Off The Record
My Neighbor Tried To Drive Me Out Of Our Neighborhood—But Karma Had Other Plans For Her
My husband and I had just moved into our new home when one of the neighbors started doing all in her power to get my kids and I to sell it and move out of the area. However, she was unaware of the law of karma. And she was severely penalized by that law!
Only a month had passed since I had moved into our new home close to the forest. For years, my spouse and I had dreamed of this moment: a comfortable two-story house that was close enough to everything we needed yet far enough away from the bustle of the city to finally breathe. With our two boys, ages five and eight, the house was supposed to be my world while my husband, Steve, was away on business in Europe.
For years, my spouse and I had dreamed of this day.
We had a hopeful feeling on the day we unloaded. The neighborhood felt more tranquil because of the surrounding trees, the quieter road, and the fresher air. This is where my kids will grow up, where they will be able to ride their bikes, and where I will feel at last at home, I thought.
Only a few hours passed during that illusion.
The lads were giggling and chasing each other in the yard when the front door was knocked on. I rushed to open it, anticipating a friendly “welcome” or cookies from a neighbor.
Only a few hours passed during that illusion.
Rather, a 45-something woman stood staring at me. Her expression was stiff with annoyance rather than warmth. She spoke up before I could even greet her.
“Initially, as your trucks unloaded, they roared like beasts and blocked the road. Your children can now be heard shrieking like mice across the street! Are none of you ashamed?”
I stood for a moment in disbelief. I was ready for little annoyances like noise, traffic, and boxes, but not this. She wasn’t merely critiquing the action. She was making fun of my kids.
She spoke up before I could even greet her.
Something broke inside of me. With a stronger tone than I had intended, I shot out, “You don’t get to talk about my boys like that.” “Swivel and leave my property. I hope to never see you here again.”
A mocking sneer curved her mouth, but she remained silent. Muttering to herself, she turned on her heel and left.
With rage building in my chest and my heart pounding, I closed the door. I glanced out the window at Mike and Dylan. Unaware of the altercation, they continued to run in the yard.
With rage building in my chest and my heart pounding, I closed the door.
I didn’t wish to meet the neighbors in this manner. Kindness and possibly even new friendships were what I had envisioned. Rather, I had just created an adversary, and she was a short distance away.
I thought I was restless that night. I was still haunted by the encounter. I needed a normal person to chat to. I made the decision to introduce myself when I saw a woman my age watering flowers two houses down.
I approached nervously and said, “Hello, I’m new here.”
I didn’t wish to meet the neighbors in this manner.
She raised her head and grinned broadly. “My name is Emily. It must be you who recently moved in. How have you settled in?”
I let out a sigh of relief. “Well, it’s been a difficult beginning.”
With knowledge, she cocked her head. “I’ll venture a guess. You’ve met her already.”
I gave a nod. “She yelled about my children when she arrived at my door.”
She raised her head and grinned broadly.
Emily let out a sigh. Indeed. She dislikes noise, especially that made by kids. To be honest, not many folks on this street do. It resembles a child-free area. Singles, couples, and retirees—but no families. Your moving trucks most likely felt like a bomb dropped because of this.
“So we’re targets because I have children?” I asked sourly.
Emily smiled half-heartedly. “Perhaps. Don’t take it too personally, though. This group of people can be intense. Do you want to get coffee? A café is only a mile away.”
Indeed. She dislikes noise, especially when it comes from kids.
Our conversation relaxed me, at least until I got home, and we sat in the café for more than an hour.
When we arrived at our driveway, I gasped as the boys were giggling and skipping ahead of me. The words “GET OUT!” were spray-painted in unsightly black letters across the front of our house.
“No,” I muttered, feeling sick to my stomach.
Mike gripped my arm and said, “Mom, what does it say?” Dylan crouched behind me, sensing my dread.
GET OUT was spray-painted in unsightly black letters on the front of our house!
Anger swept through me, and I marched directly across the street, beating on the door of the antagonistic neighbor, who opened it smugly, as if anticipating me.
With a shaky but firm voice, I threatened to contact the police if you ever came close to my house again.
“Go ahead, find a buyer for that house. You won’t last here,” she said with a giggle.
