Dance on the corpses on the floor-The true horror stories in Paris Part 23

My full profile, if it was ever disclosed, would reveal all sorts of minority groups starting with my gender and race. Throughout my life, I have been harassed on many levels, 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 23

The machines in the restaurant below were pounding louder than usual.  Usually, I would have gone to bed with a glass of wine to numb my hearing against the noise, but that night I had not taken any, thus my sense was able to respond to the unexpected change around me.  In hindsight, I must have anticipated something from the look in the chef’s eyes.  It was not discovered until a few months later that he had been running away from several charges pressed against him by numerous victims.  

My palm and the back of my feet felt the sting at every contact with the floor that was buzzing with some sort of electricity.  Somehow I reached for my shoes, opened the door and I crawled out onto the stairs.  It was still cold at night, Paris in March, but my body was burning.  I collapsed on the staircase gasping to breathe.  Three hours passed while the fever and nausea slowly subsided.  One did not have to be a doctor to know that it was not an illness that caused those symptoms.  I stood up and went down the stairs, out to the street.  I looked into the restaurant through its big glass façade.  All the machines were plugged on, some emitting eerie red light, some ominously blue light.  It was not rage I felt.  Only despair that people like them are in power in this world.  But it was no time to lament for I had to find a spot of soil quickly. 

As soon as I found one I removed my shoes and stood on the earth barefoot to release the electromagnetic toxins that had been charged into me.  My body still felt numb and my head felt heavy, but after 10 minutes of self-earthling my head started to clear.  My senses returned and I felt the chill of the early hours of Paris.  I must return to my apartment, now a death trap, to get what I would need to stay in a hotel.  I looked up and saw Notre Dame Cathedral in a distance.  I remembered the article about this butcher who lived on Rue Chanoinesse near the Cathedral.  Many foreigners went missing in Paris several centuries ago.  It was later discovered that human flesh was sold at this cursed shop.  For the details, please read my episode 8.   EPISODE 8

The evil spirit must have attracted the similar dark souls and sent them into the restaurant from Hell, or so it felt that night.  Was I destined to follow the trails of the victims of the cannibal butcher?  No, I was still alive.  I remember someone or a hand pushing up my back so I would wake up instead of sleeping myself to death in the electrified apartment.  Was it my guardian angel or my ancestor’s spirit?  I don’t know but I was saved by whoever or whatever it was.   

Mirror that reflects your soul
Under the early morning sun, it felt like the fatal nightmare did not really happen.  But the machines in the restaurant were still there, all plugged on and the air in my apartment felt heavy and darkish.  I marched in and opened the windows.  It may at least release the electromagnet.  I quickly gathered things I would need to stay elsewhere and then contacted my lawyer.   Following his advice, I made a booking at a hospital and arranged an electrician to check my apartment because Mr. PRIDE and Mme. HEART would claim there may have been a failure in the electric system in my apartment.  My lawyer would need to prove otherwise with the help of an electrician.  

I may have been inside my contaminated apartment for just 30 minutes, but already I started to feel the effect of the electric contamination.  By the time I reached the hospital my palpation had jumped to 98 per minute.  The hospital recorded a high fever too.  I was absolutely sick that they did a blood test on me.  They found nothing.  And again, after 4 hours, all the symptoms subsided.  I asked for the medical certificate as my lawyer had advised. 

It was already dark outside the hospital, but I had not had the chance to book a hotel.  I sat outside my apartment so my WIFI would reach me.  A tenant of Mme. HARMONY passed by.  I apologized and explained why I was taking up space in the communal area.  He understood and even promised to contact Mme. HARMONY on my behalf to relay my plight.  He was a true Parisian.  Then came Ms. EMPATHY, the landlord of my former neighbor from Hell LEILA.  Ms. EMPATHY had returned from abroad and opted to live in the apartment herself with her fiancé.  This was the woman whom even Leila had found to be cold and selfish.   Leila told me so.

Sure enough, Ms. EMPATHY told me to get back inside my apartment.  It was not her problem that it was flooded with electricity.  Her guests would soon arrive for her party that night and I should not spoil the view of her apartment.  She spoke in English so I understood her perfectly.  She had inherited the apartment in the trendy area of Paris which she wished to show off, but the sight of an Asian would tarnish the image.  That was rude but fair enough as this was her country.  I said that I would leave as soon as I had found a hotel before her guests arrived.  But then abruptly her finance raised his voice ‘Just get lost!’ 

To this, even Ms. EMPATHY was surprised because her finance was usually demure and seemed shy behind the pair of glasses.  But I had seen him dressed up, glasses off, and went out swinging during her absence.  He had guests every night and some of them stayed over.  It was none of my business, but this fiancé thought I had seen him cheating on Ms. EMPATHY and he was always abusive towards me, perhaps to stop me from enlightening Ms. EMPATHY.  And here he was, grabbing my chair to tip me over, his eyes were red-shot while Ms. EMPATHY was flustered at the new side of him.  

Lucky for him I would not snitch.  I calmly opened my door to put the chair inside.  The finance walked up the stairs triumphantly while Ms. EMPATHY followed him pondering something.  Mme. HARMONY had told me that the family of Ms. EMPATHY had come from the countryside of France that Ms. EMPATHY would try too hard to be a Parisian.  There was a tone of contempt in the voice of Mme. HARMONY when she described the family of Ms. EMPATHY as wanna-be Parisians buying the status with money.  An insecure person like Ms. EMPATHY always takes it out on the lesser and weaker.  I was an Asian woman and fit the bill.  

So there I was, no place to go in Paris after dark.