"sing sing sing"

"puppet puppet puppet"


A gypsy man with a soft voice sang aloud to the people of France as he set up his puppet stand outside of the church. The clashing colors of his skin tight outfit made him easy to tell apart from the city folk and the higher class. His purple and gold mask and tights, blue, purple, and gold tunic, gaudy hat, shiny bells, and curled shoes. No doubt this was the King of Gypsies, Jose. A former Spaniard turn gypsy in France.

"Morning in Paris, the city awakes
To the bells of Notre Dame
The fisherman fishes, the bakerman bakes
To the bells of Notre Dame
To the big bells as loud as the thunder
To the little bells soft as a psalm
And some say the soul of the city's
The toll of the bells
The bells of Notre Dame."

After the dark skinned man was done setting up his stand, he noticed children gathering around with doe eyes filled with innocent curiosity. Smiling, he closed his eyes at the sound of the bells ringing.

"Listen, they're beautiful, no? So many colors of sound, so many changing moods."

As more and more youngsters came, he bent down to speak closer to them.

"Because you know, they don't ring all by themselves."

The male pulled out a hand puppet that looked identical to him.

"They don't?" he asked himself in a high pitched voice suited for a child.

Jose looked at his puppet, "No, you silly boy~."

He pulled up the cloth above him to reveal the towers.

"Up there, high, high in the dark bell tower, lives the mysterious bell ringer."

Jose looked up and gazed at the building, admiring it's pristine beauty.

"Who is this creature?"

"Who?"

"What is he?"

"What?"

"How did he get there?"

"How?"

He smacked the puppet with a small wooden pole the size of a loaf of bread. "Hush," Jose scolded.

"Owww," puppet Jose whined, rubbing his head.

The children laughed at the adorable display. The King of Gypsies was the greatest entertainer when it came to storytelling.

"Jose will tell you. It is a tale, a tale of a man.. and a monster~!"


The scene changed from the bright streets to a dark and snowy place. Five people were on a boat, the adults of the group doing their best to stay hidden. Unfortunately, the baby in the arms of the gypsy woman did not agree and cried loudly.

"Dark was the night when our tale was begun
On the docks near Notre Dame,
" Jose sang.

"Shut it up, will you!" her husband whispered harshly.

"We'll be spotted," one of the gypsy men shouted.

"Hush, little one," she pleaded with her child.

"Four frightened gypsies slid silently under
The docks near Notre Dame.
"

When the group finally reached the dock and could stand on the white covered land, the deformed man who had brought them to Paris stuck his hand out and sneered.

"Four guilders for safe passage to Paris."

A arrow was shot from afar and landed in the boat owner's rowing stick. He turned his head in the direction of where it came from and his eyes widened in fear when he saw the hoard of archers donned in black.

"But a trap had been laid for the gypsies
And they gazed up in fear and alarm
At a figure whose clutches
Were iron as much as the bells."

More soldiers surrounded the foreigners, spears pointed in their direction. The shadow of a man on his horse appeared on the side of one of the brick walls.

One of the gypsies gasped, "Judge Jax Hudson!"

A young man no older than twenty five appeared riding a frightening, black steed.

"The Bells of Notre Dame."

As he got closer and closer to the group, the gypsies moved closer and closer together.

"Judge Claude Frollo longed
To purge the world
Of vice and sin.
"

One of the solders for Jax grabbed the woman's husband and yanked him forcefully away from her; therefore, leaving her absolutely defenseless. The men dressed in black put cuffs onto the men, including the one who had brought the gypsies to Paris.

"And he saw corruption
Ev'rywhere
Except within."

"Bring these gypsy vermin to the Palace of Justice," Jax ordered.

A guard noticed the way the mother clutched the bundle of cloth so close to her heaving chest. He roughly grabbed the woman by her blue cloak and forced her to move.

"You there! What are you hiding?"

"Stolen goods, no doubt," the Judge assumed. He stared down at her with a merciless eyes, "Take them from her!"

And with the order booming in her ears, she sped off.

"She rrrrrrran~," Jose sang with his eyes wide, his accent naturally rolling his R's. Making it sound even more theatrical.

Anger fueling his actions, the young man followed the woman, gaining onto her quickly with the help of his horse. No matter where she went, Judge Hudson was hot on her trail. That was until she decided to hop over a railing, making the man stop. No way he and his horse could both jump over it with such small space. With the given opportunity, the mother ran until she found Notre Dame, the Catholic Cathedral. She banged heavily on the door as her feet, barely protected by her flimsy shoes, froze up from the snow gathered around the steps.

"Sanctuary, please give us sanctuary!" she pleaded with whoever was inside the building.

