Fox is often associated with a kind of cold cunning, isn’t it ? A somewhat sly figure who makes moves in secret, and steals the shepherdess’s sheep under the cover of night… Fox is also linked to the criminal, or to someone about to pull off a spectacular and perfectly well-executed bank heist, for example…

His accomplice parks a block away from the bank in question. The van isn't even registered, but it doesn't matter ; the police, as if by chance, are busy patrolling elsewhere. Accompanied by another one of his comrades, they get out of the vehicle, ski masks under their leather jackets. They enter the vestibule, and all their movements, from the finger pressing the button to the opening of the safe, are synchronized down to the millimeter. One of them yells at the customers in the lobby not to make a move, a voice changer in hand. Everyone panics, and breathless, stunned, they comply. In such a situation, of course, no one allows themselves the slightest deviation, and mental illnesses, strong personalities, and other peculiarities instantly fade away. Survival instinct and stress take precedence over everything else. Everyone has their hands and heads pressed to the ground, as requested by the fox. Gucci and LC Waikiki coats get tangled, indifferent to social status. Even sometimes, legs and arms touch each other on the shiny floor of the bank. The lights reflect off it and make you see the world in a different perspective. The field of vision is largely restricted and the throat tightens. The reception agent slowly raises their hands to the sky. It's almost theatrical. Then, the fox enters the director's office that the agent indicated to them, after passing through a long corridor adorned with a warm, thick carpet, thicker than the one found near the offices of ordinary bank advisors and other traders who operate behind the scenes. The surveillance cameras must not give anything away. He asks the director for the codes, a revolver in hand, but he already knows them. Besides, how could he remember them all ? It's almost not believable, but never mind, it will do the trick. The other of the foxes is still waiting for him in the entrance hall, watching the customers' every move, who must keep calm. No more than two minutes later, they come out quietly, and the van, after picking them up, does not even increase speed. And for good reason, because the action had been prepared and even rehearsed a few days before the heist, in the presence of the gray eminence who needs a certain sum of money to, let's say, win a presidential election, for example ?

With the fox, nothing is left to chance, and he knows how to maintain a stoic expression no matter what happens, so as not to reveal any conflicting emotions. Anyways, he knows he will never be troubled. He knows that a private jet will be waiting to take him to Panama or Thailand once his mission is complete.

But the fox standing in front of me this morning in the middle of the bush, just steps from the clearing, is anything but stoic. It thinks that because it is hidden, watching me from a thicket, I do not see it. It is alone, as if abandoned in the middle of nowhere, and looks at me with a dazed expression, a mix of fear and repulsion. The animal has probably not been weaned, and like any creature left to fend for itself too soon, he doesn't yet have enough discernment to distinguish what is a predator and what is not. Smart, it will become even more so than its peers, who did not have to grow up too quickly. But for now, I am the one who have the upper hand.

 Il avait une façon de se mouvoir dans la vie, 

Comme se meut un papillon, du bout des ailes.

Abordant les situations, les occasions, les problèmes, 

Un peu comme l'oiseau se poserait sur son nid :

Avec application, mais sans frénésie !

Avec une implication empreinte de vie.

Des questions, il doit s'en poser un paquet, 

Il n'a simplement pas besoin de le montrer. 

Désinvolte, ça n'est pas le mot. 

Car c'est souvent celui auquel on associe "salaud". 

Il vient vous cueillir, le sourire aux lèvres. 

Pas un sourire carnassier, ni un sourire mièvre. 

Un sourire qui te dit : "Je t'accueille, dans ton altérité". 

Un sourire qui ne juge pas, ni ne prie, 

Pour une autre réalité. 

Aérien, il l'est aussi dans sa démarche, 

Toujours un peu dansante, 

Toujours un peu exubérante,

Serpentant au grès des rencontres, 

Qu'il veut toujours garder superficielles.

 

Sa façon à lui peut-être de se protéger, 

Il invite à un dialogue bienveillant, mais toujours, 

Toujours léger. 

Il se meut dans la vie comme un oiseau, 

Il a ce quelque chose de plus qu'humain, 

Cette innocence venue d'on ne sait où,

Créature versatile, 

Semblant ne pas redouter le monde du monde un jour, de tomber de haut. 

 Aujourd’hui est un jour de grand soleil, 

Un jour où les rayons te pénètre, sans pareil. 