With a trembling but forceful voice, I cautioned, “Avoid my house.”
My sons cringed as her dog barked loudly behind her. She looked at them and smiled cruelly, saying, “Aw, are the little boys scared of animals? How cute.” She pushed the door open wider and allowed the dog to run forward.
“Enough!” I said as I gathered Dylan in my arms and drew Mike near as the boys screamed and ran out into the street.
I installed a security camera at the entryway that night, and if she wanted to start a war, she had picked the wrong mother to start it with. Her laughing echoed as we rushed out.
Her smile turned harsh as she looked at them.
After breakfast, Dylan asked if the boys could go outside to play, and the following morning began gloriously, with sunlight filtering through the curtains and, for the first time since moving in, me feeling hopeful as I woke up. The boys were happy, laughing as they ate their cereal.
I grinned and said, “Of course, but stay near the house.”
Their tiny voices rang with delight as they ran out the front door—until Dylan’s scream split the atmosphere.
I woke up feeling hopeful for the first time since moving in, as sunlight came through the curtains.
“Mom!” he exclaimed.
A huge moose stood near the fence, its antlers enormous and menacing, raccoons were all over the grass, and smaller wild creatures rushed around as if they owned the place. I dropped my mug and hurried, but the sight froze me.
I grabbed Dylan’s arm and said, “Inside!” Mike held on to my coat as we ran back inside, and my hands trembled as I locked the door.
I fled after dropping my mug.
A man in a dark hoodie and mask scuttled across the yard, throwing something over the fence—bags of bait—and I hurried to the security camera monitor, rewinding the previous night’s tape with a knotted stomach.
The animals had been purposefully attracted here.
My heart was racing, and I knew just who was responsible.
I hurried over to the security camera’s monitor.
I picked up the phone and contacted Steve in another country. “Is everything all right?” he said groggily.
I said, “No, it’s not. Someone threw bait in our yard, and this morning it was full of dangerous animals! The kids were scared. She’s getting worse, Steve. She won’t stop until—”
“Calm down,” he interrupted gently, “please don’t get involved in conflict. If you push back, it will only get worse.”
“Slow down,” he said quietly.
“You want me to ignore the fact that our children are being targeted?” I gritted my teeth.
“I’m telling you to think long-term and not give her ammunition.”
We hung up in rage, my rage clashing with his composure.
“You want me to ignore the fact that our children are being targeted?”
I sat at the kitchen table that afternoon after the kids had calmed down, looking at the mostly consumed pie I had made the previous day. Perhaps I was mistaken, and confronting her head-on wasn’t the best course of action.
I put the pie in a box, put it under my arm, and went down the street by myself this time—no kids, no rage, just one final opportunity to be at peace.
With my heart racing, I knocked on her door, and when she opened it, her eyes narrowed, then softened when she saw the pie.
Perhaps I was mistaken, and confronting her directly wasn’t the best course of action.
“Truce?” she inquired.
I forced a smile and responded, “Yes, truth.”
She moved aside and nodded for me to enter, and after a moment’s hesitation, I did so. The living room had a subtle incense scent, but it didn’t cover up the sharp, chilly edge of her presence. She then gestured toward the table, and I put down the pie.
She moved aside, motioning for me to enter.
I said, “Peace offering.”
“Well… I can’t say no to pie. Please, sit.” Her lips curved into a smile that was halfway between a smirk and a smile.
After cutting slices and sitting across from one another, we had a fairly cordial chat for the first few minutes. She inquired about my boys, and I told her about Mike’s fascination with dinosaurs and Dylan’s love of drawing.
Something between a smile and a smirk formed on her lips.
Finally speaking in a softer tone than before, she explained, “I didn’t mean to insult them the other day. It’s just… I like my peace and quiet. Kids can be loud, you know?”
“I understand, but I couldn’t stay silent when you insulted my children. They’re just kids. They deserve space to laugh,” I said, tightening my grip on my fork.
Her eyes wavered, and for a split second, I thought I saw true comprehension. “Perhaps I was too severe,” she said.
“I get it, but I couldn’t keep quiet when you made fun of my kids.”