The sound of a horse whinnying and the thudding of it's hoofs against the ground alarmed her. She turned around and gasped before giving one last attempt at escaping from Jax. He got close enough to the mother to get a firm grip on the cloth keeping the baby warm. No matter how high he raised his arm in an attempt to pull the 'stolen goods' out of her hands, he finally resorted to violence by raising his foot and kicking the woman away. The blow sent her falling down and caused her to hit her head against the not so friendly stone steps. A pained look was etched onto her once fear stricken face. Her body laid defeated and unbreathing, she had lost the battle and certainly the war. After so long of being quiet, the child who once had a mother started to cry.

"A baby?" he asked aloud in a curious tone.

Carefully, Jax peeled the article of cloth off of the child's face and gasped in horror.

"A monster!" he said aloud.

The man quickly searched the area and his eyes landed on the well a few yards away. A dark and sinister thought filled his mind and he calmly advanced on his horse towards the well. Holding the sides of the cloth, he held the child over the pit of cold water. A strike of lightning illuminated the air and the sound of thunder filled in the rest.

"STOP!" A man outstretched his hand wearing traditional white robes.

"Cried the Archdeacon," Jose announced to the spectators.

Jax pulled the child away from the well and spoke, "This is an unholy demon. I'm sending it back to Hell, where it belongs."

John Rivers, Archdeacon for Notre Dame, hurried over to the dead body that was slowly collected snowflakes. His eyes were filled with pain and sadness. Even if he did not know her, a life was a life. She was dead and for no good reason.

"See there the innocent blood you have spilt
On the steps of Notre Dame
," his voice was filled with woe.

Jax had a 'I don't give a shit, you dumb fuck' look on his face as he haughtily turned his gaze elsewhere.

"I am guiltless. She ran, I pursued her," he justified.

"Now you would add this child's blood to your guilt
On the steps of Notre Dame
," Jon's brown eyes followed the Judge as he moved around on his horse.

"My conscience is clear!" he sneered down at the gentleman.

The Archdeacon glared up at Jax.

"You can lie to yourself and your minions
You can claim that you haven't a qualm
But you never can run from
Nor hide what you've done from the eyes.
"

He pointed up at the many statues that surrounded them. They were all of folks from the well known bible. Their eyes glared down at him.

"The very eyes of Notre Dame," he finished.

It was then that the rare emotion of fright showed on his face.

"And for one time in his live
Of power and control
Frollo felt a twinge of fear
For his immortal soul,
" Jose sang.

"What must I do? To be saved?"

"Care for the child, and raise it as your own."

Jon cradled the child's mother in his arms and walked to the church. It was his duty to give her a proper burial. Even if he would be the only one to attend. A look of disgust formed on Jax Hudson's face.

"What? I'd be settled with this hideous...?" he stopped mid sentence. The man stared long and hard at the infant's eyes. They were a shade of liquid silver that made his stomach twist. For a child, his eyes stared him with a sort of fire. It was as if his eyes were analyzing him even with his innocent mind. Jax could not deny that he felt like the child's eyes were piercing right through his very 'immortal' soul.

"Very well. Let him live with you, in your church."

Still holding the dead woman in his arms, the Archdeacon turned to look at Jax.

"Live here? Where?" the man asked.

"Anywhere," he eyed the towers, an idea coming into his head.

"Just so he's kept locked away
Where no one else can see," Jax sang.

"The bell tower perhaps. And who knows," the Judge looked down to the infant in his arms, "Our Lord works in mysterious ways."

"Even this foul creature may
Yet prove one day to be
Of use to me,"
he ended the verse with a wicked grin.

Jose wrapped a red cloak around his thin body and continued to tell the small kids the story.

"And Jax gave him a name. A name he believed he could never live up to. A name that would forever condemn him to be thought of greatly, but in the end, not able to become a star. Jax named him... Sirius~."

The King of Gypsies pulled out a puppet used for shadow puppetry in the shape of Jax Hudson carrying a baby wrapped up in cloth. He made it walk up a flight of stairs.

"Now here is a riddle to guess if you can," the Jax shadow puppet hid behind the thin paper to show him walking up the steps of the bell tower with a scrawny looking boy following after. "Sing the bells of Notre Dame," the Sirius puppet became larger and larger to show his aging until he reached the top of the tower. "Who is the monster and who is the man?" The Sirius shadow pulled on the ropes to ring the bells, it gave off a small ring that could not compare to the actual bell ringing happening high above Jose's head."Sing the bells, bells, bells, bells, bells, bells, bells, bells, bells of Notre Dame!" Jose sang.


