Chapter Text
That damn book. That stupid fucking book.
It had been a few weeks ago that you had gotten a stupid journal from the sketchy thrift store at the edge of town. It looked like it demonstrated a schizophrenic man’s building paranoia, and you felt drawn to it. So you bought it. It hadn’t yielded anything interesting, it’s just invoked uneasiness that now began to build in your room. It was starting to consume you.
But it wasn’t really the book. It was just a passing depression like any other month. You’d been tied to your bed, prioritizing overwhelming boredom over hygiene and socialization. Warm but dim mood lighting was rendered useless as the bright screen of your phone lit up your room. Nothing in the real world seemed interesting. But that book.
It stared you in the face from the desk across the room. You’d looked through it, the hard spine folded down the center from years of opening. Each page turn threatened to tear the disintegrating book into a useless pile. And you’d come up empty handed. Yet you picked it back up and resumed your search of meaning in the scribbles and unlabeled diagrams. You expected a solution to your problems.
And you found it. On a page previously skipped: Summoning a Demon to Cure a Particular Loneliness.