This Is Paris Book Novels & Stories

And definitely not a romance. Wedging the book back between its friends, she stood. Stopped. Rose on tiptoe and reached, bringing down a larger book. This one bound in creased red leather. Beneath the dust the title was French. The words—and, with zero illustrations, it was nothing but words—all French. Her French sucked. She skimmed the story about a woman in a city—Paris?—trusting a man, a kind stranger. Following him? Elle le suivit. She—elle—followed—suivit—him—le.

But she shook her head, "Don't thank me just yet. We still need to hear what he has to say." Later that day, in the evening, when Paris returned home, he found me in the living room, going through books that had storied on the ancient pack and he leveled me with one of his scary gazes, "Should you not be somewhere packing your things?" he asked, and I pressed my lips together, "about that, Paris…" I said, setting the book aside, and he held up his hand, a gesture that so resembled his mothers and I bit my lower lip,

I flip through the magazine in the seat pocket, scroll aimlessly on my phone until there’s no signal, and then just watch him from time to time, It’s unsettling. When we finally descend, I press my face slightly toward the window. And then I see it. The city. Elegant rooftops. The curve of a river cutting through it. Landmarks I’ve only ever seen in pictures. My breath catches. “No way…” I whisper. The wheels touch down smoothly. PARIS. Like actual Paris. The land of lovers. The city of lights. The city people fly across the world for honeymoons and proposals and once-in-a-lifetime romance.

Were all in Paris werewolves? We found a small bookstore, and I quickly pulled Vidar inside. "Come on," I said. "I want to find a book." My anxiety was skyrocketing. Now was the time. We looked around for a moment while I formulated my plan. The store was really cute. It had two floors and was full of all types of books in French and English. There was a lovely old lady behind the counter, helping people with a gentle smile. I turned to Vidar. "Can you help me find a book?" Vidar looked at me.

Paris asked, slightly offended. “Yes, you look like a kid,” Merch said, laughing. “Let us go, pretty boy,” Matori said, laughing. Matori left Paris outside the Library, “it is a 24-hour library.” Paris picked up Soraya’s scent, thinking, ‘will she remember me? Has her mind been wiped?’ Paris entered the library and followed the scent that was all over the place but he focused on her human scent and then he saw her, her nose in an ancient-looking book, ‘one would think she has read all the books there are to read by now.’

"Alright, I hear you. See you in the evening." "Oh, and p.s, I'm picking you up, so no need to worry about the location. Okay, I love you, byeee." The phone went dead in Louisa's hands. With another long sigh, she went back to her work. ***** "Naa, I think your little fancy place has closed for the day." Louisa called out shakily as she stepped out of the car and smoothed her maroon-coloured body con dress. The simple but plush looking bar and grill had signs all over that said they were closed... infact, all the lights were turned off, which Louisa found very weird seeing as it wasn't even eleven p.m yet.

Michael Simkins once said, ‘Paris is a place in which we can forget ourselves, reinvent and expunge the dead weight of the past.’ For the first time, the magic of Paris was working on Anubhav. There was something very different in its air. It had that indescribable stimulating and intoxicating effect that fills you with a strange longing for fun as if you had just consumed a bottle of champagne. Anubhav had already forgotten that for the past few months he had held Esha responsible for the mess his life had become. The Parisian air made his heart believe in the recurring dream he always had, that one day Esha will be his.

Ever since childhood, the noirette had never been one with water and just thinking about all the ways the liquidly monster had tried taking his life made him shuddered. “Tada!” Quinn’s voice held great amount of excitement as she flayed her arms in the air, pointing particularly to nothing but the great city that awaited them ahead. “Welcome to Paris, the City which is listed as the world’s first most…” The Redette stopped to mull over her words for a few quick seconds before correcting herself. “Second most beautiful city.”

Deep in thought again. “Ok so I have many questions ….Oh! She asked me to take pictures!” he obviously remembered Iris’s request which I had clearly forgotten about. Eric fumbled for his phone and showed me the picture he took. “Shit it is identical… what does it mean though.” Furrowing my brow deep in thought Eric asks to see the book. So I nod and go fetch it. When I come back to the room I place the book open on the page with the house. I gently slide the book in front of Eric and Finn. Immediately I knew they were probably thinking the same million questions as me and Iris. They both sat deep in thought looking at the page.

"He who contemplates the depths of Paris is seized with vertigo. Nothing is more fantastic. Nothing is more tragic. Nothing is more sublime." -Victor Hugo- *** It took a few hours until they eventually arrived back in Paris. The sky had turned a soft shade of light and medium blue mixed with some purple and white, enhancing the romantic atmosphere of the city of love which at the moment they could only enjoy from the plane's window. Clara placed several of her fingers on the window surface, pretending she was touching the sky.