Le soleil, stoïque, fidèle à lui-même, 

Fait danser les éléments de la vie, 

Une jolie cosmogonie.

Fait danser toute particule subatomique dans son sillage, 

Aujourd’hui est un jour de grand mirage.

Soleil baignant notre astre et toutes ses prodigieuses créatures, 

Soleil, baignant inlassablement,

le lion, la biquette, l’homme, une drôle d’aventure. 

Arche de Noé baignée de lumière, 

Lumière, alpha et oméga de notre Terre.

Notre soleil, qui êtes aux cieux, 

Délivrez-nous du pâle. 

Car sans lumière, pas de couleurs, et pas de vie. 

Sans lumière, tout est un peu livide, un peu sale, un peu meurtri. 

Guide ultime de tous les êtres, 

Horloge fatale de notre système hormonal. 

Aujourd’hui est un jour de grand soleil, 

Mais elle, le regard dans le vide, s’interrogeait sur sa place dans ce bordel. 

Est-ce que la fleur se demande pourquoi elle est fleur ? 

Est-ce que le lion s’interroge sur sa peur ? 

Tous ne sont mués que par l’élan de vie. 

Mais l’humain souvent, se sentant trop petit, 

Se laisse absorber par les vicissitudes de son bel esprit.

 
A paintball game so early in the morning in the middle of nowhere hadn't exactly thrilled me. For me, Sunday was reserved for rest. But Sacha had insisted so much that I'd said yes. However, to avoid having to get up, I told him I'd prefer we camp there, meaning in the forest, so we could have a campfire and, I confess, party while waiting for the other participants the next morning. To be honest, I didn't know this forest at all. It was further away from where we usually played paintball in the afternoon, I should point out…

After parking on a median strip, we unloaded the car to take the tent and sleeping bags. The weather was very nice that day, even though 15 kilometers away, that is to say near my place, it was pouring rain, so we even wondered if it was worth it, if we shouldn’t just cancel this paintball session ! But then, we decided to give it a try anyway… And not only turned the weather very nice at the moment we entered the clearing, -like it was somehow calling us- but I immediately noticed upon entering there that all the smells were heightened, as if the rain had passed through, while it was totally dry. I also noticed that the birdsong and sounds, whether the rustling of leaves or the whispering of the wind through the ferns, were amplified as well… As if speakers had been placed in the trees. Yet, there were none, I made sure by scrutinizing their trunks… Their sizes were enormous, and I realized that I had to lift my head to the sky to make out their tops. But maybe I was just hallucinating here ? Their colors were vivid, so vivid that one would have felt immersed in a painting. Even the earth seemed more alive, with its brown color whose depth also left me perplexed, so vibrant it was. I picked up a handful to test that it was really real... Without a doubt, it was, caressing my palm with its fine grains. At its touch, I shivered : It was as if the earth was soaking into me. Everything was indeed more real here. My heart leaped in my chest. Where were we ? Was I a victim of some sort of hallucination ?

I didn’t take long to ask my friend the question. He didn’t really understand the situation either, I could see it on his puzzled face. 

- Have you noticed how everything is… I stammered, as we were on a trail for barely 15 minutes. I didn’t have the words to describe this place that was both sensational and, in a way, frightening. 

- Yes, I know what you mean… My friend murmured in turn, his eyes turned towards the sun. Even the sun is more…Brighter than elsewhere.

- Yes, you said it… He was even shielding his eyes with his hands to protect them. 

For myself, I didn’t need to do that, but it was, let’s say, borderline. It’s as if everything we had experienced until now hadn’t been real, hadn’t really existed… 

- What can we do ? Everything is strange here… Vibrant, but strange.

- Maybe it's simply because we've never been here before, to this forest… You know, a bit like when you arrive in another country. Even the most ordinary things seem strange.

- So you think it's safe to continue ? I was asking him the question indirectly. In fact, I felt like I was asking more to reassure myself than anything else.

