Everyone wants to go to Paris at least once in their life, right? See the Eiffel Tower, take a selfie with Notre Dame, sit at a café and eat a croissant, go to the Louvre and squeeze through the giant crowed surrounding the Mona Lisa to get a good picture at the front. There's even tons of non-cliché things to do there too. But for the sake of this story not starting off as some crappy travel commercial, I'll just skip ahead and forget the nice opening sequence.

A few months ago, I, Matthieu Courfeyrac, a humble law student from Marseille, got to come here to the city of love and lights itself … Paris. I came here to study for a semester at a nice law school, meet nice new friends, stay in a nice new apartment and party hard like a 22 year old. As a side note, I did all of those things I mentioned earlier and I have no shame. The thing is though; people's experiences in Paris aren't supposed to involve … angel wings and ghosts.

Here's where you can look to the title to find the appropriate response to what I just said.

Yes, indeed folks, you heard me correctly … angel wings and ghosts. *Infomercial announcer voice* Does this ever happen to you? Have you ever come home to find a strange man in your apartment only to wake up the very next morning not remembering he was there at all and find a large pair of wings burnt into your wall?

OOH ME! ME, I HAVE! COURFEYRAC HAS! PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF EVERYTHING GOOD IN THIS WORLD …

Tell me there is an easy fix solution to this. Tell me this is all just a dream. Tell me the rest of my life hasn't just changed forever. Because I love adventure and all that but this is too real, friends, it's too—

Wait, no. This isn't too real. This is too unreal.

Let me clue you in a little more.

Marius Pontmercy. That's the first guy I ever really became friends with here in Paris. I met him at a restaurant bar; he just sat next to me and started talking and we got along really well, almost like we were old friends or something. He talked kinda funky, really proper, using the formal and sometimes old version of the French language, but I thought it was kinda cool so I didn't really think much of it.

Normalness continued for a while. I learned that Marius was as "student at the same university as me" and we met for lunch and he helped me with my English homework (as he was an "linguistics major") and we occasionally had drinks at the Corinth (the place we first met). I had a friend and damnit if I wasn't proud of myself for that.

Alas, normalness did not continue. Marius stood me up for dinner one night and I would have been cool with it except he didn't call or text me to even try to give an excuse. He did text me the next day though …

"Hello, friend Courfeyrac. I deeply apologize for being unable to meet you at the Corinth yesterday, I was detained. I am going on a trip that will last as week. I am sorry for not telling you and I am sorry for everything."

Now, to me, that was a pretty shit excuse. Like, bro, if you don't want to be my friend anymore just tell me outright. But whatever. If this guy didn't want to hang out anymore, there was nothing I could do about it, so I tried to forget out him. I could make new friends.

Like the random guy that showed up in my apartment one night. Yeah, you thought I was kidding didn't you? Here's how that shit went down.

I came back to my apartment from a long day of classes, ready to just put on some comfortable clothes and collapse on my bed. I got out my key and unlocked the door and when I opened it, there was a guy standing in my living room. Being as tired as I was, I guess I actually thought I had unlocked the wrong apartment door and so I apologized and started to close the door. But here is where it get's weird … the guy called out my name as soon as I shut the door.

The guy knew who I was? He had gotten into my apartment without unlocking it? HOW? And you know what's the real kicker here?

I don't actually remember any of this. I woke up the next morning in my own bed, feeling like I had just had too much fun at a bar the previous night and I logged onto my tumblr and the followers that I have were asking me …

"Did you ever find out who the guy in your apartment was?"

I had no frickin clue what they were talking about … which they all quickly grew concerned about.

"read your posts from last night, bro. there was supposedly a dude in your apartment."

"Look back at your last few posts, man. Something doesn't add up"

"Courf I need you to think real hard for a second okay. The other day you said there was a random guy in your apartment and they knew who you were. Now you are saying you don't remember much of that day and you don't remember the guy. Can you try to remember?"

Now, this made me pretty much go insane. I didn't remember this guy at all! I had no clue what they were talking about. So you better believe I was dressed in seconds, grabbing my school stuff and getting the hell out of my apartment. … I didn't even look in the living room, which I should have done.

When I got home that evening … I saw them. A huge pair of wings burnt into the back walk of my living room. I stared for about five minutes and then I approached with caution. I'd never seen anything like it before; the glass in window in between the walls was blown out, the boxes on the far end of the wall were singed as well and you could even clearly see some of the feather outlines at the end of the imprint. I climbed on the couch and carefully touched the singe marks with my finger and ZAP! This weird electric current traveled all the way through my finger all the way down TO MY FRICKING, EVERLASTIN' SOUL. I pretty much got as far away from that shit as I could.

To make matters worse, I took a picture of the wing marks … and no one could see them but me.

So I made the decision right then and there to move, because this was a nightmare, this was too insane. I thought that I was going crazy and I almost checked myself into the hospital … but something stopped me. I don't know what, but something was always blocking me from stepping that one extra step. I didn't check myself into a psych ward and I didn't sell my apartment.

Enter: Marius.

He came back. He showed up at my door one night apologizing profusely for leaving and claiming that he couldn't talk about where he went or why. So we decided to pick back up from where we left off … and we went to go have some drinks.

And it was that night that he told me something that is the reason I am writing all of this down.

He told me he was a ghost. He told me he wasn't real. He told me he had died a long time ago but had been walking the earth as a ghost ever since then.

He told me he had been looking everywhere for me.

He told me I had lived once too and that I had died in some tiny rebellion all the way back in 1832.

He told me I had friends then who also came back to the earth, not as humans, but as something different, something unnatural …

Something supernatural.

He told me the wings on my walls were angel wings.

And he told me that there was a reason I didn't become something supernatural like them.

And then … and then he walked through a fucking wall. Which was the trippiest thing I have ever seen, and since I was drunk, I tried too and got a bruise on my head the size of a plum.

I'd invite you now to go back up to the top and review the title of this once again. This story is aptly named isn't it? I basically just told you that supernatural things exist and that I apparently have a whole squad of them. So far I've just got a ghosty friend but who the hell knows what else is out there? Also, if anyone would like to tell me why I didn't get to be a dragon or something after the first time I died, that would be great.

This story seems to be far, far, far, from over and if you can see the wings on my wall, you might want to stick with me for this ride, because you may get some cool supernatural powers out of it or something! OR you may die, who knows? And if you can't see the wings on my wall, that's probably a really good thing and I kinda wish I were you … except if you keep reading … that might change too …