Yeah, that woman cannot stand me.
It all started 7 years ago, after my mom passed away from a cold that just wouldn’t go away. Before I knew it, my dad was seeing Carla, and a year later, he married her.
“Your father doesn’t waste any time, does he?” my aunt sniffed on the day of the wedding. “And who is Carla anyway? She’s nothing compared to your mom!”
Carla was fine at first. I mean, she tried hard to get me on her side. But slowly, the passive-aggressive jabs started piling up. I remember once, I caught her staring at me.
“You look too much like your mother, Emily,” she said. “It actually pains me to look at you. No wonder your father gives Mason more attention. He’s closer to Mason right now, isn’t he?”
I sighed and ignored her, trying not to let her words get to me.
My dad, of course, didn’t notice a thing. It was like he couldn’t—or just wouldn’t—see how Carla treated me. And she loved that. She loved being the only one ready to taunt me.
Anyway, fast forward to prom season. Like every other girl in my class, I was dreaming of the perfect night. I saved up enough babysitting money for months to buy a gorgeous violet dress.
I couldn’t help but wish that my mother was around to spend these moments with me.
But that’s why I chose the violet dress. It was her favorite color.
Prom was going to be my night. I just knew it.
Whenever I thought about it, I just felt like something magical was going to happen at prom. To make myself feel even better, I booked a hair appointment at a fancy salon. All my friends were going there too.
Everything was set.
But then the big day came, and Carla made sure to ruin it.
I went to the salon, all excited, but when I got there, the receptionist looked at me, confused.
“Emily? Are you sure?” she asked, looking at her computer screen. “Zelda told me that you canceled?”
“I didn’t!” I exclaimed. “Why would I? Prom is this evening!”
“Calm down, honey,” the receptionist said. “I’ll get Zelda.”
I waited impatiently while she went to get the hairdresser. Finally, they returned.
The hairdresser looked uncomfortable.
“I got a call earlier today saying that you wanted to cancel your appointment, Emily. I assumed that it was your Mom?”
My heart dropped. Canceled? How? I didn’t cancel it! What mom?
I was still processing everything when I looked over and saw her.
Carla.
Sitting there, getting her hair done. Of course.
She saw me and just smirked, her eyes cold as steel. Carla had canceled my appointment.
“Is there any way that you could still schedule me in?” I asked Zelda.
She shook her head sadly.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “When your appointment was canceled, a woman called in and booked her own. All of our slots are taken. I’m sorry, honey.”
I stood there in shock. So, Carla had called pretending to be me? Pretending to be my mom? And then she took my appointment so that she could watch me be disappointed?
Sick.
I barely managed to keep it together as I ran out of the salon, my head spinning. I felt nauseous.
My perfect prom? It was just falling apart around me. By the time I got home, I locked myself in my room, tears pouring down my face.
I sat at my dressing table trying to fix my hair on my own, but nothing looked good. I felt stupid for telling Carla my plans in passing.
See what had happened?
I looked at my dress, hanging off a hanger.
I wasn’t even sure that I wanted to go to prom anymore.
I sat there, looking at my makeup sitting on my dressing table and wondered if it was even worth it. I mean, what was the point? I was already upset and didn’t feel like anything good was going to come from this.
Suddenly, I heard this loud honking outside. I ignored it at first, thinking it was just a random car.
A teenage girl’s dressing table | Source: Midjourney
A teenage girl’s dressing table | Source: Midjourney
But it didn’t stop.
I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand and dragged myself to the window, fully expecting to see commotion on the road. But when I looked out, my jaw dropped.
A glossy black limousine was parked in front of our house.
I thought it was some sort of mistake. There was no way that the car was for me. My friends’ parents had said no when we first talked about it months ago. But still, I ran downstairs.
I stood at the doorway, waiting for something to happen. The driver stepped out and walked up to our front door. My dad, who had been as clueless as ever during all of this, stood on our porch, looking as confused as I felt.
“I’m here for Miss Emily, sir,” the driver said, holding out a small card.
Miss Emily? Me?
“She’s right here,” my dad said, nodding to me.
I hesitantly took the card from my dad’s hand and opened it. Inside, written in neat handwriting, were the words:
To my beautiful sister, Emily. I know you’ve had a rough time lately, but you deserve the best night ever! Enjoy the limo, and don’t worry about a thing. I’ve been saving all my birthday and Christmas money.
Have a magical night, sis.
Love, Mason.
Mason? My 11-year-old brother did this?
I burst into tears all over again, but this time from pure shock and gratitude. I ran upstairs to find Mason in his room, grinning like he’d just pulled off the ultimate prank.
“I heard Mom on the phone this morning,” he said, shrugging like this wasn’t a big deal. “I knew that it wasn’t fair at all.”