- Yes, I think this forest isn't any different from any other. We're just a little overwhelmed to be in a different place, and at a different time than usual…

Something in his gaze betrayed a certain circumspection. He himself didn't seem entirely convinced by his argument, but it was as if I wanted to believe him. Nevertheless, I followed Sacha, as I had always done ever since we started playing paintball. I confess I hadn't known my friend to be so philosophical… He, who was always so pragmatic, seemed to be in a kind of observational state, even a little hypnotic one. So we decided to continue. A decision all the more incoherent as night was well beginning to fall. The shadows of the trees, which already seemed to me to be of a height I couldn't quite grasp, stretched across the clearing, making their size even more impressive. And the setting sun was casting its last golden halos on their trunks. It was both grandiose and terrifying, simply because it heralded… Night.

Perhaps it was simply curiosity that guided our steps, after all, both fascinated and in a certain denial of the strangeness of the situation… I don't know. In any case, as we advanced into the forest, our smartphones in hand, I swore the landscape had begun to change. Yes, change. So much so that after a good hour's walk, I had to admit it.

- Sacha, don't you see that the vegetation seems to be… different ? I stopped abruptly to speak to him, my voice firm.

- Different from what ? I don't really know what you're talking about !

- But come on, you can see that we've had to use knives to clear a path this whole time, can't you ? There are vines everywhere, you just don't realize it because I'm the one cutting them ! I raised my voice even more, irritated by his nonchalance.

- Well, sorry I didn't bring a Swiss Army knife like you, I didn't think that… He snapped, ironically.

- What ? I cut him off mid-outburst to make him face his responsibilities.

- That it would be such a hassle to get there…

- There you go, you're finally saying it ! After struggling for over an hour…

- What ?

- That it wasn't a good idea to go there !

- Look, it’s not the right time to split up… He looked at me with that slightly serious expression he always had before starting a game. Because he didn't just organize them… He led them too.

- Still, I shouldn't have listened to you, I said under my breath, just to make a point.

- Actually, we'd be better off using our energy to figure out how to get back. Because the noise I heard earlier was unlike anything I've ever heard…

- But what do you mean ? I haven't heard a thing...

- Well, nothing I know about the animal world, you know...

- Damn it, Sacha, why didn't you tell me anything ? And how long ago was that ?

- I don't know, about ten minutes, I'd say… It sounded like a neigh, but with some kind of machine noise over it…

- Oh, damn… Well, you're the one with the map, you know. You're the organizer. Look where we are now… And where's the paintball field we're meeting tomorrow ?

- Yes, that's what I'm going to do… But take responsibility anyway ! I didn't force you to come with me, you know… You're the one who agreed to what I said about that goddamn forest !

He was completely contradicting himself now, and I could hear the stress in his voice, him, who was usually so calm and level-headed. He was kind of our guide at this paintball club… He took out his smartphone to check the map. And I could see through the light of his headlamp that my friend was fainting. Seeing his bewildered expression, I asked him what was wrong.

- I don't understand. Just a little while ago, everything seemed to indicate that we were heading straight to that field, along the main path that leads there… And now, what ? Well, nothing. I mean, I don't recognize anything on the map anymore. And on top of that, look at the names that appear on the map… He handed me his smartphone, his eyes now horrified. 

- But, these aren't English names ! 

- Well no… I could now see his hands trembling, trembling so much that he dropped his smartphone. I was the one who quickly picked it up, trying as best as I could to regain control of this damn situation. 

- Well, anyway, the question isn't even about where we are, but about getting back to where we came from. 

- Yes, you're right… So we just need to turn back. Luckily, the path we've been following from the start still go straight ahead…

- You're forgetting something, my dear friend… I said to him, handing him a vine I had cut myself. His eyes widened in fear, and distress was clearly visible in his pupils. It was as if the vines I had been cutting for an hour had all regrown, completely blocking the path we had taken. I was the one who had to take matters into my own hands now.

- But the vines…

- Seem to regrow. Otherwise, we wouldn’t have any trouble turning back ! I retorted.

We looked at each other through the pale beams of our headlamps. Clearly, we were doomed. And as if our fear had been heard, we heard a beastly noise coming from the bushes, or rather from the tangle of vines that now surrounded us and seemed to move slowly in front of our eyes, making a rustling sound that resembled a kind of hissing. But this roar had something mechanical about it that made it anything but… organic. What to do now ? Now that we were right in the middle of this forest and isolated from the path we had taken an hour earlier ?

