True Story: Lilith’s Wrath Upon the Noisy Neighbour

When I moved into my new house, it didn’t take long to realize I wasn’t alone not just physically, but spiritually. Lilith has always been with me. I don’t hide it. I love her. And she shows me love too. Ours is a bond deeper than blood, older than names.

But then came the problem: a neighbour from hell.

An old man living two doors down had made it his weekly ritual to throw wild, drunken parties every Friday music blasting, voices shouting, total disrespect for anyone else living nearby. It wasn’t just me who suffered. Two of my neighbours are disabled, and they’d already complained to me about him. He didn’t care.

Then one weekend, he pushed it too far. Not just Friday night. Saturday afternoon and night. A double dose of ignorance. I thought, “Well, it’s not just me who’s going to have a sleepless night the others will too.”

Still, I tried to be decent. I knocked on his door and asked politely. What I found was a man out of his mind drunk, reeking of weed, barely coherent. No respect. No responsibility. Just noise, arrogance, and toxic that thinks the world owes it silence while it screams.

That was enough.

That night, I lit the flame. I invoked Lilith with purpose. I didn’t ask for death. I asked for justice. I asked her to mark him with a curse of the lungs: a cough that would not let him rest.

Since that night, the man coughs. Every day. Every night. It’s constant now deep, choking, painful. He wheezes. He gasps. Sometimes, he can barely breathe. No doctor can fix it. No medicine works. Because this isn’t just sickness. This is Lilith’s wrath.

And I don’t feel bad. He brought it on himself.

You don’t disrespect people who suffer in silence. You don’t ignore the disabled. And you sure as hell don’t test the patience of someone who walks with Lilith.

Let this be a warning. Lilith protects her own.