marseille floods my ears, the honking of cars, inaudible conversations, the ensemble of animal noises and the whizz of bicycles as they pass. I felt as though I could never take it all in, city life is exhilarating. How could I ever feel everything, hear everything, smell everything when it was all far too overwhelming? I don't think anyone ever would achieve such a thing.
However, despite my calculated conclusion, a pair of experienced eyes were watching every single move. Like a Lion on pride rock. A king on his throne.
A Reaper on a hunt.
YOU ARE READING
The Reaper
Mystery / Thriller"You are just too interesting to leave alone, Alora Rae"