The vines seemed to be gaining ground… They were slowly but surely advancing in our direction. And as they reached the tree in front of us, without thinking further, I leapt toward it—leaving on the ground, like surrendering arms, the heaviest items, namely ammunition and sleeping bag—and began to grab its bark, which was thick enough for me to catch the surface of the tree, quickly enough with my sneakers to avoid falling into the abyss along the way… It was as if I had transformed into some sort of squirrel or cat that, fierce, would take on the challenge of running with such ease. Yet I had no claws, and so after two endless minutes of literally doing everything I could not to fall, I finally managed to reach a first branch. Except that this one, too thin, snapped under my weight and I momentarily lost my balance before grabbing onto another, at the last moment. My headlamp, fortunately, had illuminated it… as well as a spider, calmly settled between two trees, whose body was perhaps five times the size of the tarantulas I had seen on television shows. It had an elongated, spectral body, whose white glowed under the beam of my lamp.

A shiver ran down my spine, but it was certainly not the time to falter, so I grabbed that branch, which had seemed much thicker than the other one, and went all out : I hoisted myself up with all my weight to reach it and literally rested on it, like a roast on a spit ! To be honest, I was out of breath and frozen with fear, which didn’t help. I needed to regain my composure. But it seemed that this branch could hold… It seemed sturdier than I had thought. So I allowed myself a brief pause, and a smell of blood caught my attention. Reflexively, I lowered my head, and that’s when my lamp illuminated my hands : They were literally in tatters. Flesh was hanging, the scratches left by the bark were so deep... A sharp, piercing pain also stung me, now that I had seen the extent of the damage. No matter ; at that very moment, it was indeed the survival instinct that took over. So I decided to keep going before it got the better of me. I was still very close to the ground, and I still had a long way to go to the top of the tree where perhaps… I would find shelter.

However, something else caught my attention this time. A swallowing sound, as if someone were greedily chewing something very hard, with a ferocity that one could have compared to voracity. The sound came from just below me, a few meters away. But where was my friend, after all, where was Sacha ? Now that I was regaining my senses a little, and momentarily out of danger, I began to seriously wonder. It was clear that he hadn't followed me on this crazy adventure, the one of climbing this seemingly endless tree...

I finally looked at the ground -or rather I dared- and the violence of the spectacle I saw was forever embedded in my retina. My friend was being devoured alive in front of me by black and shiny things whose shape I did not recognize. Sort of shadows with not very well-defined contours that slowly activated upon him, making him disappear piece by piece. Telling the truth, all that remained was the bust. As for the head... I hardly recognized it. Not because I was too high to see it, no, but because it was distorted ; as if it had been pre-digested before being ingested by these things. Certainly too busy saving my skin, I hadn't even heard him scream, shame on me !

Instinctively, I resumed the climb toward the sky, undoubtedly my only salvation. And the fact that every finger pressed into the bark, as painful as it could be, moved me a little further away from those things, was reason enough to keep going, again and again, ignoring the pain, which gradually and almost completely faded under the intense stress, and above all, behind the one thing that mattered at that moment : life.

This tree seemed to rise all the way to the moon, which that night was bathed in a kind of thick mist I had never seen before… Yes, the moon was in the water and cast its pale blue light on the foliage, whose mass was gigantic. What kind of tree on Earth could plunge so deeply into the sky ? It simply wasn't possible, and I wondered again if all of this was simply the product of my imagination.

Sometimes, I would get lost in this foliage because it was so dense, and there were times I could feel creatures entering my sealed suit through the neck. I could feel them crawling along my spine, but I didn’t have time to chase them away. Sometimes also, I would get stung by one of them. The pain could be quite sharp, but I concluded that if I was still alive, it meant they must be harmless in some ways. Still, I was starting to feel weakened, and my vision would sometimes become blurry… And then, to make things worse, as I gained altitude, the air became colder and drier, and the oxygen seemed to thin, making it hard for me to catch my breath. Luckily, the clothes I was wearing protected me, as did the hot sweat now coursing through my body, dripping everywhere… After a while—I couldn't say exactly how long, because it seemed endless to me, but let's say for sure a few hours—climbing from branch to branch, or rather, by the end, dragging myself, I reached not the top of the tree, but a spot from which I could make out the surroundings… Yes, more than my own fear, I wanted to understand where I was.