Sirius, a young man of only twenty walked outside of the bell tower onto the balcony. His black curls bounced around and his gray eyes seemed to brighten up as he got closer to the outside world. He noticed a small, white bird resting inside it's nest in the mouth of a gargoyle.

"Good morning," he greeted and smiled when the winged creature woke up and squawked a reply back. "Will today be the day? Are you ready to fly?"

The bird shrugged and looked down.

He raised a black brow, "You sure?" His gaze turned to the city before looking back at the animal. "It's a good day to try!" Ever so gently, Sirius picked up the small bird both hands and held it like it was a present. "If-if I could pick a day to fly-oh, this would be it. The Festival of Fools." The young man extended his hands to hold the creature above the area below.

It looked down and gulped nervously before making a not so confident squawk.

Sirius moved his hands making the bird bounce to show his enthusiasm. "It will be fun, the jugglers, with music, and dancing!" He watched the bird flap it's white wings with fervor and grinned at the bird's accomplishment.

They both looked down to see the winged creature holding itself up in the air with no assistance from the young man. He laughed while the bird gave a happy squawk. After so long the bird stopped flapping and landed in the bell ringer's calloused hands. Sirius laughed before becoming amazed by the flock of birds passing by. His feathery companion squeaked happily and bounced around in Sirius' hand.

"Go on, nobody wants to be cooped up here forever," he whispered in encouragement.

With no help, the bird flew off of the human's hand and joined the other flying creatures in the sky. Realizing he was left alone, Sirius looked solemnly at the Festival down below. The small gargoyle next to him spit out the feathers and twigs and grunted.

"Whoa, man, I thought that guy would never leave," Brian the gargoyle announced, "I'll be spittin' feathers for a week!"

"Well that's what you get for sleeping with your mouth open," Alan said.

Brian let out a low, fake laugh, "Hehhehheh, go scare a nun."

Yes, Sirius was not the most sane person in all of France. Being locked up inside of a bell tower for twenty years does that to a person. Not only did the French male speak to birds, he spoke to the gargoyles, three specific ones. Brian, Alan, and Heather. With his free time came lots of imagination, which he put to good use by animating the three architectural creations. Besides, on some level, it seemed the gargoyles actually did have life in them. They could move without him touching them. While Sirius yearned for communication with others, fear and some content kept him talking to the gargoyles.

Brian hopped on his flat bottom to get closer to the human.

"Hey, Sirius, what's goin' on down there? A fight? A flogging?" be batted his stone lashes expectantly.

"A festival," Alan had hopped over to the bellringer as well and peered over the balcony.

"You mean the Feast of Fools?" Brian blinked his eyes rapidly and smiled. The tiny, bat-like wings on his back fluttered with excitement. "All right, all right, all right!" He mimicked pouring liquid into a glass motion, "Pour the wine-" the gargoyle moved one of his arms underneath the apex of his stone arm and made flatutant noises, "And cut the cheese!"

"It's pretty interesting getting to watch all the festivities from an almost omnificent point of view! All the colors on the masks and the wonderful smell of croissants and creme brulee in the air~!" When it came to describing things he liked, Alan was quite poetic.

"Nothing better than having a bird's eye view on the F.O.F!" Brian rubbed his hands together happily.

"Yeah," Sirius said disdainfully, "Watching..." He started to walk away.

The mischevious gargoyle known as Brian spotted a man dressed in black and white stripes down below and grinned while rubbing his grey hoofs evilly.

"Oh, look, a mime!" he hocked a loogie at the mime.

Alan laughed, "Nice!"

Both gargoyles noticed the lack of a certain human presence and turned around.

"Hey, hey, hey, hey, what gives?" Brian asked.

"Don't you want to watch the festival with us, man?" Alan asked.

With his eyes trained on the floor, the bellringer walked into the bell tower.

"Maybe he's sick," the taller gargoyle mused.

"Impossible," a much more feminine voice said aloud.

Both statues turned their stone bodies to see their only female companion, Heather, hopping on her flat bottom with a flock of white doves following behind her.

"If twenty years of listening to us talk hasn't made him sick by now nothing will." She hopped onto the balcony from the railing.

"But it's tradition!" Brian exclaimed.

Alan nodded, "Every year, the four of us watch the Festival of Fools, it's the highlight of the year for Sirius!"

"Where's the fun in watching a party if you aren't a part of it?" she asked the other two gargoyles.

The birds landed on her stiff arms, resulting in her waving them angrily.

"Buzz off before I find a cat to eat you!" she shouted.

