An increasingly heated argument starts when Julia declines to pay her neighbor $2000 for a small dog accident. Julia is dealing with family issues and navigating the chaos as tensions grow. But Julia loses it and plans some heinous retaliation after her neighbor paints over her windows.
Allow me to share with you the story of the moment I nearly went insane while residing in a quiet suburban neighborhood.
I’m Julia, and I shared this sweet small home with my husband Roger and our ten-year-old son Dean for more than 10 years.
As long as you disregarded the ongoing concern for Roger’s well-being, everything was fairly wonderful. However, when Linda moved in next door, everything was different.
Linda. The mere thought of her makes my blood boil. We never got along from the day she came in with her golden retriever, Max.
At first, it was simply small things, like her loud music or the fact that she allowed Max go anywhere he wished, nothing serious. However, things took a bad turn one sunny afternoon.
Max came running over to me while I was cutting my roses in my backyard, wagging his tail like he owned the place. Really sweet dog, but intrigued. He took in certain scents, and before I knew it, he yelled.
The poor creature has a little thorn embedded in his paw. I bent down, comforted him, and carefully pulled the thorn out. I patted Max’s head after he licked my fingers.
I accompanied him back to Linda’s, perhaps anticipating a thank you. Rather, she merely stood there, frowning and with her arms crossed.
Why does my dog have a limp? How did you act? She lost her temper.
“He simply trod on a small thorn,” I retorted, attempting to remain composed. “I removed it, and he seems OK.”
She gave a huff, and I assumed that was it. How incorrect I was!
One morning, I discovered a message affixed to my door. “You owe me $2000 for Max’s treatment,” it said.
I was astounded as I stared at it. Two thousand dollars? For what purpose? The dog only received a small cut. I made the decision to visit and make everything clear.
Linda, what’s the deal? I asked, pointing to the message.
Her tone was cold as she continued, “That’s for Max’s vet bill.” “That thorn caused him pain all through the night.”
“I apologize, but that is absurd,” I answered. “As a gesture of goodwill, I’ll give you $100, but two thousand is out of the question.”
Linda squinted her eyes. “You’ll regret it or you pay up.”
Linda turned my life into a living misery the moment she met me.
Every time she drove by, she would flip me off, honk, and tip over my trash cans. Her attempt to have Dean arrested was the worst. Dean, my sweet, naive boy, was simply riding a minibike like all the other kids in the area.
I was enjoying a cup of tea on the veranda one afternoon when I heard Linda’s car horn familiarly screaming. Glaring at Dean, who was playing in the driveway, I looked up.
She said, “Get that brat off that bike before I call the cops!”
“Linda, these are only children!” Feeling my patience wane, I yelled back.
She shot back, “Your kid is a menace, and if you don’t do something about it, I will.”
I was unable to yell, weep, or take action, even though I wanted to. Since Roger was back in the hospital, I was already overburdened with trying to keep things together. Taking a deep breath, I looked up at Dean.
I kindly murmured, “Come inside, honey.” “We’ll switch up the game.”
With tears in his eyes, Dean argued, “But Mom, I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I understand, my love. Simply put, it’s complicated.
I made an effort to ignore Linda’s shenanigans and concentrate on Roger and Dean. However, it felt as though a ticking time bomb was nearby. I was always afraid of what she might do next. Finally, she pushed me over the edge.
I got the call in the afternoon of a Sunday. Roger’s condition had gotten worse, and I had to head to the hospital right away.
After gathering our belongings, I dropped Dean off at my mother’s house and hurried to the hospital.
I stayed by Roger’s side for two excruciating days, not eating or sleeping, my mind racing with worry and tiredness.
Upon my return, all I wanted was a little break, an opportunity to regain my composure.
Upon walking up my driveway, I discovered that my house had been turned into a nightmare for graffiti artists. Paint in the colors red and yellow spattered my windows, dripping in unkempt streaks.
My house appeared to have been attempted to be converted into a circus tent. And there it was, Linda’s note “Just to make your days brighter!” sitting on the doorstep!
A house covered with paint splatters | Source: Midjourney
I was shaking with fury as I stood there, my fatigue from the previous two days melting away in the fire of my fury. That was it. This was the tipping moment.
I clinched my teeth and whispered, “Dean, go inside.”
“But Mom, what took place?” His eyes wide with terror and perplexity, he questioned.
I said it again, softly this time, attempting to maintain my composure. “Just go inside, honey.”
Dean gave a nod and rushed inside, leaving me to harbor my rage on my own.
With my thoughts racing, I crumpled Linda’s paper in my hand. It had to end. Linda was going to get a war if that was her desire.
