ifbuttercuphadADHD

It's been years since I have taken anything remotely serious since my devotion to Daemon (HOD fans where you at) and my favorite podcast TMA. Now that I have disturbing and disgusting amount of time in my hand I shall put it use. Hence my decision to revamp, reorganize and relive this blog. I'll be writing here- 1. Reviews about certain book/movies or something entirely irrelavent but not necessarily insignificant for a weirdo like me; 2. Rants about my soupy noodles not having enough chilies or sichuan peppers along with other inconsequential things about my life; 3. Questionable yet interesting paranormal experiences either personal or heard from the forever bunch of elderly "gossipers"; 4. Arts that I created and hope that someone here would appreciate

After carefully curating and abolishing few of my last brain cells, I have created the following timetable for anyone and everyone who'd like a personal sneak peak in my head and gather the impeccable Potat-lore:

Sunday : Spoopy Sunday (paranormal stories, experiences)

Tuesday : Tuesday Tattle-Tribunal (Book or anything on screen review/rate)

Friday (Once a month) : Fry-day Feral Files (Unforgiving, Unhinged, unsolicited rants )

Saturday (Once a month) : Scribbling Saturday (a post about my Art/a food/a place)

Today, I present you a semi-fiery and recent tirade, when I haven’t even finished the book – “The Maiden” by Alex Michaelides. I bought his debut book “The Silent Patient” in 2021; the title caught my eye and I was trying to come out of my filthy reader’s block, so when a quick search and the first google review of the book said “Best psychological thriller novel” I grabbed and bought the book in an instant. Then maybe I finished reading the first part of the book and tucked the book under my lecture notes and thesis drafts…and I just forgot about it. In 2022, I saw a reel about the book on Instagram and suddenly felt the urge to finish the book. I’m glad that I did. Long story short, after the twist is revealed the rest of the plot felt kind of…. rushed and bland. I didn’t hate the ending but mundane endings to psychological thriller novels feels off to me as a reader.

Now, coming to “The Maiden”; from my experience of the first book and the prologue of this one, I became conscious of the protagonist, Mariana and her thought process. I have completed two of five parts and I believe I have been introduced to most of the characters (I hope so, any more characters and my brain will fcking explode while keeping up with the characters – not the plot lmao). “The Maiden” -s story starts with Mariana, amidst her own struggles to figure out her own thoughts, finds herself solving the murder case of three students, one of which is a close friend of her niece, Zoe. All three student belonged to a special group, dare I say, a mini cult-like secret society type shii- selected and managed by Edward Fosca, An American, charismatic professor of Greek Tragedy – hence the name of that group and the book “The Maiden”.

The story starts with our grieving protagonist – Mariana, who still even after a year or so after her first love and husband – Sebastians death, finds herself unable to move on, to cope with her day-to-day life and responsibilities. Mariana is a trained psychotherapist with specialization in group-therapy and we get to know about a few of the group members. In that group we see Henry, a very disturbed individual with a sad and dark history for this reason Mariana feels a certain soft spot for him and Henry being deprived of care and love for such a long time, he mixes her way of comforting him and trying to guide him in a good place with his obsessive kind of love; where he intentionally hurts himself just so Mariana feels sorry for him and takes care of him (You think Henry makes you angry? Wait till you get to know about Sebastian and Edward Fosca; believe me when I tell you that if I was in Mariana’s place? I’d start throwing fists from the very start). I don’t know if Henry appears again in the other parts but I hope he does, in a revitalization kinda way.

While her group-therapy session ends, she has a heated alteration with Henry where it is revealed Henry’s complex feelings about Mariana is not normal – it’s on a obsessive, toxic, stalker level. But this confrontation between them and Henry's attemps to manipulate Mariana gets cut off when Zoe calls her (M) telling about a news cover on a murder in Cambridge which Zoe says the body might be of her best friend, Tara (Yes, it is. And the body and how the murder happened? brutal).

Couple of little side notes that I should've included before but forgot to add (I mean what a rattling tattle, grammer-allergic, vocab-light human buffer like me gonna do? I have to much to say, type but my english has high ping) : 1. Mariana and Sebastian, lovers then married, both were students at Cambridge University; different majors though. Zoe is in Year 2 I guess at the same university. 2. Zoe's both parents (Zoe's mom is Mariana's sister) died in a car accident when she was just six years old. After this, Zoe grew up under Mariana and Sebastians care. 3. Zoe's love for her uncle Sebastian is on another level.

From this phone call, to Mariana taking a decision to go to Zoe and stay with her, to get tangled with the ongoing murder case and taking the initiaive to discover the truth of Tara's murder - is very fast... Like all of these happen in a couple of chapters. We get to see a character named Frederick or Fred, who appears for a very short moments. He's kind of a clumsy "golden retriver" type of guy, which makes him more suspicious (?)

Coming to Edward Fosca, who's believed to be the murderer of Tara by Zoe. Zoe points out somethings that are not yet proven or are very vague that makes Mariana very conscious of him too. Edward Fosca is silver-tongued, charismatic, sly fox type of person. His exclusive society or inner circle or should I say a carefully curated set of special "female" students seemed to me as insular and dogmatic... I suppose I can say that. His and the female students behaiviour is also making me, as a reader think that they might be somewhat if not entirely connected to the murder. God bless Mariana so she can get a grip on herself and solve a muder case and we get a triumphant version of herself.

