I got reports on a man getting harassed in Bunker Hill.
Indications points to it being several perpetrators, doing repeated organized attacks against the shop. Their identities are unknown.
Arriving in Bunker Hill, I met a kind, hard working man.
He owns a shop named Hilter, where he makes and repairs hilts for tools, swords, knifes and the like. You name it.
Despite it’s size, his quaint, little shack sees high activity, enabling a wide selection of items available for sale. This is much thanks to his open business policy where he takes on all the jobs he’s offered.
Immediately after introducing myself as a reporter, he, being the diligent craftsman he is, eagerly showcased his best work.
It was not apparent to me why someone would do any harm to this man. As far as I could see, he was nothing other than an asset to the community.
Hilter: I don’t know why or who is doing it, throwing rocks and breaking my stuff. The local authority is virtually non-existent, so no help there.
He sleeps at a shack nearby, since the store is filled with items. I offered to stay vigil around the corner to see if I could catch the perps red-handed.
I, of course, fell asleep after an hour of watching absolutely nothing happen. Didn’t sleep long though.
A bunch of kids woke me up from a confusing dream, for which I’m thankful.
Kid: He is a bad man. Why do you hang around with him?
Me: I’m a reporter. Catching stories is what I do.
Kid: Well, report this!
The kids walked up to the store in an almost ominous way and started throwing rocks at it. I flew as fast as I could over to the hilter and woke him up. He then ran to the store and confronted the kids.
Hilter: Stop it! I’m just a hilter. Why are you doing this?
Kid: You fascist!
They threw a few more rocks before running away.
I just had to tell him to stop. He now knew who’s responsible and could take care of it when he’d cooled down. Preferably with their parents.
Me: Leave them be. You know who’s responsible now. You can sort it out in the morning, preferably with their parents.
Hilter: You’re right.. I’m just so damn frustrated. This has been going on for so long. It’s gotten to the point where I’m losing customers.
Hilter: The damage is done, but I’ll rebuild. Somehow. Like many times before. It’s so sad. Oh, lords have mercy on me.
He went a bit dramatic here. The damage wasn’t that bad.
Walking further away from the shop trying to get some good shots, I noticed a possible explanation for the vandalism.
Me: Uhm.. The neon letters on the wall here. What do they say?
Me: Aha. You might want to take a closer look.
Hilter: Oh my. Haha! Now that you say it. I see it now. No wonder the kids were pissed. I wonder why the grown-ups here didn’t react to it though.
Me: How come you haven’t seen it before?
Hilter: I’m dyslexic. I asked a friend if he could make it for me. I just handed him a note with the order. He is a very polite fellow. Come to think of, too polite.
Me: Seems like you need some help getting that fixed. Shall we?
Hilter: Let’s get to work!
So, folks, the moral of this event is that if someone seems bad, it’s probably just a misunderstanding. Or, don’t have kids, or something. Not sure if there’s anything to learn from this. Maybe something along the lines of “Be a friend and tell them”.
Don’t be polite!
I’ll work on it.