I finally released some tension by exhaling. I thought maybe this would work. Perhaps she is a human being after all.
The baby monitor I had left on the kitchen counter suddenly came to life. Through the little speaker came a high-pitched scream.
“Mom! Mice! Mice! So many!Dylan’s voice filled the room with fear.”
My heart twitched. I sprang out of my chair and almost toppled it. “What did you do?I made a demand.”
“Mom! Mice! Mice! So many!Dylan’s voice filled the room with fear.”
Her lips were bursting with laughter as she leaned back. “Very delicious pie. I’m grateful, pal.As I ran out the door, she yelled after me.”
My heart pounding, I ran home. I rushed inside and saw the lads pointing at the floor while standing on chairs. Numerous mice were dispersed over the kitchen tiles, their small bodies squeezing into every crevice. Dylan held his brother while he sobbed.
Her lips were bursting with laughter as she leaned back.
My stomach twisted with terror and wrath as I picked them both up. The answer would come to me later: she had hired a teenager to let the mice out through a vent.
The final straw was that. One thing was extremely evident to me as I rocked my sobbing kids that evening: I will stop at nothing to hold her accountable.
My stomach twisted with terror and wrath as I picked them both up.
I sat at the dining table with a lawyer I had hired that evening. The wooden surface was covered with papers: timelines, complaints, and camera evidence. I trembled as I described everything: the mice, the animals, the dog, the bait, the graffiti, the shouting at the door, and the bait.
I remarked, “She’s crossed every line.” “In their own homes, my kids are afraid. I want the cops to be called. I want her actions to be seen by the court.”
The attorney nodded, composed but resolute. “You make a compelling argument. We’ll bring a civil lawsuit in addition to a criminal complaint. However, be ready—it can take some time.”
I sat at the dining table with a lawyer I had hired that evening.
A loud bang rocked the house before I could respond. I froze, as did the lawyer. Then there was a cry and a smoke odor. I jumped out of my seat and went running.
A plume of smoke and dust ascended from the neighbor’s property down the street. Part of her house had fallen.
Ignoring the lawyer’s shout behind me, I ran toward the carnage. It was a startling sight: the walls were tilting dangerously, and the roof had collapsed on one side. I heard a faint cry in the midst of the confusion.
A loud bang rocked the house before I could respond.
“Aid! Help, someone!”
She was stuck under a beam. I briefly reflected on everything she had done to me, including my anxious evenings and my boys’ cries of terror. However, instinct took over. Grabbing the beam’s edge, I exerted all of my strength. We liberated her together after the lawyer hurried in to assist. She coughed, alive but covered in dust.
Minutes afterward, firefighters and medical personnel showed up and escorted us back. The remainder of the home then moaned and fell into rubble in front of our eyes.
I briefly considered what she had done to me.
Her face was pale with astonishment as she sat on the curb, shaking.
“Are you in pain?” I asked quietly.
She gave a headshake. “No, just bruised. But everything is gone, including my house.”
“You can stay with us, at least until you find another place,” I answered softly after hesitating.
Her face was pale with astonishment as she sat on the curb, shaking.
She started crying. “Following my treatment of you? Considering what I did to your children?”
I remarked, “You’re still human.” “And they deserve to see that, despite cruelty, kindness can exist.”
Initially, she declined, her back tensed with pride. However, she showed up at my door with a pie a few days later. Her speech was weak and her eyes were crimson.
She started crying. “Following my treatment of you? Considering what I did to your children?”
“I apologize,” she muttered. “This morning, the inspectors stopped by. They claimed that mice chewed through the wooden foundation beams, causing the collapse. I was destroyed by my own trap.
Stunned, I gazed.
“What about the insurance?” I inquired.
She gave a headshake. “I neglected to renew my policy because I was so focused on battling you. There won’t be any compensation. Nothing.” Her voice broke. “Karma punished me in that way.”
“I apologize,” she muttered.
She let her defenses down entirely for the first time. Not as a bad neighbor, but as a lady shattered by her own resentment.
I just said, “Stay.” “Until you’re able to stand again.” This war must cease.
Her mouth quivered into a flimsy smile. For once, there was hope for peace rather than animosity in the silence between us.
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