The true horror stories in Modern Paris Part 1

If it was ever disclosed, my complete profile would reveal all sorts of minority groups, starting with my gender and race.  I have been harassed on many levels throughout my life, but I lacked the stomach and power to carry out revenge.  This was a blessing in disguise because retribution eventually manifested itself, which inspired me to share on this blog.  I quote many others before me that ‘True horror is hidden within man’.

EPISODE 1

Parisians may be the most sought-after people in the world.  Their fashion, philosophy, cuisine, and most importantly, their society is coveted by those who flew in with an utmost expectation.  Of course, Parisians are not obliged to reciprocate just because people self-invited themselves into their city of light.  

‘But I tried so hard to be nice to them!’  Leila uttered with a grudge.  She is one of those hopefuls rejected by Parisians after living here for some years.  I do not need to describe her physical appearance because her reaction is a giveaway that she is a white person.  I can’t speak for all the coloured races, but I, for one, would be content if the locals just responded to me calmly.  Friendship is not something you can demand of people, and there is another kind of comfort in being left alone.  But I suspect people like Leila need Parisian friends as a trophy to prove herself to her people back home.  Not everyone can achieve authentic success in life, which requires hard work, so Leila opted for a shortcut but failed, and now she was bitter. 

Leila was too eager to trash Parisians, starting with her own landlords even when we first met as neighbours.  I had seen this type before.  Next, those rejected will vent their frustration on the weak or the minorities.  I knew her recent victim.  He was my previous resident, a kind old English retiree.  I shall call him Mr KIND.  He was a white man but weak in physic due to his age, and this Leila took ample advantage of until his life in Paris became such a hell that he finally had to leave the place.  This I was told only after I signed the rental contract.  

The French often get a bad rap, but this is unfair because lots of bullying is done by immigrants who even enjoy tarnishing the reputation of French people.  So with a sinking heart, I watched her superficial smile.  The fact that I was an Asian seemed to have relaxed her attitude.  She casually threw into the conversation that she had many international friends, many of them black people.   She stopped to observe my reaction or my admiration.    Well, I had seen this type too, a white person posing to be humanitarian by surrounding themself with the minorities.  

In some cases, they are genuinely so, but there are those whose motive is to numb the pain of rejection by their own white peers.  The latter would try to establish their superiority over the weak, and in Leila’s case, she had already driven out Mr KIND, my previous resident who was aged and weakened.   I was not impressed by Leila, and she may have sensed it.  You might wonder if Leila would use violence, but no.  In Paris, there are many other ways to damage people.  
Mirror that reflects your soul
It goes without saying that the infrastructure of the buildings here is ancient, but the outside walls are usually built with solid rock or sandstones.  However, due to the rapidly increasing demand for accommodation, the apartments were divided into smaller segments, partitioning with flimsy walls.  The noise that travels through the thin indoor walls is bothersome.  Therefore, it is crucial that all residents observe the social decorum of keeping the noise down after 22:00.  All electrical appliances must stop before it.  It is anti-social and even deemed crass to wash on Sundays in Paris because of the old infrastructure. 

When Mr KIND first heard the washing machine going after 22:00 upstairs, he hoped it was one isolated incident.  But then it continued all week and then on Saturday.  He could not believe it, but still, Mr KIND expected Leila to refrain from washing on Sunday.  No such luck as he was woken by the tumbling vibration.  By this time, his sleeping pattern had been disrupted, and he was starting to feel sick.  He plucked up his courage to knock on Leila’s door. 

Mr KIND retained politeness and mentioned to her that no washing on Sunday was the norm among the respectable Parisians.  His voice was soft by nature that any woman would feel compelled to oblige.  Leila smiled but offered no apology.  Still, M. KIND expected that his trouble was over.  Little did he know it was just beginning…