A Tiger on the Rue du Bac
Savannah sneaks out of the hotel while her dad and Veronica rest up for more museums of naked cherubs and armless statues. They’re always dragging her to awful places and oohing and aahing at each other like she doesn’t exist.
Not today.
Heart bumping, she inhales croissant-smell and ventures past the shops to hunt a hideout, almost running back at the policeman’s stare. Then she sees the lion.
Fanged. Real.
“Taxidermie,” the sign says.
Veronica hates cats.
Inside, up a spiral staircase, swans.
Alligators.
Shimmering blue butterflies.
A dagger-clawed tiger.
Savannah creeps beneath his perfect belly and whispers a hiss.
Photo Credit: Thomas Nicot
nice article.thanks
a hiss should always be a whisper – it carries more threat as a whisper – fun story – thanks