Turns out that he had overheard Carla canceling my hair appointment, and in true little brother fashion, took matters into his own hands.
“But did you really use your money?” I asked him, feeling horrible.
“Not really,” he grinned. “See, Mom has been saving up money to buy some fancy diamond necklace. She’s been showing Dad the necklace, hoping that he would get it for her. But he said no.”
Good for you, Dad, I thought.
“Anyway, after I heard her phone call, she left home. So, I took some of the money from her stash, and went to Mr. Johnson next door. He owns the limo company, remember?”
But Mason didn’t stop there.
“There’s more, Em,” he said. “Mrs. Evans, from across the road? Her daughter is a stylist at the mall. She’s coming here to do your hair and makeup soon.”
Just as the words left his mouth, the doorbell rang.
“That should be her!” Mason said. “Go wash your face, I’ll send her up.”
When did Mason grow up? I wondered as I did what he said.
Twenty minutes later, I went from crying in my bedroom to looking like a princess. I just wished my mom was around to fuss over me. To take endless photos and tell me how proud she was of me. I wanted a hug from her more than anything.
But still, Mason had saved prom!
When Carla drove into our driveway, I was already outside, stepping into the limo like a movie star. Her jaw dropped. And she got out of the car and just stood there, stunned.
Her face? Oh my God. I wish I had a picture of her expression. I would have stuck it on my mirror!
“Richard? Did you do this?” I heard her shriek to my father before the driver closed the door.
Moments later, the driver whisked me away.
Prom was everything I had hoped for. When I arrived at the hall in the limo, heads turned. I was glowing, and I knew it. For the first time in a long time, I felt like my mom was right there with me.
The whole night was pure magic. Dancing, laughing with my friends, and just forgetting all the drama at home.
As for Carla, I hope she learned a lesson. You can’t mess with someone’s joy and get away with it… especially if your son is going to come in and save the day!
What would you have done?
I Asked My Neighbor to Clean Up After She Used My BBQ — The Next Day She Stuck Rules for My Property on My Door and Demanded I Follow Them
Camilla lets her new neighbor, Claire, use her grill… until she returns home to a backyard disaster. When she asks for basic respect, her neighbor demands that Camilla follow her rules. But when Camilla exposes the truth online, the fallout is far worse than anyone expected. Some lessons are only learned the hard way.
When my new neighbor, Claire, moved in six months ago, I thought she was normal. Like just a woman who would stay in her lane and not disturb the neighborhood too much.
A moving van and boxes | Source: Midjourney
I mean, she was in her 40s, lived with her 16-year-old son, Adam, and at first, she seemed chill. Friendly, even. I lent her a ladder, a garden hose, even let her use our outdoor grill station when we weren’t home.
I didn’t think much of it. It’s just being neighborly, right?
Wrong.
One weekend, my husband, David, and I took the kids to visit my parents.
A smiling woman with her son | Source: Midjourney
“We can have a date night while your parents take over with Grandma and Grandpa duty,” David said, packing snacks for the two-hour drive.
I had to admit, I was ready to get out of town for a while. I had been feeling restless, and I just wanted a change of scenery before I started to feel suffocated.
We were gone for two days.
And when we got back?
Containers of food on a kitchen counter | Source: Midjourney
My God.
Our backyard looked like it had survived a frat house BBQ apocalypse.
There were empty beer bottles littering the patio, my potted plants were turned upside down, and the kids’ toys were thrown everywhere. Grease stains covered the deck. Our once-beautiful grill station looked like it had barely survived an explosion.
I stood there, staring at the mess, my eye twitching.
A trashed deck | Source: Midjourney
Deep breaths, Camilla, I told myself. Maybe there’s an actual explanation for this.
So, I went next door and knocked. Claire answered, still in pajamas, looking completely unbothered.
“Oh, yeah,” she said, laughing. “That was Adam’s birthday party. You know kids, right? It’s just what they do.”
I blinked. My brain felt like it was ticking away.
A woman standing in her doorway | Source: Midjourney
That’s just what kids do? Was she mad? Didn’t she see the mess? What the hell?!
“My backyard isn’t a public park, Claire. You could’ve at least cleaned up.”
“Oh, don’t be so uptight, Camilla,” she said, shrugging. “It’s just a little mess. You’ll get over it. Surely, you and your husband can use a hose? A little bit of water will clear that up.”
A woman with her hands on her hips | Source: Midjourney
I could have thrown something at her.
Oh, I’ll get over it? Um, sure.
I went back to my home, trying to figure out what to do. I could be reasonable, or I could be erratic and make Claire pay.
“What’s that look on your face?” David asked as I walked into the kitchen. “Found the culprit?”
An annoyed woman | Source: Midjourney
“It was Adam’s birthday party. Apparently, that’s how he spent it.”
