Cacarinette In Provence

Cacarinette In Provence






Hi, I'm Cacarinette! I'm twelve and half years old and I live in Provence.

I'm a little bit mischievous, sometimes a bit wild, often rebellious and always ditsy! My parents are in despair, but my friends love it, especially Damien, my Parisian friend, who has a bit of a vicious tongue and makes fun of me constantly ...

 So, if you want to laugh at my silliness, meet Espigaou and follow me in my craziness, then make your way quickly into my universe ... I'm waiting for you.


An extract of my book, for you, my friend :


   In the South of France, between Crau, Camargue and the Mediterranean, where the mist from the sea sometimes blends with that of the marshland, lies the little village of Fanfarigoule.

   And if we zoom towards the rocky coastline, again and again, until we can see really small, we can observe:

   A red circle, of approximately one centimeter in diameter, on which small black dots are littered here and there, in an organized mess.


   This little red circle has a little black head and six paws, it’s a Cacarinette!


   It’s true that many call it a ladybird and this word is correct, but in Fanfarigoule in Provence, we prefer to use its real name, Cacarinette!


   But the Cacarinette in question is a child’s tattoo, and on the arm of a very young girl!


   The young girl, with bronze-coloured hair and a wild look, was facing the wind, on a rock, by the sea.


   Her silhouette was at one with the landscape and looked like the figure on a pirate ship’s bow, sailing on the high seas. But she wasn’t moving at all; she was very straight, sitting tall, despite her small size.


   The young girl stuck her chest out, breathed in deeply and let out a long cry, from the bottom of her soul that flew away on a gust of wind. The Mistral, her friend and confidant, knew very well that it was helping relieve her anguish.


   - Damien, you’re exaggerating, she sighed, punctuating her thoughts with a confident attitude, her two hands on her hips.


   Her gaze following the waves, the young girl was lost in thought… « Damien, the little Parisian with the strong accent and vicious tongue, was always making fun of her ditsiness! Shame, Damien was so cute! And his eyes so blue! Like the sky in Fanfarigoule! » … « Cacarinette, isn’t there anything in that head of yours! » he would shout at her all the time. She wasn’t normally quiet, but didn’t answer, as Damien intimidated her. However, she had made her decision, next time she would say: « Nothing in my head? It’s better than having your ideas! » That way, Damien would feel ashamed! And actually, she would go to the stonewall the next day. That’s where she would get her revenge, in that magical place, under the shade of the olive trees, where all the friends would meet.


   The young girl, at the ripe of age of twelve and half, accentuated the curvature of her body, and checked the horizon, lifting her chin; she felt ready to confront all of the challenges thrown at her, even if she had to fight like a boy!


   Cacarinette knelt at the edge of the rock, bent down, and collected in the palm of her cupped hands, a few droplets of seawater. She refreshed her face with them, then offered them to the sun, that filled them with stars.


   She stayed like this for a few long minutes, during which time seemed to stand still.


   Her own scream, emanating from the pocket of her jeans, woke her from her sad dreams! It was her mobile’s ring tone. She had recorded her scream as a ring tone!


   She grabbed the telephone with difficulty, from the pocket of her stonewashed jeans.


   « Mummy calling » were the words on display, together with a smiley. But her mother’s screaming voice was less pleasant than the image  ...



 You want to read it more? Put my book into the basket or read-me on Amazon !






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