Lucie Arnaud collapses on stage while singing her song; Hymnes Allemand. The microphone tumbles over. She lays moribund on the platform gasping for air. Her fans were shocked and raised on their feet; covering their mouths. Volunteers help carry her off the stage and into her limousine, along with themselves. The crowd chases the vehicle to have one last look, but is held back by the guards. The driver drives a good couple of minutes on the road and they stop at her studio. They proceed into her workplace; all struggling to carry her properly; as if something is pulling her down. She makes one last wish; to record one last song. They, without hesitation, let her sing in the studio. A decision was made to record it.

" Azawakh...mon ange..mon ami...mon enfant..venir a moi" Her voice was so distorted and hoarse they could not bear to hear it. It was not the Lucie Arnaud they had listened to afore. Suddenly she stops singing, and one of them quickly checks on her. Her nose bled profusely; slowly running down her lips. He checks her pulse and heartbeat. She was evidently dead. But then she continued singing "Azawakh...mon ange..mon ami...mon enfant..venir a moi!" He backs away from her. Her red eyes gazed at him; he stared at his reflection in her eyes .The lights started flickering and she rips her hair off the scalp ; screaming and crying. But the recording continued. Barks could be heard from the halls when her petrifying voice sang again" Azawakh...mon ange.." They all tried getting out the studio, but the doors were oddly soldered. The barks were louder and so was Lucie " mon ami...mon enfant.."

The lights sparked and went out. The tremor shook the whole studio; knocking things off the shelves and fall over. Something, most probably an animal, bangs on the door; persistently trying to get in. “Venir a moi, venir a moi, Azawakh!” Their ears instantly burst and ringing as the door flew open. Something was waiting for her at the door. Lucie runs out of the studio; trampling on the bodies of the dead men with clawed out eyes. The whole building collapses, in response to the quake. Lucie did not make it, but she stuttered out the words of her last song. "Azawakh...mon ange..mon ami...mon enfant..venir a moi"


This has been a local legend in Lambesc, France in the 20th century, but did not last long and was completely forgotten. An earthquake in 1909 had hit Provence, France; 46 dead, 250 injured, 2,000 buildings damaged;the areas affected include Lambesc. It measured number six on the Richter scale; the biggest earthquake in Metropolitan France. It was rumored that reconstruction was built on the studio, but no one had any idea which building it was. Reports of a strange stray dog were common; descriptions match a sight hound dog breed from Africa, making it impossible for it to have reached France at that time. The dog, called an Azawakh, was a normal breed, but an important deity in a lesser-known Swahili cult, named Watoto Wa Kifo; but this has nothing to do with the legend whatsoever, you might think, but you may be wrong.

Lucie Arnaud’s father, Mchumba Marjani, was a Waswahili. He was assumed to be part of the Watoto Wa Kifo as a leader. He went on a ‘vacation’ alone back to Swahili, but it was actually a sort of black pilgrimage. He had come back two weeks later, and brought back something with him. It was suggested in the lyrics of her songs that it was a dog, most probably the described breed . After her father’s return, she had disturbingly changed. She vomited excessively, and blacks out in the sight of her father.

She was proven to be pregnant; but she was without a husband. She had decreased appetite and when she does feel like eating, she would feed herself on raw meat. She became more aggressive and emotionally disturbed over the days.She stopped singing, and her fame was gone for awhile. 36 days past, and she had gave birth to her baby.36 days was too early for a human to give birth, but normal for a dog to. A day after she gave birth, her mother was dead on the floor; eyes clawed out and bitten on the neck. Her father and the baby was gone, and the only thing left of the baby was a photo.