Preface - Alastor
[Hi...
I'm your friendly (Not-so-friendly-in-my-dreams) neighborhood (pending) author - Tobey. Every time you see these big brackets around text, I want Uz to know it's my narrator voice talking directly to the reader.
A little "sumin-sumin" Uz should know about me?
I'm "phighting" psychosis.
Doing a bang-up job, though.
Must've fallen asleep around 4AM this morn. Only the wake myself at 7:30. Not for work or anything (it's Saturday - and even worse than that... I'm unemployed.)
But I had this burning desire to strike while the iron's hot today. The night terror was so good that I had to put pen-to-page before divine inspiration slipped.
So, I put on my "creepy pasta" playlist, and "Bury the light," came on off the bat. Boy, was excited about that. This book is the first in a series of fictional works that are inspired by my night terrors.
If nothing else,
I hope the reader finds some pleasure in my dark and twisted fantasies. I think Uz can call this story I'm about to tell an Isekai type fantasy, but who knows.
Fueled by a large cup of caffeine and two cigarettes for breakfast, there's not a lot that makes sense in these hours for me. But anyways, let's get it. The themes I want to pain for you here today is 'The Purge' meets 'Get Out.'
I hope you'll keep that in mind when Uz take a look inside of my artsy but fartsy natured soulscape.
What I'd like to get out the way first, is that I've given up on the notion of fighting the demonz. They always win in the end. So, if I have to live with them, and myself... then the least we can all do is get along.
So, instead of starving the Alastor (my sleep paralysis demon, btw) I decided to feed it one time and slowly but surely, we've become buddy-buddy over the last couple of weeks. He's been doing me the favor of allowing me my favorite switch on me in my terrors to fight back. "Switch" in the sense of a blade and not a semi-turnt-auto.
I favor UK over the typical US slang, which I should put out in the open there for any international readers who decide to join the party that even I don't want to be at.
Anyways, in exchange...
I've been offering Alastor more and more play time on occasion. It doesn't like it when I starve myself of sleep, as it has bad repercussions, ultimately ending in psychosis and a psychiatric hospital visit, where he can't get to me cause they fill me up with drugs that sedate me to the point where I'm even passive in my subconscious.
He really hates when I don't put on a show for him. I think he likes the blood and gore that I can produce in my dreams, so if you ask me... I don't think Alastor is an opp.
I think it's here to teach me to take my frustration out in videogames and subconscious fantasies and such.
Which honestly can't be all that bad of a deal, when you really put two-and-two together.
So, that brings Uz up to speed with the current state of affairs. I'd really wanted to sleep in today.
Fucc! But anywho, I think I should also plug my other piece of work, which is a non-fiction dark romance and I'm still working on it as of this moment.
And while it is a standalone dark romance novel which I try to work on and submit daily... it is the origin story that'll feed into all of the sequels and [most prolly prequels such as this series of "Phighting Psychosis."
It's called "The Rosy-eyed Black Cat," and I'm pretty sure that the title will not be changing after its three initial renamings.
It'll be long done and dusted before this series even sees the light of day. Just so the reader is aware of that bit of fact.
Unlike that novel that is just a pet-peeve project that helps me with my penmanship and is kind of a practice run... this series is a more serious and critically acclaimed piece of work.
I'm also running a new regiment whereby I only smoke two savannahs in the mornings with my mugga'joe, the proceed to run on murderous intent and naps throughout the daylight until the evenings when I ask Giza for money to buy a pack of smokes.
So, I find that I'm divinely inspired in the morning, and the writing comes easier; unlike last night's/early hours this morning's sesh whereby it felt like torture tryna get to word count.
I was busy with Live-in Domestic's sixth chapter and the idea to start this series was still cooking at that point until it was cemented by the AM's power nap and bloodbath.
Then spewing up the words that I wanted to say was a daunting task and every second of it was labored... but here and now, in writing this preface (which all my stories will include btw - so the Inkitt team need to get with the program and stop saving the first chapter of my books as 'chapter 1,') the words are flowing like a turbulent river.
I was literally ranting to my gurl-bestie Chante about how hard it was to write because she's invested in the story too (and without me even having to ask her to be, it was voluntary,) and she said that I shouldn't force it and instead it should be like water under a bridge.
I get what she means now. I've either entered a manic state, or I'm in Gawd mode/flow state.
Back to the point at hand,
There was a literal bloodbath in my dreams this time, Alastor has been feeding me more and more victims to 'murder' recently after discovering that I did in fact have a lot of fight left in me and would not continue to passively take beatings like I did when I was a boy.
To me it says that despite having been so suicidal for the majority of my life and surviving multiple attempts - they really just were cries for help, and I really didn't want to die.
'I just needed a friend.' - Amy Winehouse
Because through multiple failed attempts on my own life, the terrors tell me that it'd be a cold day in hell before I let another nigguh take what's minez to kill.
I really hope I can do some justice to that divine revelation that was my night terror this morn,
because it was - to say the least, a gorgeous display of the art of bloodshed and cynicism.
Okay,
so, without further ado, and with my two cigarettes for the daylight hours spent... let's get this ball rolling and this picture painted.]
There's a saying, I don't quite recall which comedian I heard say it first... it goes, 'I asked God to send me a woman. I pled that she be [Coloured,] but I will accept her however she comes.' - Rudy Franscisco
[I may be paraphrasing that entire bit and localizing it with the request that she made "Coloured," but Uz get the idea... it's basically one of those - insert your race here - pictures.]
But the Lawd knows that in the past I've been known to catch a local snowbunny where I could. As a matter of fact, my first 'true' love was a snowbunny, and I thought I knew love before her; but boy did she change my perception on that.
Needless to say, we lost whatever love that we'd had for each other...
despite her telling me that every time we'd make love that 'it was like she was letting me into/and giving me part of her soul.'
The misconstrued truths we fall for when we're young, cause if I really collected all those parts of her's then where are they now that I need 'em?
Scratch that.
I don't need 'em.
What matters is that we both tried, at the very least.
And, in the immortal word of the late but great XXXTentacion, "FUCK LOVE," bruv.
Anyway,
There's this girl I used to be fond of sometime last year (2024), well it's not so much that I had a crush on her or anything, but it's just that she was pretty but had a bit of a limp.
And please be warned that in this format of storytelling, time will follow the theory of relativity.
In that, gravity dictates when and where light is perceived. This is a difficult concept to grapple with, and full disclosure - I, myself do not fully understand it. However, this will not stand in the way of this fictitious endeavor.
[Back to the story...]
Me, being the softie that I am,
I made way and asked her out and such.
She was kinda into at first but at the same time not really, cause through my perspective of it all; I was a Coloured boy after all - just working for less than minimum wage at a Cafe in Port Side Central.
But I don't think that had all that much to do with it.
It was more like I crept her out with the questions I asked, relating to her shampoo or whatever.
I didn't get that vibe from her that she minded any of that, I got the vibes that she was more insecure about herself when I showed interest in her.
And Gawd knows I'm not dealing with that hot-n-cold behavior again after Hannah, so I let her go... and she went. Catch and release type-shii.
And that's relatively where this story begins.
