C'est ma premiere soir ici

It’s my first night in the familiar house in Cap Camarat, Ramatelle – and I’m not going to lie. I’m a little frightened.

It’s dark out. I mean REALLY dark. I’m on top of a mountain by myself. There are no city lights or beaming skyscrapers. There’s bats and wild boars, and winds that carry whispers of the shoreline to my doorstep. It’s kind of creepy.

Did I mention I’m all alone on a mountain of conversation land? There’s no one to hear me scream.

Plus, this is a huge house – three echoing floors of empty ceramic halls and haunts of WWII. I swear, sitting in bed alone, I can hear the ghosts. Big houses are wonderful… when they’re full of people.

Usually, when you’re trying to fall asleep and for whatever reason you’re being a pansy, you can just crawl under your sheets, bury your face in your pillow, squeeze your eyes shut, and hope you fall asleep fast. You’re bed is your sanctuary. Not here. Here, you have to worry about scorpians. I mean sure, every summerhouse has its pests – ants, spiders, bees, hornets – even bats. But scorpians?! They’re poisonous! They crawl into your bed at night and bite your toes and then you’re dead. That’s not all that fun.

Will write more assuming I survive the night.