How I almost ghosted myself in the City of Love
Apparently, I didn’t learn my lesson the first time.
This time, I was in Paris, not Peru—different country, same unhinged energy. I was with Su, and we decided to tour the legendary Catacombs of Paris. You know, the ones filled with 6 million skeletons, creepy history, and enough haunted energy to reboot The Conjuring franchise? Yeah, romantic!
We’d actually read this wild article before the tour—big mistake—about how people secretly live in the catacombs. Like full-on crypt squatters with candles, mattresses, and possibly a pet raven. Naturally, I laughed it off at the time like, “Pfft, no way.”
Cut to: Me deeply regretting that confidence.
The tour started normal. Skulls, bones, Su being supportive. I was thriving in my dark academic spooky influencer fantasy.
Until, of course, I stayed back (again) to film a scary video for my story. I whispered “Su??” with my phone flashlight under my chin like a drama queen.
And then?
I heard voices. Footsteps. Echoes. Not even the comforting chatter of a guided tour—more like soft whispers and a faint clinking sound, like… chains?
I panicked but pretended I wasn’t panicking, because pshh it's all in my head...right?. I followed the sounds, thinking I was catching up with the group.
Nope. Wrong again.
I turned into this side passage, and suddenly—boom—I was in a tunnel as dark as a blackout. Like, full “the flying hay???” darkness. My phone light timed out (because obviously), and all I could see were uneven walls and my life flashing before my eyes.
And THEN, I remembered that article.
About people living in the catacombs.
WITH NO ELECTRICITY.
AND MAYBE CULT VIBES.
I froze. What if I’d wandered into their “living room”? What if I was on camera right now being watched like a Netflix true crime reenactment?
Every bone (literal and emotional) told me to turn around. But I couldn’t even tell which way I came from. My brain said, “run,” my feet said, “no,” and my phone said, “no service” The drama!
Somehow, miraculously, I heard Su’s voice echo down the tunnel. I ran like I was in an Olympic skeleton sprint (pun absolutely intended) and found him and the group just as the guide was saying something judgmental in French. Probably “Here comes the chaos.”
Su blinked and sighed:
“AGAIN?!”
Moral of the Story:
Never read creepy articles before visiting creepy places.
If a tunnel is pitch-black and silent… turn around, babe.
The catacombs do not want your content—they want your soul.
“I came to Paris for romance. I stayed too long and nearly joined the crypt people.”
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