Je Suis Paris

a tribute in cartoons by Stephannie that was inspired by the Candlelight Vigil on January 13th

It was an unusually quiet day on the island where that Blue Blur lives; no Eggman and his cumbersome robots, no Shadow to destroy the world.… He was free to run around all day and do as he pleased. When he arrived at the hut where he and his friends lived, though, he stopped for a moment.

Amy Rose was on the verge of tears.

Tails was covering his face with his hands.

Knuckles walked up to Sonic, put his hand on his shoulder, shook his head and sighed.

Sticks was blubbering, “It’s not fair…it’s not fair….”

Sonic wasn’t a fool; the realization came as quickly as he could run. Raising his ocean blue, spiked mane, he muttered, “Je suis Paris….”

 

Underneath the sea, the news was everywhere. The fish, whales, snails and other sea creatures spread the rumors quickly enough. Even Plankton cancelled his nefarious schemes to destroy Krabs for just one day while he stayed home in the Chum Bucket crying uncontrollably. In his pineapple home next to the Easter Island head, on his lifesaver couch, the face that had once delighted the most amount of seven-year-olds in his day was now a weeping mess of sniffles and sobs. Squidward didn’t have to ask why he was crying; chances were, he was crying too. Through his tears, Spongebob muttered “Je suis Paris” over and over.

 

The streets of Bricksburg, normally congested with people singing “Everything is Awesome” and with unerasable smiles, were now seemingly abandoned and left barren as a jar with nothing in it. The only lights that shone through the unusual blackness was one solitary candle . In Emmet’s apartment, which for the moment only contained him, Wyldstyle and Unikitty, they were crying as the news was being delivered; nothing got past Bricksburg, even this. After a few moments, Emmet stood, walked towards the window, leaned his head against the glass of the window pane and mumbled three words: “Je suis Paris.”

 

In Gotham, the city of heinous crimes, littered streets and clouded, black skies, those same streets no longer contained ruthless gangsters or Joker tear-gassing the city or Catwoman lurking about on the hunt for a beautiful ruby. There was only Batman tonight, looking for the famous Bat-signal. When it did come, there was no bat to warn him of criminal activity; there was only a peace sign and hidden in its three fold branches was a single line connecting them together. Glancing at the ground, he gravely whispered, “Je suis Paris.

 

In the City of Lights, where it all began, Superman took his rare reprieve of saving the Earth to find a disheartening scene:

Families crying for lost loved ones.

Children searching for parents who may or may not be there.

Hundreds of people lighting candles, sobbing, mourning.

His eye spotted a young boy, about eight years old, who could not be comforted by a relative. He softly landed in the direction they were walking and asked in a soft murmur why he was crying.

The boy replied through his tears: “Mes parents ont été tués . Je suis seul maintenant. Que devrais-je faire?”

Superman replied in a wise whisper: “Gardez la foi . Ils ne peuvent pas détruire ce que nous gardons dans nos cœurs.”

Je Suis Paris…toujours.

Stephannie is a fan fiction writer and a sophomore.

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