The sun was beginning to rise, and it was no different from the sun my friend and I had experienced, as we were already trapped in this nowhere place ! A sun more vibrant and brighter than the hottest sun in the tropics. A sun whose intensity was already starting to become overwhelming. This tree towered far above most of those around it, so much so that I could see stretches of this environment that, surely, could not belong to anything earthly : before me, another world stood. A world where, certainly, everything was amplified in size, color, and intensity, colors of which some, upon closer inspection, had until now been unknown to humankind. And I could also make out, in the distance, dwellings, right in the heart of this forest that seemed to stretch endlessly toward the horizon. They were like beehives, which even though they were at some distance from me, must have been a good hundred meters high. The fields surrounding them swirled in spirals near their edges, with sometimes signs of complex geometry that I could make out here and there… It reminded me of the crop circles I had seen in some movies.

It was hard to see clearly because of the blinding light already pouring into my eyes, but I had the presence of mind to keep my backpack with me, in which there was a pair of binoculars for our paintball game. For sure, that would take place without me, and even less so that of my friend. Like a squirrel among many others on its branch, perched on this bridge between sky and earth, I scanned this new world of giants, both majestic and inhospitable, which I had not chosen. I, who sometimes already struggled to feel my existence in the world, felt myself becoming a mere signifier. So small, and with no reason to be. More than physical pain, it was the pain of uncertainty that gripped my heart. That night, I had not slept with my friend under the tent about thirty miles from home ; and even less in my bed, which perhaps, in this other dimension, did not even exist anymore ? Last night, I hadn’t slept at all, and I didn’t even know where I was. I no longer had a past, in this world far too big for me, this world to which I didn’t belong, and even less a future.

 Arbres mordorés, horizon embrumé, 

A travers la fraîcheur matinale, 

J’entends l’appel de l’automne. 

Il n’est pas bien sonore, mais il assomme. 

C’est quelque chose de doux comme un murmure, 

un crépitement près de l’oreille.

C’est quelque chose de sourd, 

Comme une hésitation dans votre sommeil.

Je lève les yeux au ciel lorsque 7 heures sonnent. 

L’automne me rend toujours plus mou, 

Un peu fatigué, fatigué de tout… 

Un état de sommeil paradoxal, 

C’est cool, mais un peu bancal. 

L’automne n’annonce pas que l’hiver. 

Il recèle une espèce de romance un peu mélodramatique. 

Les courges parsèment le potager.

Leurs feuilles bouclées se disséminent,

courent en étoiles le long des rangées.

Cendrillon arrivera bien au château, on vous le dit ! 

Mais peut-être un château… Un peu décrépit. 

L’automne et son air de ne pas y toucher… 

Après les fulgurances de l’été. 

Il est temps de rentrer en soi, 

On dresse déjà le bilan des moments passés 

et autres occasions manquées…

Les fantômes ne sont pas forcément là où on le croit. 

Viennent trouver un écho en nous fantasmes et regrets, 

Se rappelant à notre bon souvenir. 

Automne, 

Et il suffit d’une pensée pour tressaillir. 

Samhain, renamed "All Hallows' Eve" by the Catholic Church in the 7th century, meaning "All Saints' Eve," originally comes from Celtic and pagan culture… Yes, my dear Muggles, it means something other than eating skull-shaped pizzas. It is, in fact, a period of transition, heralding the end, the death of a cycle initiated by winter, and the beginning of renewal. However, make no mistake, it is also a period known for being particularly porous. Yes, porous. Because it is a time when the boundary between the world of the dead and the living shrinks, or even, in some cases—and this is what I am going to tell you about here—becomes nonexistent… And in such cases, spirits who have not yet found peace in the light make themselves visible. Much like Jack O’ Lantern, who, failing to be admitted to heaven and hell, is forced to wander forever on earth, with a lantern carved from a pumpkin in his hand as his only companion.

Know, dear Muggles, that a young girl has a habit of standing at the end of the driveway leading to an abandoned castle, facing the road. This girl, whose name could never been revealed, always asks anyone who stops to give her a ride… And when the driver asks her where she wishes to go, she invariably replies, wearily :

“ I’ll go in your direction. That is to say, to infinity. ” All the while, she makes sure to look him straight in the eye to remind him of his crime. 

