The true horror stories in modern Paris part 53

The man who walked into the restaurant was a brother of Mme. Empathy.   He was obviously friend with Mme. Harmonie.  How is that possible?  

In need of some explanation that would make sense, I searched the internet.  The discovery was even more incredible.  Mme. Empathy's brother worked as a humanitarian.  He denounced Mme. Le Pen for racial discrimination, but this was the man who let his sister build the chamber of horror where I, an Asian woman, was fried above the restaurant.  This is the man who let his sister terrorize her neighbours at two restaurants and more from what I heard making many French neighbours sick day and night.  And yet he smiled in the photo like an icon of justice and benevolence.  The scary part was that he really seemed to believe he was Mr. Justice himself.  Talk about selective memory…

After midnight, I had no choice but to return to my apartment despite the party.  I hoped it would taper out.  How wrong I was because I heard a chorus from below that gradually turned into howling.  Then my apartment started to shake from stomping that continued all night.  The whole building shook from what I learnt later from my other neighbours.  I was past annoyed, I was scared.  Usually, my curiosity would beckon me to find out what was happening, but instinct told me to stay away from what was obviously a ritual of some kind.  As I listened to their primitive shouts, getting louder each time, I could not help but remember the dark souls of the butchers who lived near Notre Dame Cathedral praying on the tourists to consume their flesh.  Their shops are no more and there is a police station, but their souls that could not have been accepted into the heaven may have found a new hang out.

Nonsense, I tried calming myself.  But I sadly remembered that Mme. Harmonie knew that I suffered from the thin ceiling of the restaurant.  And yet she allowed this thunder-like gathering to happen.  No, she probably did not even remember that I existed.  I pictured herself dancing away merrily with the brother of Mme. Empathy downstairs.  Outwardly she is a respected critique and he is a revered humanitarian.   I choked on the cursed vapour invading into my apartment.  I felt sick to the core.  I was falling down the abyss of human souls that is essentially evil.  

To be continued.
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