Friday, 8 December 2017
The bullied takes on Goliath in the true horror stories in modern Paris part 52
The machines in the restaurant below were pounding louder than usual around me as if I were inside the dark kitchen crawling. Usually I would have taken a glass of wine to numb my hearing against the noise, but that night I had not had any. In hindsight I did not trust that chef from Hell, Mr. Sincere, after all. It was not until several months later that we discovered the criminal charges pressed against him by many victims. However, Mme. Empathy and Mr. Justice would naturally feign not to have known about his recklessness which saw me in this fatal situation.
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 up the stairs. It was still cold at night, Paris in March, but my body was burning. I collapsed near the second floor gasping to breathe, but I sensed that I had escaped the danger. Three hours passed while the fever and nausea slowly subsided. One did not have to be a doctor to know that it was not illness that caused those symptoms. I stood up and went down the stairs, not to my apartment which was now a death trap, but out the building to the street. I looked into the restaurant from its big façade windows. All the machines were plugged on, some emitting eerie red light, some ominously blue light. It was not rage I felt. Only depair that people like them are in power in the real world. But it was no time to stop 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 by the restaurant. My body still felt numb and my head felt heavy and disconnected, the symptoms I had read on the related sites. This self-earthling method was recommended and 10 minutes later, my head started to clear. My senses returned and then I felt chill of the cold early hours of Paris. I must return to the death trap to get my clothes. I looked up and saw Notre Dame Cathedral in a distance. I remembered the article on this butcher who lived on Rue Chanoinesse near Notre Dame Cathedral luring all those unsuspecting couples who came to wed in Paris. It was later discovered that human flesh were being sold at this cursed meat shop. For the details, please read my episode 19 at
I would not blame you if you thought that my imagination was running wild, but the dark spirit has revived in the form of the restaurant from Hell, or so it felt that night. The chef who supervised the installation of more electric appliances, two of them attached right beneath my floor, were being sued by many newly wedded couples. Coincidence, naturally, but still a heck of coincidence. I did not know about his criminal charges that fatal night, but I knew my accidental death would have pleased some people. Was I destined to follow the trails of the victims of the cannibal butcher’s spirit behind the Notre Dame Cathedral?
No. I was still alive. I had grabbed a bottle of secret potion that I had made in a big quantity when I left my contaminated apartment. This helped enormously, no doubt. Where were my ancestors when the flesh eating butcher was alive and well in the middle age? I am a genuine descendent of a Samurai warrior. The long sword was not for just defeating our enemies, but it was for cutting through the dark force. Do I believe it? I assure you I do not. But I still had to act and I headed for my apartment above the restaurant from Hell, literally.
To be continued.