Grenfell Superheroes

By Leonard Abrahams

"The most bizarre subject for a black comedy I've ever reviewed but surprisingly heart-warming and enlightening in its entirety. An amazing journey both physically and spiritually." MEUK

 

Mo Chow sustained several bullet wounds whilst guarding the Dalai Lama during the Tibetan 1959 uprising. Injured, he went on by foot to forged their leader's escape route over the freezing Himalayas. Fifty-eight years later, Mr. Chow sadly perished in the blaze that engulfed Grenfell residential tower. Sacrificed himself, held the stairwell's faulty fire doors shut to protect others from the lethal toxic smoke.

 

My name is Leonard Abrahams. Like you, I watched this horrific event unfold on TV, little knowing how it would change my life forever. Here's my extraordinary confession of how over three weeks I went from sitting behind my safe accountancy desk to smuggling this hero's ashes back into Tibet in an attempt to complete the sacred Mt Kailash Kora. 

 

A remarkable adventure of courage, blackmail and the inseparable bonds we share with strangers – in this lifetime and the next.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Leonard Abrahams
• Release date: Jun 22, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393795032

Book preview

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Grenfell Superheroes

Copyright 2017

V4.0

Leonard Abrahams

This ebook is licensed for your personal use only.

This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people.

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Disclaimer

Based on real events

In order to protect my future career within Her Majesty's Crown my story has been altered excessively. I didn't venture on the dates stated but rather in the year that followed using my annual leave. Any connection or reference to persons living or deceased is purely coincidental, likewise the use of firms and businesses. The police translator involved is a complete fabrication as not to revival the true sponsor of my astonishing journey. Furthermore I was only paid one nocturnal visit, it was neither lawyers acting on behalf of The Royal Borough of Kensington or the brave survivors of Grenfell. I've subsequently been given a lifetime ban from all Jewish establishments for giving an interview to a national newspaper.

* * * * *

Prologue

Grenfell Tower

Our homes are supposed to protect and keep us safe,

theirs was an execution chamber in which loved ones slept.

Thursday 15th June 2017

Events I didn't witness dramatised.

(Please skip to chapter one if too upsetting.)

Aftermath

Fire investigators carefully picked their way exploring the charred carcass of Kensington's smouldering residential tower. Scarred surfaces hissed and snapped from last night's horrific inferno. Baking heat emanated deep from within blistered walls. Not yet fully under control several fires burnt on the gutted block's upper levels. An eerie beacon visible for miles in summer's azure sky. Not since the Blitz had London's skyline changed so dramatically overnight.

Marshals discovered another body. Marked its location on their survey report. Overcome by smoke most victims perished on the building's solitary stairwell. Identification of this individual was made easier. The area surrounding the eighty-eight-year-old Tibetan refugee (Mo Chow) unnaturally unscathed.

Kneeling at the floor's access door. At first glance, the person appeared to be merely resting, taking a breather after climbing so many flights. His clothes free of soot.

The fire investigators surprised to see him. You're not supposed to be in here. They obviously thought that a returning resident had somehow managed to sneak past police. Nobody could've survived this. Excused me, sir? No response came. Believing this poor soul was overcome with grief, the older one of the men approached caringly. It's still dangerous. He reached out and touched the gentleman's shoulder.

They were talking to a corpse.

Melted from unimaginable heat Mo's hands had fused to the handles. He had managed to keep the faulty door sealed, for a time, abstaining toxic cyanide smoke from entering this section. Escaping witnesses claimed that he had remained calm. Fully aware of the direr consequence that his unyielding actions might result in. They had pleaded with Mo to leave. He refused to abate.

One survivor reported to the world's press that the tower's hero looked at peace. Willingly accepted his fate. Grenfell resident Mr Chow's selfless act of sacrifice directly contributed towards saving the lives of forty-two of his fellow evacuating neighbours.

He gave the gift of a second chance to so many, most notably me.

My name is Leonard Abrahams. I'm not a survivor of that awful blaze but a phoenix born from its embers. What follows is my incredible story of what happened afterwards.

* * * * *

Chapter One

England

23rd Friday June 2017

Strictly forbidden by my opinionated father to join my graduating classmates for an eventful gap year of wondrous cultural discoveries (propping up beach bars and getting inked) I immediately started employment at the accountancy department for The Royal Kensington and Chelsea council, favours called in by my dad.

For the first few years given the emotionally draining tasks of sieving through seemingly endless spreadsheets of micro-transactions looking for anything untoward. Rechecking expenditure that's already been approved and screened.

Being Jewish isn't an instant qualification with finance though I've always loved maths. Incredibly maths landed a man on the Moon but with the other darker pendulum swing of mankind's achievements produced the atomic bomb. Here is a source for unlimited energy, that's great let's weaponize it!

During my calculations, I noticed that refuse collection (withered flowers) from Kensington and Chelsea cemeteries was priced based on weight rather than volume. Original leaky galvanised buckets from around historical grounds had been stolen by unscrupulous buggers then sold on at London's trendy weekend markets for £35 a pop. Over the years they had been replaced with undesirable zero profit plastic tubs. Other borough cemeteries opted to install aluminium mesh bins that were emptied into larger wheelie bins for an easier centralized collection by fortnightly dustcarts.

I observed that the fee charged for the summer months decreased considerably. It wasn't from neglect or the absence of family members on holiday. It turned out to be the plain odd British weather. Precipitation the culprit. Watertight receptacles filled with rain added additional weight. The solution simple, drill drainage holes underneath the main bins. This would save the council £300,000 a year. Hoped the disposal firm wouldn't sue us for wanton criminal damage as they were about to lose a considerable wad of cash.

The task was given to each concerning grounds-keeper. Councils following the fire had come under increasing scrutiny, somebody had to be held accountable for every decision made. I was required to oversee the operation as it was my idea. Fairly certain that any cretin with a sharp stick could poke a hole without too much fuss. Didn't need me interfering but to be honest, it got me out of the office for two weeks as I made my rounds. The town hall was in lockdown after angry residents tempers flared and they had invaded our building. Staff told not to go outside for lunch.

I live