I took a drive to the hardware shop that afternoon. I strolled through the aisles, my rage melting into a detached, analytical concentration. When I saw the Japanese Beetle traps, a strategy started to take shape.
I purchased multiple packets of the beetle-attracting smell lures and traps. I put the aroma packets in the freezer as soon as I came home. The wax would be easier to work with in the cold. Anxiety mixed with excitement caused my heart to race. This needed to function.
I slipped into Linda’s yard at three in the morning while the neighborhood was silent due to the darkness.
I had the impression of a figure from one of Roger’s favorite spy films. My heart leaped at the sound of every distant leaf rustle. However, I was adamant. I hid the smell packets behind the layers of mulch in Linda’s well-kept flower beds.
By the time I was done, the first rays of morning were appearing.
I crept back inside my house, feeling my heartbeat finally begin to settle down. Despite being tired, I felt a sense of somber fulfillment as I got into bed. It was now a matter of waiting.
When I looked out my window the following afternoon, I noticed swarms of Japanese beetles descending on Linda’s garden. They were glinting in the sunlight. It was functioning.
Her lovely flower gardens were completely destroyed over the course of the following few days, the once-vibrant blossoms reduced to frayed remains.
Allow me to correct the information. Hi there, my name is Linda, and I came to this area in search of solitude.
My golden dog, Max, went into Julia’s yard by mistake and snagged a thorn in his paw, shattering that fantasy. She pulled it out as if she were doing me a favor, rather than just giving it back to him.
I asked Julia to pay Max’s vet bill the following day.
He was in discomfort and walking with a limp all night. However, she was so bold as to offer me just $100 rather than the $2000 it would have cost. I told her she would regret not paying up after our argument. Things didn’t seem to be getting out of control.
Yes, I did, a couple times knocked over her trash cans and honked as I went past, to let her know I wasn’t going to back down. However, Julia painted myself as the bad guy.
I didn’t know things had gotten out of hand until insects decimated my garden.
I was like a crazy woman, rushing around my yard. When I was picking away dead flowers on the third day, I noticed something strange hidden in the mulch. When I saw that it was a piece of plastic packaging—part of a Japanese beetle trap—my heart fell.
Someone had intentionally done this. And I knew who it was, very well.
My wrath blazing, I stormed straight to Julia’s house. I knocked on her door, presenting the proof that implicated her.
“Julia! Let yourself in!” I yelled, fury trembling in my voice.
Appearing composed as ever, she unlocked the door. “What’s going on, Linda?”
“You know what you did to my garden?” I threw the plastic fragment towards her. This was discovered in my flower bed. Yes, you did this, right?
Although Julia maintained a neutral expression, there was a hint of something—guilt, perhaps—in her eyes. “Lucina, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t tell me lies!” I let out a cry. “You destroyed my yard! Why would you act in this manner?
A wail sounded from within the home before she could respond. When I looked behind Julia, I noticed Dean, her son, seated on the floor with tears running down his face.
“Is Dad going to pass away, Mom?” With his tiny voice breaking, Dean cried.
Julia looked past me, her expression softening as she turned to greet her son. “No, sweetheart, everything will be OK. The medical professionals are exerting every effort.
I watched this scene play out while freezing in place. My rage seemed so trivial now.
Julia was more than simply my obnoxious neighbor; she was a mother taking care of her sick husband and her afraid child.
“Julia, I.” I opened my mouth, but my words stumbled. How do I put it? I hadn’t paused to think about what she might be going through since I was so overwhelmed by my rage.
With a look of fatigue on her face, Julia turned to face me. “Linda, I apologize for your garden. However, I didn’t do it. I can’t handle this anymore, let alone caring about your flowers.
My fight was gone from me. “I apologize too,” I said. “I had no idea that things were so horrible for you.”
She gave a nod, remaining silent. I recoiled, embarrassed by my own foolishness. How could it have gotten so out of control?
That being said, I kept to myself. I realized that Julia had enough on her plate and put an end to the small-time harassing. My garden recovered slowly, and although Julia and I never became friends, we were able to live in harmony together.
I still think about that period of time years later. Sometimes, in order to understand what others are going through, you have to look past your own problems. Even though Julia and I have remained estranged neighbors, we have a silent respect for one another that was developed through hardship.
Though it has been romanticized for artistic purposes, this work draws inspiration from actual individuals and events. For reasons of privacy protection and story improvement, names, characters, and details have been changed. Any likeness to real people, alive or dead, or real events is entirely accidental and not the author’s intention.
My Stepmom Gifted Me a Funerary Urn for My 17th Birthday
As Lila was ready to celebrate her 17th birthday, she received an unexpected and creepy gift from her stepmother: a pink funerary urn. Like the type you keep ashes in? Yes, that’s the one. But that’s not all! Lila learns that her college fund was given to Monica to open her salon. What will Lila do?