“Isn’t he, like, sixteen?” David asked, making me a cup of tea.
“Something like that,” I said, getting the jar of biscuits. “Oh my goodness. Underage drinking! There are so many beer bottles out there.”
David looked at me and laughed.
A frustrated woman | Source: Midjourney
“Every kid does it at least once, Cami,” he said. “But, I mean… you could use that as leverage, right? To scare the kid?”
I nodded.
“But I want Claire to feel something, too. She told me that we could just hose down the mess and that I’d get over it.”
We had our tea in silence while I tried to figure out what to do.
A jar of biscuits and a cup of tea | Source: Midjourney
Okay, Cami, I thought. Let’s try being reasonable first.
I grabbed a notepad and wrote down three simple rules:
- If you use something, clean it and put it back.
- Respect my property.
- Clean up after your child.
The next morning, I went over to Claire and handed it to her. I expected a mature response. But what I got in return was anything but.
A woman holding a sheet of paper | Source: Midjourney
The next day, I woke up to a list of her rules taped to my front door.
It was not a joke. It was Claire’s rules. For my property. My property.
I nearly choked on my coffee as I read the note.
A woman holding a piece of paper | Source: AmoMama
Dear Neighbors!
To keep things fair and neighborly, I’ve put together some simple rules:
Please follow these to avoid any issues.
- No grilling past 7 PM. The smell keeps me awake.
- No spicy seasonings when you’re cooking. My son doesn’t like the smell.
- If I’m using the grill, please stay out of the yard. It is distracting, and I don’t like when strangers watch me cook.
- Notify me before grilling so I know who’s using it. Schedules are key.
- Your garden hose is for community use. I may need it for washing my car and watering my garden.
- Patio furniture is for everyone!
- When you mow your side of the lawn, do mine too. It looks so much better that way.
- Be patient if my son leaves trash in your yard. Kids will be kids, and it’s not a big deal!
- Sometimes I need extra parking space. I might use your driveway when needed.
- Also, if you ever have concerns about these rules, feel free to discuss them with me. But please remember, I know what’s best for our community!
I’m looking forward to a harmonious neighborhood!
A woman reading from a piece of paper | Source: Midjourney
I read it twice to make sure that my eyes weren’t deceiving me.
This woman really thought she had just annexed my backyard into her personal kingdom. Then my eldest kid, Olivia, came running up, phone in hand.
“Mom, you need to see this,” she said. She showed me a video.
A girl holding her phone | Source: Midjourney
Claire’s son, Adam, had been posting TikTok videos.
From our backyard!
In the clips, he and his friends laughed about using our space like it was their personal hangout. And then they trashed the place on camera.
Oh. Oh.
I grabbed my phone immediately.
A close up of a shocked woman | Source: Midjourney
I walked to my backyard and filmed everything. The litter, the grease-stained grill, the beer bottles still rolling on the patio. I zoomed in on the ridiculous list of rules Claire had taped to my door.
And then I posted it on my socials.
As for the caption?
Glad my neighbor and her kid enjoy my backyard more than I do! Check out the rules she gave me!
Within three days, the video had 5 million views, with people sharing it like wildfire.
A phone opened to social media | Source: Midjourney
People flooded the comments:
Excuse me? Her rules?! For YOUR house?!
No way, put up a fence ASAP. These people are insane.
What game is she playing at?
Tell me you have an entitled neighbor without telling me you have an entitled neighbor.
Comments on a social media post | Source: Midjourney
Then someone offered to help.
A man in the comments said that he specialized in building chain-link fences. By the end of the week, my backyard was sealed tighter than Fort Knox.
There were no more:
Oops, my son and his friends needed a place to hang out!
I just needed to wash my car real quick, Camilla.
A fence dividing two houses | Source: Midjourney
If Claire wanted access to my space… too bad, because she wasn’t getting it. And she noticed the fence immediately.
She stormed over, holding a wooden spoon, and pounded on my door.
“You’re breaking my rules!” she screeched. “Goddammit!”
I smiled sweetly.
A woman standing at her front door | Source: Midjourney
“What’s with the spoon?” I asked. “What have you been baking?”
She looked at me like I was mad.
“I said that you’re breaking my rules, Camilla!”
“Oh, sorry,” I said, my voice dripping with fake innocence. “I just thought since we had different house rules, it was best we keep things separate.”
An upset woman holding a wooden spoon | Source: Midjourney
She fumed.
I sipped my coffee and smiled.
My water bill improved overnight. Suddenly, Claire didn’t have access to my hose anymore. My driveway stayed empty because there was no more free parking for her.
And then…
Two days later, there was a knock on the door around dinnertime.
A woman reading a book | Source: Midjourney
Not Claire.
Adam.
