Sunday Night in G City

Alright, I finally made it. Damn, I wasn’t expecting to get into DC College, but somehow, I did. Feels like a dream. Am I dreaming? *Pinches himself.* Ouch, too real. Well, good news for me—DC’s the big leagues, full of talent, skill, and that competitive vibe. Not sure about my own talent, but I think I’ve got enough presence to hold my own.

*The clock ticks loudly in the background.*

12:30 already. I need to sleep, or I’ll mess up my first day at college. Nobody wants to start their first day half-awake.

*Time: 1:00 a.m.*

Still staring at the clock. Dark circles are starting to show. What is up with my sleep lately? It used to come easy, but now it’s playing hard to get, like an ex that suddenly wants nothing to do with you. I’m not going there—too boring to even talk about.

*Thunder rumbles in the distance.*

Wait, no thunder—just my stomach growling like it’s auditioning for a horror movie. Midnight cravings are real. Let’s raid the kitchen.

*Opens the fridge.*

Figures. Just veggies and random groceries. Mom’s hiding all the snacks again, thinking she’s doing me a favor. But wait, what’s that on the shelf? A box? Sweets? Jackpot.

*Starts shoving sweets into his mouth.*

*Mumbles.* Why didn’t Mom tell me about these? Whatever, more for me.

*Chokes suddenly.*

Cough! Cough! Damn, what the—? Where’s the water?

*Frantically opens the fridge, grabs a bottle, and chugs.*

Much better. But hey, what’s this? Soda cans? When did those get here? Maybe Mom and Sis had a secret stash. Or maybe it was Dad, though he’s too cheap for stuff like this. Weird. Were these cans even here when I opened the fridge earlier? Probably just missed them. Doesn’t matter. I’ll ask tomorrow.

*Time: 2:00 a.m.*

The clock keeps ticking, mocking me. My eyes are burning, but sleep’s still MIA. Fine, if I can’t sleep, let’s see what U-Tube’s got. Mythology and mythical creatures? Sure, why not? Norse, Greek, Celtic... let's dive into the Chinese gods tonight.

*Scrolls and watches.*

These stories are wild. Sun Wukong, The Jade Emperor—next-level stuff.

*30 minutes pass by.*

The Immortals, huh? Gods that can revive humans and make them immortal. So, they only make the dead immortal, or can the living get in on that deal too?

*Time: 3:00 a.m.*

*Yawns.* Immortality? Godhood? Having that kind of power would be insane. I’d run the world, do whatever I wanted. But that’s fantasy—nothing like that exists in real life.

Every mythology’s got its take on creation, gods, and the origins of humanity. Different stories, different gods, but are they really different? Or are they all the same, just with new names and faces? What if every myth is real, each one existing in its own universe? Or is it all just made up to make us feel small?

*Yawns again, eyes finally heavy.*

Man, what if it’s all real? What if somewhere out there, those gods are watching? I’ll never know, but it’s fun to think about. But not tonight. Sleep’s finally catching up with me.

*Falls into a deep sleep.*

Time: 4:00 AM

Narrator: It looks like Dhruv finally got his much-needed nap, and he’ll need it, because things are about to get crazy for him. What’s coming will change his actions, his world, and his perception. There are countless possibilities of what might happen—or what might not.

I don’t want to spoil anything, but I’ll narrate some details to give you a better idea. I’ve put key lines in *quotes* for clarity.

Hmm? Did I just see something moving in the kitchen? Let’s get back to the story...

What could it be? Maybe a cat or some other animal of similar size. It’s moving again. No, it’s too big for a cat. I need a closer look. Hmm, that doesn’t look like a cat—or anything familiar. It resembles a human head. Yes, it’s a human head, and it’s definitely a human. But who could it be? Why are they here? And most importantly, why are they lying on the floor?

I apologize for asking too many questions, but they’re relevant for the story’s progression.

It’s a woman with long black hair and pale, ghostly skin. But something’s off. Her face is utterly featureless. No eyes, no nose, not even a mouth.

Poor Dhruv didn’t notice her earlier—or maybe he couldn’t. Has she been here all along? But what is she? A skinwalker? A demon? A sprite? Or something entirely unknown? At first, I thought she might be a thief, but her strange appearance and movements suggest otherwise.

Now she’s crawling in an unsettling posture. She’s stopped behind the fridge. But why is she staring at it? We might need another backstory for this moment, but we’ll come back to it later when the time is right.

She’s been in the same position for a while—no movement, no action, nothing at all, like she’s frozen in time.