Heather started to hop into the bell tower with the other two statues not far behind. Sirius slowly walked up the wooden stairs to his room. It was a large space with a small cubicle room off to the side where there was a large mattress on the floor. He walked over to a huge wooden table next to the wall where a handmade display of Paris was set up. The young man sat on the stool and rested his arms and head on the table while gazing at his unfinished masterpiece. Sirius fiddled with the King of Gypsies figurine he had made the other day. The colors of his outfit, oh, how gaudy it was. But strangely, Sirius thought it was an amazing fashion statement. With concern, Heather hopped over to her only human friend.

She rested a hand on his shoulder and asked, "Hey, Sirius, what's wrong? You'll tell me, won't you?"

He stayed quiet.

"You won't keep it from me, will you?"

"I just don't want to watch this year that's all!" he snapped at her.

She put her hands on her stone hips in a sassy manner, "Well have you tried actually going?"

His head shot up, "Of course! But I'd never fit in down there. You know, not normal..."

"Don't give me that," Heather scolded softly. She patted him on the back, but stopped when pidgeons landed on her body. "Do you mind?" The gargoyle angrily waved her arms around in the air, "I'M TRYING TO HAVE A MOMENT WITH SIRIUS!"

From afar, Brian and Alan snickered into their hands/hooves. The smaller gargoyle decided to talk to the bellringer as well and hopped to the table until he jumped onto it.

"Quite beating around the belltower. What do we have to do? Paint you a fresco?" Brian took out the Sirius figurine from the belltower and put it on the fake cobblestone ground adorning the tabletop.

"As your best friends and kind of guardians we order you to the festival!" Alan shouted excitedly.

"Me?" Sirius asked surprised.

"No, the pope," the youngest gargoyle took the wooden pope figurine and shoved it headfirst into Sirius' mouth.

"It would be an amazing experience for your first time out of the tower," Alan pulled out the object from Sirius' mouth and tossed it behind him.

Brian juggled three figurines, "Wine, women, and Sun!"

"You can learn how to dance in the traditional Romani style from gypsies," Alan stated.

The small gargoyle bumped his male friend out of the way while carrying a bucket of water, "Bobbing for snails and apples!"

"Learn how to sing in harmony with others by the King of Gypsies himself."

"Play-" Brian dropped the bucket of water on Alan's head, "DUNK THE MONK!"

"Take it from me, Sirius. Life is not a spectator's sport, if watching is all you're going to do, then you're going to watch your life go by without you.

"Yeah," Brian nodded, "You're human, with the flesh, and the hair, and the not visible muscles!" He gestured to the two other gargoyles and himself, "We're just pieces of architecture, right, Alan?"

"That's right, if a piece of us chips away, it doesn't grow back. If water is dumped on us," he took off the bucket from his head and slammed it on Brian's, "we grow nasty crap on us."

"Woopwoopwoopwoop!" the small gargoyle responded with the bucket on his head.

"Sirius, put on a new outfit and-"

Sirius patted Heather's arm, "Thanks for the encouragement, but there's one big obstacle."

"What?" they all asked.

"My master, Frollo," he picked up the Claude Frollo figurine.

"Oh..."

"Right..."

"True..."

"Well... when he says you're forbidden from leaving the belltower does he mean ever ever?" ALan asked.

"Never ever! And he HATES the Feast of Fools! He would be furious if I asked him if I could go."

Brian rubbed his hands together and let out a evil laugh, "Who says you have to ask him?"

"No!" Sirius shrieked.

"Yes! Sneak out," Brian said.

"It's just for a few hours," Heather reasoned.

"I can't-"

"Aaaaannd you sneak right back in!" Brian shouted.

"He'll never know you were gone," Heather insisted.

"But what if I got caught?" he asked fearfully, running his hand through his raven locks.

"It's better to beg forgiveness than to ask permission is my policy," Alan said.

"He could see me!"

"You could wear a disguise!" Brian picked up a dark blue cloack and tied it around his neck and put the hood over his head. Just this once, what Frollo doesn't know won't hurt you," he persuaded.

"Ignorance is bliss," Alan stated.

"Looks who's talking," Brian teased.

"Nobody wants to stay cooped up here forever," Heather quoted.

Sirius' silver eyes widened and he stood up, "You're right! I'll go!"

The gargoyles cheered, "Woohoo!"

"I'll wear my new clothes!" Sirius started to walk to the stairs.

"Yeah!"

"I'll stride down those stairs!"

"You're the man!"

"I'll march through those doors and-!"

"Good morning, Sirius," a deep and dark voice greeted.


So? How was it? Review pretty please with nummy yummy food on top!

This is so ya know who is who:

Jose/Magnet= Clopin Trouillefou/King of Gypsies

Sirius= Quasimodo

Sookie= Esmeralda

Jax= Judge Claude Frollo

Jon= Archdeacon

Christian= Phoebus

Alan= Victor

Brian= Hugo

Heather= Laverne