Member-only story
Déjà Vu
Paris, 1785
Jacques was never prone to superstition, even being employed as a gravedigger. Marie, his wife, now, she was different. She hung on to all the ancient observances. She believed in omens, consulted tarot cards, and held fast to old superstitions. Jacques often dismissed these beliefs as nonsense, but he couldn’t deny that many others in their village observed certain superstitions. They crossed themselves when passing cemeteries, hung onto charms and amulets, and avoided certain turns of phrases, fearing they might bring bad luck or summon spirits. Some refused to walk under ladders, believing it disrupted the sacred triangle. Others kept sprigs of lavender by their doors to ward off evil spirits or scattered salt to purify their homes. To Jacques, the spirit world seemed like nosy neighbors, always gossiping and wanting a word in edgewise, always trying to warn the living about potential calamities through broken mirrors and unlucky numbers. And yet, despite the incessant warnings, every day they went unheeded, as if the spirits’ efforts were nothing more than a futile attempt to meddle in human affair.
Marie was always of what might be termed a sensitive disposition. From the day she met, she seemed to believe she had a line to the otherworld. Instead of being repulsed by having a gravedigger husband, she was fascinated, seeing it as one step closer to the world of wraiths and ghosts.Marie…