The 16-year-old looked absolutely miserable.
“Ma’am, please,” he muttered. “Please… you’re ruining my life.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
A teenage boy standing in a doorway | Source: Midjourney
“Those videos that you made,” he groaned. “Now I have trouble at school because of you! At first, I thought it was cool and that nobody would notice anything. But then people realized that it was me. And now they won’t let me live it down.”
Oh, so he outed himself and he was mad about it?
I tilted my head.
Students sitting in a classroom | Source: Midjourney
“Oh, that sounds rough, buddy,” I said. “But you know, actions have consequences. Do you understand that you should have just cleaned up after yourself? There was no need to trash the place. I was fine with you using it. I was fine with you having your friends around. But what you did…”
“Yes, I do understand,” he said quietly.
“Okay,” I said. “I’ll delete the videos. But please remember, do not use someone else’s property as your own. Don’t take advantage of a good thing.”
A woman standing in a doorway | Source: Midjourney
He nodded and walked away.
The night air was cooler than usual, and the quiet hum of the neighborhood felt almost… peaceful.
I stepped outside, tightening my robe around myself as I walked toward the trash bins. The motion sensor flicked on, casting a harsh yellow glow over my yard.
And that’s when I saw her.
A woman holding a bag of trash | Source: Midjourney
Claire.
She was leaning against the side of her house, a cigarette dangling between her fingers.
Her shoulders were curled inward, and her hair was messy and unbrushed. She looked nothing like the smug, entitled woman who had taped her ridiculous rules to my door.
For a second, I considered ignoring her.
A woman smoking outside | Source: Midjourney
But then she exhaled slowly, tilting her head toward me.
“You win,” she muttered, her voice hoarse.
“Excuse me?” I asked.
She took another drag from her cigarette and then laughed quietly to herself.
A woman holding a cigarette | Source: Midjourney
“You heard me, Camilla,” she said, waving the cigarette in the air. “You won. Congratulations. You should see what people are saying about me…”
I stared at her, trying to decipher her tone. It wasn’t mocking. It wasn’t even angry. It was just… tired.
Defeated.
I dropped the trash into the bin, dusting off my hands.
“Not really sure what you mean, Claire,” I said. “I didn’t realize this was a competition.”
Two outside bins | Source: Midjourney
She scoffed.
“Oh, come on, Camilla,” she muttered. “We both know what this is. You didn’t like how I did things, so you went nuclear. You put my kid on blast, for goodness’ sake. You ruined his life.”
I crossed my arms.
“Adam ruined his own life,” I said flatly. “I didn’t force him to throw a party in my yard. I didn’t force him to post videos bragging about it. And I sure as hell didn’t force you to act like my backyard was yours.”
An upset woman | Source: Midjourney
Her nostrils flared, but she didn’t argue.
For once.
She exhaled again, staring out at the darkened street.
“Do you know how hard it is to raise a teenage boy alone?”
I blinked slowly. That was… unexpected.
A woman standing outside | Source: Midjourney
I stayed silent.
She let out a humorless laugh, shaking her head.
“Adam doesn’t have a dad,” she said. “Never did. It’s just been us. And I tried to give him a good life, I did. But…” she shrugged. “Kids are kids, right? He made a stupid mistake.”
I narrowed my eyes.
A teenage boy sitting on a couch | Source: Midjourney
“Claire, this wasn’t just a stupid mistake.”
She didn’t answer. She just took another slow drag.
“You know,” I said, my voice calm but firm. “I could have taken things a lot further.”
That got her attention. Her head snapped toward me.
“What?”
A woman standing outside | Source: Midjourney
“Seriously, Claire. You gave me rules for my own house. You let your kid treat my property like his playground. And when I asked for basic respect, you laughed in my face.”
She just stared at me.
“I could have taken legal action. I could have pressed charges. I could have gone to the police. I had enough proof. But I didn’t. I’m not a bad person, Claire. I just don’t like being walked all over.”
The exterior of a police station | Source: Midjourney
For the first time since I met her, she looked small. She turned away, flicking the ash from her cigarette.
“Yeah,” she muttered. “I get that now.”
I watched her for a second, letting the moment sit between us.
Then I nodded.
“Good.”
And with that, I turned and walked back inside, leaving Claire in the dark.
A woman walking back to her home | Source: Midjourney
What would you have done?
If you enjoyed this story, here’s another one for you |
When Brooke returns home from a weeklong work trip, she’s eager to unwind with her favorite snack. But her peanut butter jar is mysteriously half-empty. Her husband, Aaron, is allergic, so who ate it? Determined to uncover the truth, Brooke turns to their security cameras and discovers a shocking secret: Aaron had been hiding a guest. What starts as suspicion unravels into an emotional journey neither of them expected.
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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