Death is listening-The true horror stories in Paris Part 24

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’.


In the distance, I could see the Cathedral of Notre Dame as usual.  I felt so miserable that my imagination once again took me to the butcher of Ile de la Cité who sold the human flesh of foreign tourists…and about the bystanders who must have known about it, but still let him continue with his diabolical business.  How the butcher was caught is explained in this blog by Eli.  He does not know me, but I wish to respect his credit by giving you his URL on the butcher of Ile de la Cité.

As if to cleanse the curse accumulated in the place, a police station was built on the site, not just the former butcher shop but the site where many children were murdered in a different circumstance.  Then it occurred to me to go to the Police where Major B was stationed.  He was the one who stopped the restaurant from Hell from making noise after 22:30 for three nights.  He even later rang me to check if the restaurant stayed silent after he left that his number was left on my phone.  I wished to be allowed to sit inside the police station for the night. 

The compassionate Major B came out to meet me himself.  I was most grateful for his warm words.  A chair would have done for me, but the major arranged for me to stay inside a secured detention cell to protect me from criminals and drug addicts.  I was given full privacy and security.  The reality did not hit me until I smelt the stench of the cell, but this was the only safe sanctuary in the whole of Paris for me that night…while Ms. EMPATHY danced away at her home party, while Mr. PRIDE and Mme. HEART relaxed in their own fluffy bed: one was counting profit and one was planning more loud parties.

At 05:00 am I had to vacate the cell.  That was the condition.  I must have been the only person who slept there well, feeling secure.  I slowly walked back home observing the numerous activities in the early morning of Paris.  So many people working hard to support this city of love, yet never acknowledged.  When this predicament was behind me, I would remember to live in Paris with gratitude for these honest true Parisians.  I arrived at my building where the restaurant from Hell was.  The day before it was closed.  Did the chef think it would distance him from my accidental death if it had happened on his day off?  

I opted to wait across the building for my electrician who would check out my electricity system and witness the electricity flood in my apartment.  BUT he was late!  As usual in Paris, he would not come for two more hours.  In the meantime, the team of staff went inside the restaurant.  If the readers have thought I was imagining the entire electricity flood, you would know that I was not when I tell you what happened next. 

Mirror that reflects your soul

An ambulance arrived and a man whose face was blue, literally blue, was carried out from the restaurant from Hell.  His attire looked like that of the kitchen staff.  Mr. PRIDE had not installed an earth pole IN THE COMMERCIAL KITCHEN!  I know this because Mr. PRIDE later boasted to Mme. HARMONY that he installed one for me, but earthing should have been taken care of BEFORE the opening of the restaurant.  This shows how little he knew about the restaurant business and the irresponsibility of Mme. HEART.  

Then he came out.  The chef from Hell, looking very nervous.  He saw me and his eyes widened.  Now, this was the man recently prosecuted for multi-frauds.  It took a lot to startle him but did he think he saw my ghost?  He forced a smile and murmured ‘We will use more wood so that electricity does not…’   He stopped realizing it would lead to confession of his crime.  

Lucky for him my electrician was late and by the time he arrived, the power to the restaurant had been cut off.  My electrician could not find power leakage but found no fault with the system in my apartment either.  He recorded it in a letter and this my lawyer sent to the CEO of the Syndic.  The CEO would have normally ignored my plight, but the CEO had to protect Mr. PRIDE from troubles.  The restaurant from Hell had gone further than bullying, thus Mr. PRIDE must now pay to fix the problem to cover his track.  But I knew by then, Mr. PRIDE would still try to skimp and I was right. 

I was about to leave for Nanterre where I had booked an AIRBNB room.  I thought it would be meaningless to stay in a Paris hotel when I was paying rent for an apartment in Paris, but exploring other places would be interesting.  But suddenly my phone rang and the call was from my mother in Japan.  My father had died….before I could invite him to Paris!  I would have done this sooner had it not been for the noise from the restaurant from Hell.  As the police acknowledged, Mr. PRIDE had rendered my apartment inhabitable.  My father’s final dream of living in Paris was deprived by one man who did not care for people other than his own and the rich like himself.