Mother, Little Wendy, Great Aunt Eunice, the “Danger twins” and Grandmamma and Grandpapa Lowenbrau strolled through the Cimetière du Père-Lachaise in search of Oscar Wilde’s tomb.
It appeared in all its ugliness, covered in cheap lipstick kisses, a portly man in old fashioned clothes perched on the top.
“Who is that man?” demanded Little Wendy rudely.
“Not ‘who?’, my dear, rather ‘what?’ said the man archly, floating a few inches above the monument.
“Tut tut tut!” said Great Aunt Eunice, flinging at the apparition’s head a copy of “Das Kapital” she had just bought at a Bouquiniste near the Pont Neuf. It passed straight through.
“Had I been a man of substance I would take you madam to court!” the apparition remarked epigrammatically.
“Court? We have no interest in queens! We are Republicans!” retorted censorious Grandmamma Lowenbrau.
The apparition gave Grandmamma a look so withering that even she blushed vermilion. It then vanished.
“Well this is not what I expected at all.” Sighed mother.
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164 words in response to the photo prompt for Flash Fiction for aspiring writers. The photo of an abandoned graveyard was kindly provided by Sonya O
Oscar Wilde’s tomb is a very odd structure. The custom of women kissing the tomb, leaving lipstick marks adds a lurid air to the monument and I cannot see that Oscar Wilde himself would have had any pleasure at looking at this ill proportioned edifice. The “Great Aesthete”was such an advocate of “Beauty for Beauty’s Sake” that is seems such a shame that all he had to endure in his later life and the persecutions he suffered ended in a memorial so very ugly.