His crime ? But what crime, you might ask ? The story goes that the driver stared at her, a little bewildered, then, faced with the young woman's silence, decided it might be best to help her after all, and that he would take her on board anyway, for, let's say, a fee. The young woman fell asleep in the seat for several minutes, then several hours…

But as the hours passed, the driver began to imagine strange things. At first, it was just a thought. One of those fleeting ideas that crosses your mind, like a shiver down your spine. You glance at the passenger out of the corner of your eye, her hands folded in her lap, her breathing slow, almost childlike… She was sleeping so soundly, so vulnerable.

“She won’t realize it.”

The thought takes root. Then it grows in your mind…

You tell yourself you're just going to check something… It's harmless, that's all. It's not serious. Slipping your fingers into the slightly worn pocket of his coat, just to see…

Just a glance, you know, like lifting a corner of a curtain out of curiosity. Just in case… Just in case there are crumpled bills, a forgotten ring, a wallet ?

“Go on. It's just to see…”

Enough to make you think that this night won't have been a complete waste. Your fingers tremble, but something compels you to take the risk. And besides, deep down, it's exciting, isn't it ? Anyway, no one will know, right ? And then… And then, you go further. Always further.

“What if…”

What if she had more than money ? What if, beneath that white dress too big for her, beneath that skin as pale as wax, there was something else to take ? Something more intimate ?

Then you feel your throat tighten. And your heart pounds against your ribs. No. Of course not ! You're not that kind of person… But are you ?

After all, it's so easy… And besides, no one's ever caught you, until now. Those little lies, those betrayals, those times you turned a blind eye when you should have acted. Maybe you've even already done the unthinkable ? But no one knows. No one knows. No one ever will.

You glance in the rearview mirror. Who's watching you ? Only your own reflection stares back, a little blurry, a little alien, if you know what I mean.

"Come on. Just to see how far..." Your fingers brush against her shoulder. Her skin is icy. As if the life force in her body has dissipated. As if she were already...

But then, as you move closer to touch her, something inexplicable happens. The hitchhiker simply vanishes at your touch, dissolving into the night, returning to the other side of the mirror. Understand the spirit world.

But how could she have vanished into thin air like that, the bitch ? Disappointed, you set off again for several minutes, and then for several hours. But you always end up back at the same starting point : that castle. That cursed castle ! Exhausted from the drive and at your wit's end, kilometer after kilometer, unable to find your way, you finally reach this conclusion, this one and only possible conclusion : you've been going around in circles for a whole day now, and perhaps for eternity.

Of course, you don't quite understand what's happening to you, fuming at your dashboard, losing your temper, thinking you're having hallucinations here, or who knows what… You blame the night, the fog, fatigue… The whole world ! But that's because you don't know you're cursed. Yes, cursed. Cursed for something terrible you thought you could sweep under the rug, hide from your loved ones, from society forever, just like that, casually… Something you thought you could indefinitely evade responsibility for. But who said that justice wouldn't come for you one day, on the side of the road, opposite Saint-Blancard Castle, in the dead of night ? Huh, who ?

Perhaps on this Samhain night, when worlds brush against each other, you weren't dealing with an ordinary passenger. Perhaps it was… A border, instead ? No, she's not looking to be saved. She's bringing you back to the starting point. To YOUR starting point. To the exact spot where you thought you'd sown your responsibility, buried in the undergrowth of oblivion… But in this world, nothing is ever forgotten and every debt must be paid.

 I approached the window to admire the large storefront of a joke shop. It was located in the heart of the city center, on one of the main arteries. But, to my great surprise, I had never seen it before. I, who loved to wander the streets and abandoned sites in search of new things to discover… It seemed to be at least four stories high. But why was a joke shop so big ? What was there to sell that took up so much space ? Strange, I would have heard about it on some website dedicated to urbex if this store existed, right ? Still, the colors of its facade were dull and the sign seemed decrepit. But it also had something elegant and old-fashioned about it, with its sculpted cornices and its wide marble staircase… I really wanted to go and have a look around this large store that seemed to appear out of nowhere, but I decided to linger at the window before taking the plunge… Je m’approchais de la vitrine pour admirer la grande devanture d’un magasin de farces et attrapes. Il se situait en plein cœur du centre de la ville, dans l’une des artères principales. Mais, à ma grande surprise, je ne l’avais jamais vu auparavant, moi qui aimait tant arpenter les rues et les sites abandonnés à la recherche de nouvelles choses à découvrir…  Il semblerait qu’il s’étalait sur au moins quatre étages. Mais pourquoi un magasin de farces et attrapes était-il si grand ? Qu’avait-on à vendre là-dedans qui prenne autant d’espace ? Étrange, j’en aurais pourtant entendu parler sur un site dédié à l’urbex si ce magasin existait, non ? Toujours est-il que les couleurs de sa façade étaient ternes et que l’enseigne semblait décrépite. Mais elle avait aussi quelque chose d’élégant et d’un autre âge, avec ses corniches sculptées et son large escalier de marbre… J’avais bien envie d’aller y faire un tour, dans ce grand magasin qui semblait tomber de nulle part, mais je décidai de m’attarder sur la vitrine avant de franchir le pas…

