The true horror stories in Modern Paris Part 2
My complete
profile, if it was ever disclosed, 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 2
Mr KIND returned to his apartment feeling much relieved that his talk with Leila went cordially. He would, at last, have peace and quiet after this night. He put on his kettle to make himself a cupper…then his hand stopped. That blasted grounding noise started above his head. Leila had turned on her washing machine as soon as he had left. ‘Oh, maybe she just needs to do one lot because she could not help it that she came home after 19:00…’ Mr KIND tried to explain Leila to himself, but she could have set the timer on her machine so that it would wash during the regular hours of the following day.
The machine got louder as it reached the final spinning stage. Because of the thin walls and ceiling in Paris’ old buildings, it felt as if he was inside the spinning machine with his guts being oppressed. Mr KIND held on, waiting for the final bang. It came, and the quiet that followed relaxed his muscles. Mr KIND sighed. It was nearly 22:00. But wait…Leila re-started the washing cycle immediately.
Mr KIND felt his blood pressure rising. He had told Leila that he was taking medication for his high blood pressure, that he needed peace and quiet at night. She eagerly listened on, so why would she still torment him with her tedious washing? Mr KIND was a genuinely sympathetic man and could not imagine that some people thrived on other people’s pain. Up to this point, her washing had been just another anti-social behaviour brought about by her apparent ill upbringing. Still, now that she knew that it stressed Mr KIND, both mentally AND physically, it took a sinister turn.
The washing finally stopped after 01:00. Mr KIND was suffering from mild palpation, but the much-craved silence gradually turned him drowsy. The poor man was woken up by the grounding noise again. It was 02:00 in the morning. Leila knew her game. She must have observed misery in the others and learned by now that giving her victims a pause makes the following strike more potent. Mr KIND felt his chest squeezed, and he passed out. He made a futile effort to knock on the ceiling, but he slid off the ladder from the shaking limbs. His memory ends there. He had lost some sense in his tongue when he woke up later.
He immediately complained to Leila’s landlord. However…Leila made good use of her youth and turned the story around. Mr KIND, a lonely old man, had been seeking her attention, and after declining his advance, he tried to get back at her with his ludicrous claim. Of course, the landlords tend to believe their paying tenants. Also, the centuries of old men lusting after young women came back to bite Mr KIND. To be honest, even I suspected him of that a little, not knowing him personally. Mr KIND left the apartment, broken and beaten, before the noise affected his blood pressure more.
I decided to move in after him because of its affordability. So back to the scene where Leila first approached me. She had already trashed her landlord as a spoiled Parisian and spoke of Mr KIND. As an invasive narcotic man. I secretly wondered what she would be saying about me later. I kept the conversation polite and hoped for the best.