Let me tell you, I’ve been sitting on this one for a few days, just trying to make sense of what went down.
I always thought my stepmom, Monica, was the worst, though not Disney villain evil. She was the kind of person who talks over you, forgets your birthday, and calls you “kiddo” when you’re practically an adult.
A smiling teenage girl | Source: Midjourney
But, what she pulled on my 17th birthday? It shattered whatever shaky truce we had.
At least, that’s what I thought. Turns out, things weren’t exactly what they seemed.
Here’s how it all went down.
My mom, Sarah, died when I was ten, and after that, it was just Dad and me. We were a solid team. The type of team that has pizza for dinner half the week, late-night movies, and this unspoken agreement that we’d always have each other’s backs.
Two boxes of pizza on a coffee table | Source: Midjourney
Then came Monica, about three years ago.
At first, she wasn’t horrible; she was just… there. Like a stray cat that never leaves, so you have no choice but to adopt it. Monica moved into our house, took over the bathroom with her fifty bottles of face serums and creams, and slowly pushed her way into my dad’s world.
Monica had big dreams of opening a hair salon, which was fine. I wasn’t against people having dreams. I had my own dreams waiting for me, but she treated me like I was just this annoying piece of furniture that came with the house.
A woman’s vanity | Source: Midjourney
Honestly, I was counting down the days until I could escape to college.
Dad had promised me since middle school that there was a college fund waiting for me.
“Don’t worry, sweet girl,” he told me. “Your mom and I put together the fund when you were five. There’s more than enough, and every year on your birthday and Christmas, I add more.”
A smiling little girl | Source: Midjourney
“Thank you, Dad,” I said. “I just want to study and make something of myself, like Mom said.”
“You only have to worry about your grades, Lila,” he said. “I’ll handle the rest.”
Naturally, I worked my butt off in school, knowing that in a few years, I’d be out of here.
A smiling man | Source: Midjourney
College was my golden ticket, and no one — not even Monica — would stand in my way.
At least, that’s what I thought.
On the morning of my 17th birthday, I came downstairs expecting the usual lukewarm effort. By lukewarm, I mean a sad card, some pancakes, and Monica forgetting my favorite syrup. Dad was at work, so it was just Mon and I.
A plate of pancakes and a card on a table | Source: Midjourney
She handed me a gift bag, which was already weird because Monica wasn’t exactly the thoughtful or sentimental type.
“Happy Birthday, kiddo,” she said, flashing one of her tight-lipped smiles.
I wasn’t expecting much, but I sure as hell wasn’t expecting this.
I reached inside the bag and pulled out… an urn.
A shocked teenage girl | Source: Midjourney
A funerary urn.
You know, the kind that people store ashes in. Cold, heavy, and, well, pink. It was pink.
I just stared at it, my brain short-circuiting.
“What the hell is this?” I asked, holding the urn like it was cursed.
A pink funerary urn | Source: Midjourney
Monica leaned against the kitchen counter, smug as ever.
“It’s symbolic,” she said as if that explained anything.
“Symbolic of what?”
Monica’s grin widened.
A smiling woman in a kitchen | Source: Midjourney
“It’s time to bury your dreams of college, kiddo. Your dad and I talked about this, and we decided to put the college fund to better use.”
“Better use?” I asked, a cold shiver running through me.
“Yep. We’re investing it in my hair salon. College is a gamble, Lila. A business? That’s something real, sweetie.”
A hair salon being renovated | Source: Midjourney
She sipped her coffee like she’d just said the most reasonable thing in the world.
I was frozen in place, trying to make sense of what I’d just heard. Had they really taken my future, everything I’d worked for, and sunk it into Monica’s salon dream?
“How could you do this?” I whispered.
Monica just smiled, a little too pleased with herself.
A shocked teenage girl | Source: Midjourney
“Life’s full of disappointments, kiddo. Better get used to it now,” she said.
Wow.
That was it. I was done. I ran upstairs, slamming the door behind me so hard that the walls shook.
I cried so hard it hurt. What else could I do? Everything I had been holding onto was gone, and the only person I thought I could count on, Dad, had let this happen.
An upset teenage girl | Source: Midjourney
My mom wanted me to get out and make something of myself. And now? It was all over.
The next few days were a blur. I didn’t speak to Monica or my dad unless I absolutely had to. Every time I looked at that stupid urn sitting on my desk, my stomach twisted.
I couldn’t even bring myself to throw it out. It felt like some kind of morbid evidence. Like proof of the betrayal I didn’t see coming.
A pink funerary urn on a desk | Source: Midjourney
At school, my friends tried to cheer me up.