*She stands up and starts walking toward the narrator.*

Maybe I spoke too soon. She’s walking toward me. But why stop here? What does she want? Is she looking at me? This is strange. It feels like she’s observing me, but how could she? I’m the narrator—I can see these characters, but they can’t see me. I exist outside their universe.

I didn’t notice before, but she’s wearing a white kimono. Could she be a Japanese demon or yokai? She seems to be searching for something else. For a moment, I feared she sensed my presence, but it seems I was wrong. She’s heading towards Dhruv’s room.

Wait—what’s happening to Dhruv? Is he having a nightmare? He looks uncomfortable, sweating profusely. Something’s wrong. And now, what’s happening to her? She looks different—bulky, with veins protruding from her skin, and somehow, she’s grown a mouth filled with vampiric teeth. This is bad. What is she planning? Is she going to attack Dhruv? She’s growling, and her nails are extending into sharp, dagger-like claws. It’s clear—she’s planning to kill him.

I thought Dhruv was going to be the main character, but now, I’m not so sure…

The air is thick, heavy with the weight of unspoken dread. A dim glow barely illuminates the room, casting long, twisting shadows that writhe like serpents on the walls. The Yokai lurks in the corner, her presence as oppressive as the gloom itself. Sensual and dangerous, she exudes a heat that seems to warp the very air around her, a creature of both terror and temptation.

Oh, hello. How are you? I bet you’re eager for the story to continue. But if you were expecting a seamless tale, I have some bad news. The main character, Dhruv, already met his end at the hands of the Yokai, and the author seems lost in a sea of unwritten words, unsure how to carry the story forward. So, if you’re looking for a tale where the author has it all figured out, perhaps you should look elsewhere.

Hahaha! Look at your face. It was a joke—just a cruel jest. The story isn’t ending anytime soon. We have many chapters ahead, filled with wild twists and even wilder ideas.

Who am I, you ask? I can sense your curiosity. You might have mistaken me for the Author, or even the Narrator from Episode 2. But no, I am neither. Consider me The Narrator 2—sounds dreadful, doesn’t it? But I suppose it will do. As for the original narrator, he’s off spinning the tale of “Infected: A Villain’s Journey.” You might want to check that one out. He’ll join us here from time to time, so don’t worry—he’s not gone for good.

But enough about us. Look—there she is. The Yokai is poised to strike Dhruv, her movements graceful and menacing. Something writhes on Dhruv’s chest, though—a new creature, quite unlike the Yokai we’ve seen before. She’s small, her skin a sickly shade of green, with ears like jagged knives and a long, crooked nose. Her bones protrude through her skin like sharp edges, and her tongue—long, slimy, dripping with saliva—dangles from her mouth. She crouches on Dhruv’s chest, sucking the very life from his body. Dhruv looks pale, his life draining away with each slurp of her vile tongue.

What are these monsters? Why do they gather around Dhruv like moths to a dying flame? What do they want from him?

Sensing a presence, the green demon halts. She scans the room, her eyes narrow and calculating, even as she continues to siphon Dhruv’s essence. Her gaze locks onto movement in the shadows. The Yokai, emerging slowly, her face twisted into a wicked smile, eyes the demon hungrily. The green creature lunges, weak and desperate, but the Yokai is faster. With a swift flick of her dagger-like nails, she severs the demon’s head cleanly. The head rolls away, and the demon’s body crumbles to dust, the stolen energy flowing back into Dhruv. He stirs, regaining strength—perhaps more than he had before. Did the Yokai just save him? Or does she have something far more sinister in mind?

The original narrator had an impressive way of ending episodes, didn’t he? He toyed with your expectations, made you think the Yokai would kill Dhruv right there. But you were wrong—don’t feel bad. The narrator is skilled, a master of manipulation, weaving suspense like a web. But I can do it too. In fact, I can do it better.

Oh, and I don’t know if the other narrator mentioned this, but our Yokai has quite the... assets. Yes, her breasts are large and perfectly shaped—surely she was desired by many men when she was alive. Wouldn’t it be something to see her in her true form? I hope we get a glimpse of that past life. Don’t give me that look—I’m merely a man, appreciating beauty, even when it’s wrapped in darkness and horror.

Wait. Is she... looking at me? It’s unsettling, as if she can see me. But how could she? She’s just a character in a story, unaware of our existence. Yet she’s moving with purpose, her gaze locked on us.

*The Yokai lunges, her nails slicing through the air.*

*The camera shatters, exploding into sparks and smoke.*

How? How did she do that? These cameras—only we, the narrators, can see them. They aren’t visible to characters. So how is she aware of us? How does she know someone is watching, narrating her every move? It’s as if the page itself is staring back.

I need to speak with the original narrator—immediately.