This year, it seemed they had gone all out for Halloween... A magnificent black goat with shiny fleece must have taken up a third of the window display, and yet, it was vast ! An inverted pentagram adorned its forehead and white candles surrounded it. Its horns stood out against the orange background, representing a misty plain dotted with pumpkins. A blood-red moon cast an unreal light over the moor. This decoration wasn't just a print that had been delivered for the occasion, no. It was actually something painted... I moved closer to see more clearly. Despite the distance separating me from it, I could clearly see a painting ; a real life-size handmade painting... Cette année, on dirait qu'ils avaient fait fort, pour Halloween... Un magnifique bouc noir à la toison luisante devait bien prendre le tiers de la surface de la vitrine. Un pentacle inversé ornait son front et des bougies blanches l’entouraient. Ses cornes se découpaient sur le fond orange, représentant une plaine embrumée parsemée de citrouilles. Une lune rouge sang projetait une lumière irréelle sur la lande. Ce décor n’était pas simplement un imprimé qu’on avait fait livrer pour l’occasion, non. Il s’agissait en fait de quelque chose de peint… Je me rapprochais pour y voir plus clair. Malgré la distance qui me séparait de lui, je pouvais bien apercevoir un tableau ; un véritable tableau grandeur nature fait main…

Cobwebs, of course, framed the window. But something caught my eye... These cobwebs weren't the kind of white plastic molasses

you find in all joke shops. These cobwebs were... Real ! Even more real because spiders, in fact, were wandering here and there,

calmly, as if the store hadn't been cleaned for ages ! Strange, all the same. Des toiles d'araignée, bien sûr, encadraient la vitrine. Mais quelque chose attira mon attention… Ces toiles d’araignée n’étaient pas cette espèce de mélasse de plastique blanc qu’on trouve dans tous les magasins de farces et attrapes. Ces toiles d’araignées étaient… Réelles ! D’autant plus réelles que des araignées, justement, se baladaient ça et là, tranquillement, comme si le magasin n’avait pas été récuré depuis des lustres ! Bizarre, tout de même. 

A beautiful woman, whose makeup had run, was also standing on the right side... A wax statue with an appearance that I still found incredibly realistic... It looked as if she had been frozen in action, while she seemed to want to bend down to grab something... And yet, it was indeed a statue since she did not move, forever imprisoned in her black costume and her stunned expression, her face contorted and her mouth wide open, as if before turning into a statue she had been terrorized by something or someone. And now I was lingering on her gaze... A gaze undoubtedly filled with fear. Une magnifique femme, dont le maquillage avait coulé, se tenait également sur le côté droit… Statue de cire à l’apparence que je trouvais tout de même incroyablement réaliste… On aurait dit qu’elle avait été figée en pleine action, alors qu’elle semblait vouloir se baisser pour attraper quelque chose… Et pourtant, il s’agissait bien d’une statue puisqu’elle ne bougeait pas, prisonnière à jamais de son costume noir et de son expression sidérée, le visage crispé et la bouche grande ouverte, comme si avant de se changer en statue elle avait été terrorisée par quelque chose ou quelqu’un. Et voilà que je m’attardais sur son regard… Un regard sans nulle doute empli d’effroi.

But it was actually I who was startled when the creature, I could have sworn, blinked before giving me a look of pity. I ran away without asking for more. Mais ce fut moi qui fut pris d’effroi, lorsque la créature, je l’aurais juré, cligna des yeux avant de m’adresser un regard de pitié. Je m'enfuyai à toutes jambes sans demander mon reste.