The Sorry Tale Of Nightmare Cooth

Introduction

"Touch you?! I'm just trying to help you, lady! Jesus Christ!" At this point I was done trying to deal with this lady. I knew she was gonna throw a fit weather I was there or not, so I left to the host.

Finally I see him. A young man of the name Arnaud. Nobody really knows his last name, he tries to keep it under close wraps.

"Arnaud!" I call out to him. He seems to be talking with a couple other people.

He looks up. "Hm?"

"There are a few under cover cops here. If they find out we're underage drinking they will cause trouble." I said.

"Undercover cops? Really. At a frat party. You're insane. Who are these alleged cops?" He said, scowling at me.

I nodded to the group of biker guys.

"Rocco, Antonio, Juan, and Jose. Those are my brothers, rat." He said.

The insult stung me. "Look. I was unaware. I heard they talking about pulling people over-"

"They're ROTC in training! They don't fucking know anything and they don't care! They're bragging recruits! And if you want to come in to my frat party and start bagging on my family, we are about to have a problem." He hissed.

"I'm not starting a problem! I swear! I only had good intentions with this!"

"Looking to be what. The hero? The person who cries wolf for attention?" He asked. "I've seen you around, slime ball. You always come to party's but people avoid you, why do you come? People don't like you here." He growled.

"If I'm unwanted I'll leave. I came here for potential friends, but if that's not something I get the respect of, fine." He said.

As I begin to walk away I hear him shout. "You're nothing! Full of hate and greed!"

Yep. And that's my life trying to do anything good. It's been a while since I've actually tried doing something good for people. I guess I'm just naturally aggravating.

People don't like me. Why am I here.

My whole life I've put up with being in this stupid area trying to make friends, just so that people can spit on my face. I've been called a nark, a racist, a homophobe (despite being bi but never amounting anything to show for it) a rapist, a pedophile, a pervert, hell anything under the damn sun for literally no goddam reason.

Why do people hate me. Why is this just a thing that happens. I don't want to be here. I hate being here...

It's raining outside and the mix of smoke from blunts and water from the sky make a sort of gross moldy air I can't stand being around. So I guess this means it's time for me to go.

As I begin to walk away from the party I wonder where I should go. I don't want to go back to my dorm. It's cramped and crowded and smells like alcohol from my damn room mate. I need a place that will accept me. Somewhere where I can learn how to be better at winning people over...

I pass the library on my way through town and mentally pick it as my little resting spot. It's quiet enough and nobody's there to start a fight, cause me problems, or make general relaxation anything other than simple and calm.

I enter into the library and take a look around. Books are fun, but unlike a lot of people I know, I don't get a fucking boner off their smell. Sometimes its fun to flip though and get lost in one.

I find myself wandering into my favorite section, the small corner in the back filled with the kind of religious novels that contradict the majority of religions. Most people don't even know this little area in the back exists, but I do. Nobody comes back here but me.

One novel strikes my attention more than any other. I've seen this book before on this shelf. It's never moved or touched, sitting back here unread and lonely. It makes me smile sadly. "Works of Ancient Pagan Scripture..." I read out loud as I picked up the book. This could have all kinds of goodies in it. I didn't take it out of that section until I opened it. I definitely wasn't expecting spells in the book when I opened it. This is heavy shit. "Some of this stuff asks for sacrifices?" I mumbled gently.

A hand clasps my shoulder and I jump, closing the book.

A lady about mid 40's was looking at me with harsh eyes. Great, must be a catholic worker. I'm about to get kicked out of the second place I have visited tonight...

"What are you doing with that." She asked.

"Reading it. Its a book isn't it?" I said with a snarky tone.

"That book is filled with spells no pagan I know will even touch. You be carful with that. Books like that like to trick young men like you..." And with that, she walked back over to the section of her interest.

I'm not a skeptical guy, I really do believe in bad omens like that, and that lady gave me the creeps. I wanted to get as far away from her as I possibly could, but this book held some dark shit I wanted to know about. So I took the book with me, checked it out and went back to my dorm, the thought of an alcohol scented room not so bad compared to a creepy lady.

Back at my dorm, I notice my room mate still out at that party from before, so whatever I decide to do now, he wont be back to see the carnage of it till later.

I sat on my bed and flipped through the book.

Old traditions greeted me along with spells, craft, art, and anything under the sun that probably shouldn't be messed with. About a quarter of the way in, I stop at a page labeled 'A New Beginning.'

Interesting.

As I read through the promises of a new life with the memories of my old one rumored to continue as a reminder of this better one, I wonder if it would ever really work. Reading lower, it said its recommended to the suicidal. I can be pretty damn suicidal sometimes. As I read the rest, I realize why its recommended for the suicidal. Part of the spell casting is to kill yourself. It made me squirm, but I was so damn interested in this promise of new life. What the hell is gonna happen to me if it doesn't work anyhow? I'd be dead. Honestly with the way my life is going, I don't exactly care. Mentally in my mind I'm thinking 'wow, today is the day.' I've been contemplating the whole thing, but never actually got around to it. At least with this spell I'm being promised more than just death.

The spell didn't ask for much. A candle, a red marker, a flat area, and a quick way to kill yourself. I had all that.

Setting up the area, I noticed I might have to fandangle my way around making the nuce. Whatever. So long as it gets the job done. I put together the glyph on the ground and the candle lit in front of me. Now I have to think of why I'm committing this act of self destruction.

...Hatred. I hate the world around me. Everything I try to do backfires in rage and disappointment. I hate the world and I hate what the world has brought onto me. I want it to go away. I want something new.

With the reason in mind, I chant some things in Latin, a spell to allow energy to preserve my soul for the new life.

Finally, I grip the nuce in my hand and lay it around my throat. I take a breath and step off the chair.

Resistance met my neck and it was suddenly tight. I couldn't breathe. I wanted to cough, swallow, scream, anything. But I couldn't. all I could do was choke on the rope tight against my wind pipe. The world around me went red, then got darker and darker until...

I hear a snap from above me and I'm falling to the ground. The resistance around my throat softened and I'm coughing and shaking.

I literally just failed suicide. Why the fuck am I even trying??

For the spell. Since the nuce didn't work, I resorted to thinking of a new plan. One that wouldn't fail. I remembered the gun I had stashed away for intruders. Fuck, why the hell had I not thought of that one first?? I grabbed the gun and loaded it, again thinking of the hatred this world had brought me to. I recited the words again, and pulled the trigger to my ear.

I didn't hear the gunshot, but everyone else did.