At first, I could only hear some screams from time to time. But a few months after I moved here, he renovated his place and must have changed something with the flooring, weakening its soundproofing capabilities. That was the moment I started to hear more and more.

The noise coming through the ceiling worked almost the same as the church bells but it did not measure the exact hours of each day. Instead, dry screams from the neighbors acted as a prelude to acts of abuse – both physical and mental.

Insults aimed at his daughter meant that she had to go to school. If they did not align with the church bells, she was late and could expect a beating. After that, it was quite calm for the rest of the day. I could only hear his loud TV running and the sounds of beer cans being opened at regular intervals. His wife’s arrival was announced by long and vociferous arguments, always followed by an even louder, lazy and long string of kurwas.

I flinched with every kurwa. I used to think that the word was funny. Of course, it was awful, crude and vulgar, but as with every vulgarism, it could convey emotions that other words could not. But in his mouth, it was just a comma, a way to fill gaps when his tongue was faster than his brain. Because of him, I hated that word now.

Every evening was filled with loud music, travelling through all the pipes and shafts in the blok. But it was hard to tell if it was music at all. It sounded like static or some kind of electronic noise with no melody or sense. The only comprehensible thing was the kick drums. They all sounded almost the same and helped to notice the real tempo of a particular song like a metronome.

I even went up a couple of floors once, just to see if it was as loud there, as it was on my floor. It was. And from that day on I wondered if I was the only person in the whole building bothered by his behavior.

Especially since later, at night, when all the inhabitants of the block were supposed to be asleep, only one kind of sound could be heard – yelling accompanied by the cacophony of beating. But the alcohol-induced angry screams ceased from time to time. And only then, if you listened closely, could you hear a whimpering whisper: “Please, dad. Stop.”

It was obnoxious and hearing it made me feel anxious. It reminded me of all the educational videos from my school days, where they constantly repeated that if you do not act on witnessing abuse, you accept it. That being the whistle-blower was not a bad thing.

But the thing was that it was still considered a bad thing here. All the boys in the classroom had always laughed it off, screaming that they would not be snitches. I blamed the communist era for that. Back then, we, the people, had to stand against the government, which was our enemy. All the officials, police and other national agencies were merely tools for the USSR’s puppet government to maintain control of our land. Now we were an independent country. Our agencies served us, the people. Not them. But I still cringed at the thought of being a snitch. Just thinking about filling out the paperwork and testifying made me uneasy.

The fact that the girl stopped crying helped me to still not make up my mind on this matter. I was also afraid that the child welfare officer would not do anything, as every other low-ranking official. And the impunity would only enrage the upstairs neighbor to beat her even more. And, if I could hear her, the other neighbors could too, right? Why didn’t they do anything about it? Were they afraid of the monster on the floor above? Maybe I should be afraid of him too? Was it really that bad? Maybe she deserved it? Should I not mind my own business after all, like all the others did?

I really wanted to come up with answers to all of these questions. But I pulled the blanket over my head instead, to block out the noise that began anew. I wanted to sleep.

(…to be continued…)

Transadaptation Volume 5 – Of Flowing Vicissitudes

January: The Night the Stars Stopped Shining – Sarah-Leah Pimentel (South Africa)

February: Three Sides to Every Story – Krisztina Janosi (Hungary)

March: Rain Trap – Adriana Uribe (Columbia)

April: Priorities – Narantsogt Baatarkhuu (Mongolia)

May: The Night in Heaven – Armine Asryan (Armenia)

June: Witches Don’t Burn – Alejandra Baccino (Uruguay)

July: A Regular Flat – Mateusz Tymoszewski (Poland)

August: Many Happy Returns – Svetlana Molchanova (Russia)

September: And Now, It Will All Go Downhill – Jonay Quintero Hernandez (Spain)

October: Planet Qirim – Anastasiia Leonova (Ukraine)

November: You Are Her, Aren’t You? – Seyit Ali Dastan (Turkey)

December: Culture Shock – Veronika Groke (Austria)

Background – Context

Transadaptation Volume 4: Material Dissent – Adulthood Transadapted, (eds.) Angelika Friedrich, Yuri Smirnov and Henry Whittlesey (2023)

Transadaptation Volume 3: Evanescent – Young Adulthood Transadapted, (eds.) Angelika Friedrich, Yuri Smirnov and Henry Whittlesey (2022)

Transadaptation Volume 2: Conceived – Childhood Transadapted, (eds.) Angelika Friedrich, Yuri Smirnov and Henry Whittlesey (2021)

Transadaptation Volume 1: In the Middle – Prelude to a Contemporary Transadaptation, (eds.) Angelika Friedrich, Yuri Smirnov and Henry Whittlesey (2020)

Peripatetic Alterity: A Philosophical Treatise on the Spectrum of Being – Romantics and Pragmatists by Angelika Friedrich, Yuri Smirnov and Henry Whittlesey (2019)

La Syncrétion of Polarization and Extremes Transposée, (eds.) Angelika Friedrich, Yuri Smirnov and Henry Whittlesey (2019)

The Codex of Uncertainty Transposed, (eds.) Angelika Friedrich, Yuri Smirnov and Henry Whittlesey (2018)

L’anthologie of Global Instability Transpuesta, (eds.) Angelika Friedrich, Yuri Smirnov and Henry Whittlesey (2017)

From Wahnsinnig to the Loony Bin: German and Russian Stories Transposed to Modern-day America, (eds.) Angelika Friedrich, Yuri Smirnov and Henry Whittlesey (2013)

Emblems and stories on the international community

Perception by country – Transposing emblems, articles, short stories and reports from around the world

Credits

Background image: Poland – Residential building of communist era – uslatar (Shutterstock)

Top row (from left to right): 1. Tomaszow Mazowiecki, Poland – Commuting – WrS.tm.pl (Unsplash); 2. Warsaw, Poland – On the street – Grand Warszawski (Shutterstock); 3. Tomaszow Mazowiecki, Poland – Residential bloks 2 – WrS.tm.pl (Unsplash)
Center image: Warsaw, Poland – The intersection – Grand Warszawski (Shutterstock)

Bottom row (from left to right): 1. Warsaw, Poland – Residential bloks – Tomek Baginski (Unsplash); 2. Ustronie Morskie, Poland – Residential buildings – Marekusz (Shutterstock); 3. Warsaw, Poland – On the street – Grand Warszawski (Shutterstock)

Source: The Codex of Uncertainty Transposed