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Perfume. I lay there in the sludge and rotting sewage of Paris, where I had come to lie everynight, my new home, with nowhere else to go.

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PERFUME ESSAY I lay there in the sludge and rotting sewage of Paris, where I had come to lie everynight, my new home, with nowhere else to go. Chilling, pain ridden screams and howls arose from behind the concrete walls of the prison waking me from my deep slumber I was greeted by the smell of cold, hard steel and the irrepressible stench of rotting flesh and blood from the lucky dead. There was a constant rattling of chains and the smell of stale sweat and week's or months of rank urine. My incredible sense of smell could pick out anything and everything but it was useless now. As I drearily gazed around I noticed a human shape move ever so slightly in the shadows as I looked closer however I noticed the skin on his face was raw and scolded probably from some horrific torture; then he was gone. It did not bother me in the slightest the most feared men in Paris were kept here behind the solid iron gate it was also here that they were reduced to blubbering fools. Arising from the ground I set about gathering the essentials of the day (food and water) ...read more.


Quickly I dodged and took a side street but I was beginning to tire and the police drew ever closer, seeking me out relentlessly. Pain shot through my ankle, I had pulled it this was it what am I to do if I cannot run they are bearing down upon me drawing closer, ever closer. I tried doors as I went but they were locked all locked pushing as hard as I can to try and force a door but its to late now... I limp down to the end of the small, cramped alley and stared in horror at what I already knew. It was a dead end. I stared in anguish at the slimy, moss encrusted wall trying in vain to find a way over I could smell the concrete, the sewage from emptied chamber pots, a festering corpse of a rat and the maggots crawling beneath its skin. The burly policemen grabbed me by the shoulders pulling me violently down the old cobbled street I could smell the sweat that had built up on there bodies from the chase. I was taken to a cell in the prison, the same one that I had been sleeping just out side of early this morning. ...read more.


To late I realized I had gotten to close she turned, paused then began to scream I panicked not knowing what to do then it was all over in an instance. She lay there motionless her now lifeless body still smelt of that amazing scent. I had broken her neck... Remembering where I was I realized the man reading the sentence had become silent, the hessian bag was removed and before me in all its bloody glory was the guillotine. The crowd had now began to cheer my head was placed upon the wooden block and I took in the smells of paris one last time: the tree's, the rivers, the sea water, the grass, the mud and higher than the stench that of even paris the clear, clean and fresh air. An order sounded and as if in slow motion the blade of the guillotine slid down piercing the weak skin, flesh and bone of my neck in one quick clean cut. There was only one man that had not been cheering as my blood was splattered along the faces of the over eager onlookers. Who was he? I did not know but he had known me of that I'm sure whereas I only knew him as the mysterious man with a scolded face... ...read more.

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