“Maybe she thought it was funny, Lila,” my friend Kira said. “Like, who really knows what Monica is thinking?”
“And anyway, there’s nothing stopping you from throwing it out! Just do it! Don’t overthink it,” Mel said.
Three teenage girls | Source: Midjourney
But still, I couldn’t focus on anything other than the fact that Monica was prancing around, acting like she was the queen of the house, while I sat there with no future.
Then, a few days later, something strange happened.
When I got home from school, there was a note on my desk. Not in an envelope, just folded, with my name written in Monica’s messy handwriting.
A woman sitting on a couch | Source: Midjourney
Meet me at the salon at 6 P.M. tonight. No questions. Just trust me. -M.
I almost laughed out loud. Trust her? Yeah, right.
But something about the note gnawed at me. Maybe it was the fact that I wanted to confront her one last time, tell her exactly what I thought of her.
Against my better judgment, I decided to go.
A note on a table | Source: Midjourney
When I got to the salon, the lights were off, and the front door was unlocked.
I hesitated for a second, wondering if this was some elaborate prank. But curiosity got the best of me.
I stepped inside, and there they were. Monica and my dad, standing side by side, both grinning widely.
“Surprise!” Monica shouted, throwing her arms up like this was the happiest moment of her life.
The entrance to a salon | Source: Midjourney
I just stared at them, completely lost.
“What is this?”
Monica stepped aside, and that’s when I saw it — a shiny, brand-new sign mounted on the wall.
Dream Cuts: A Scholarship Fund in Honor of Sarah
I blinked, feeling like the room was tilting on its axis.
A hair salon | Source: Midjourney
“What… what is this?”
Monica smiled, but it wasn’t her usual smug grin. This one was softer, almost real.
“We didn’t use your college fund, kiddo. It’s all still there. The salon? It’s not just for me. It’s for you, too. For other kids like you, too.”
I couldn’t breathe.
A smiling woman | Source: Midjourney
“But then, why would you make me think otherwise?” I asked.
Monica winced, putting her hand on her head.
“Yeah, so, the urn thing… That was not my best idea. I thought it’d be motivational, like, bury the past and embrace the future. You know? But it turns out that it was just creepy.”
A woman with her hand on her head | Source: Midjourney
I stared at her, speechless.
My dad stepped forward, wrapping an arm around my shoulder.
“We’ve been planning this for months, Lila,” he said. “Your mom always wanted to help kids get to college. This salon is going to fund scholarships. For you and for others in her name.”
“The salon has been my dream, Lila,” Monica said. “But it was never going to come at your expense. This way, a great portion of all our profits in the future will go to the fund.”
A smiling man | Source: Midjourney
I didn’t know what to say.
Or what to think.
Just that I felt a warm haze take over me.
Monica laughed softly.
“I’m not a monster, darling,” she said. “I just didn’t want you to think that I was trying to take over your mom’s role.”
A smiling woman | Source: Midjourney
For the first time in a long time, I smiled.
It wasn’t perfect, but things with Monica probably never would be. But, at that moment, standing in the middle of a salon named for my mom’s dream, I realized that she wasn’t trying to ruin my life.
She was trying to build something bigger than any of us.
A smiling teenage girl | Source: Midjourney
And somehow, against all odds, it felt like a new beginning.
And yeah, I kept the urn. But I planted white peace lilies in it, thinking it would be symbolic after all. And who knows, maybe I’ll take the urn to college.
What would you have done?
Peace lilies planted into a pink funerary urn | Source: Midjourney
If you enjoyed this story, here’s another one for you |
I Transferred $24K to My Daughter for Her College Tuition, Only to Discover She Never Enrolled — What She Spent It On Made Me Pale
Caroline had been saving for her daughter’s college fund since Angela was born. But after a classmate of Angela’s reveals that Angela is not actually enrolled in college, Caroline must uncover what her daughter is doing and what she used the money for.
Children are always going to break your heart. This was something that I learned the hard way after trusting my daughter, Angela, completely.
A close-up of a smiling girl | Source: Midjourney
Since Angela was born, I have been saving for college. I needed to know that irrespective of what life threw my way, I would be able to educate my child.
“I think you can wait until she’s a little older,” my husband, Holden, said. “We can do it together.”
“You can add to her college fund later,” I said, looking at my baby girl. “But I’m going to start from next month. I wasn’t able to study, Holden. And it was because we didn’t have the opportunity to do so. Angela is going to get that opportunity.”
A smiling baby girl | Source: Midjourney
“Okay, Caroline,” my husband said. “You start it now, and I’ll add to it in a year. The house will be paid off, and I’ll be able to put that money into the fund.”
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
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