BUT IT'S TOO OBVIOUS, TOO SIMPLE TO COME TO THAT CONCLUSION WHEN I HAVE THREE MORE PARTS TO FINISH.

I mean, woudn't be a psychological thriller if the murderer, the motive doesnt change for AT LEAST two times.

But till now everything impiles Edwards is the killer although the murder motive's still not clear.

Comments on the parts I've read:

Whatever I experinced, I tried my hardest to find a reason to exlpain anything that's more logical, but to my utmost failure - I can't and nobody I shared these could either. Maybe you can - so let me know what you think about it. I'd suggest you'll take my stories or experiences as "A poorly written ghost story" and maybe it'll be more fun! On today's blog, I'll be sharing my first and last Phantasmagoria, a night when I had to fight with my inability to move to save my real self - where the entire thing felt unreal. I still remember every second of that horrendous night as if it happened last night. Now, make yourself cozy with a warm cup, a beautiful music and a old yet fresh-tasting story.

This was after the whole covid pandemic was close to coming to an end. Offices slowly started their offline scheduels, kids started going to playgrounds and roads began to become more vibrant with people. My uni decided to hold out on online classes a little longer as massive changes were happening in my faculty - old proffesors were pursuing their PhDs, some were getting fired and new curriculum was getting put into work for, and I quote, "A better future for all of the students". Even now that I think about these, I'm still rolling my eyes to oblivion.

I always had trouble with sleeping and being a final year student with assignments, project works and thesis right up to my neck made sleeping worser than it ever was. Then suddenly, the being upstairs had a little bit mercy to bless me with and sent a doctor that gave me medications to help me sleep that didn't make me feel like a fucking sloth the entire day. So, after years of torturous sleepless nights I finally had fair share of sleep, fresher than I'd ever been. Forgive me for such long intro, but I must do this for you to understand my problem with sleep was solved and I fully enjoyed my nap time.

So, when I say, no external factors triggered my sleep paralysis, I truly mean it. That night the dinner was very good, all of my works were done for that day; after scrolling through my social feeds for a bit, sending memes to my friends and texting with them for a bit, I fell asleep.

My eyes snapped open, my heart beating so loud that I can hear it in my ear. Gasping for air and slowly starting to calm down, my eyes adjusted to the darkness. The room wasn't completely dark, lights from a street lamp near the road came through the curtains. It took me that exact moment to realize that I wasn't in my bed, in fact, I can't seem to move myself. It felt like somebody glued my entire body to the wall beside my bed. But I could move my head and I can hear myself. Wait, I can hear talking to myself while being glued to the wall to calm down but I can also hear a second set of breathing like.. someone was in a very deep sleep. The sound of light snores and breathing felt like it was very close, so close that it feels like as if it's me. There..there it was; a second set of slow heartbeats, as if they were mine. Slowly I looked over the place on my bed where I fell asleep - somebody was sleeping there, in the exact place I was, that somebody.... was me. That second set of calm breathing, second set of heartbeat was... mine. I wasn't unaware of sleep paralysis and it's facts. But was sleep paralysis supposed to feel like this? so much surreal that I can physically feel both of my body at the same time.

I was so deep in thought that I didn't realize that there was something, standing, other side of the bed directly opposite of the wall I was stuck to. Then it moved, closer; closer to my sleeping self.

A sudden dread, an awful awareness of something made me snap out of my thoughts. That's when I see... it.

In the small fragments of lights from outside, I saw a figure, not exactly a body, something that seemed like when you see a figure but through a dark veil. I can point out its' arms, torso but at the same time - I can't. Then it moved again, closer... closer to my sleeping body. I was sleeping so peacefully, unaware of this THING moving inch by inch towards me. Now that I'm typing this out, watching myself peacefully sleep while being stuck to the wall and growing more and more anxious to watch some dark veil-y thing come close to me - the whole thing is so... I.. I have no words.

Then I felt like the THING look at me, the me stuck to the wall and everything got quite. Till that moment, the sounds from cars on road, sound of my ceiling fan, sound of curtains moving - I was able to hear everything. But when I locked my eyes with that THING, it became so silent that only the set of my breath and heartbeat were the only sounds I could hear. It shifted it's eyes from me to sleeping me, slowly streatching its' arm... as if it wants to touch me or grab me.

I didn't know why I felt like I should do anything and everything in my ability to wake the other "Me". I didn't know how but I should try... No, I must.

I started screaming my own name, as loud as I could. That things' hand was getting closer and closer, I could see its' hand through the dimmest of light that was coming through the curtains. I screamed louder and louder, tears streamed down and I tried to force my arms or legs or anything just to free myself of this stucked to the wall state; anything to get closer to the other me, wake her up or just get into my body I guess.

I screamed, shouted, cursed myself to just wake up. I could feel my heart beating so fast that it felt like it would just burst out of my throat.

And then, I jerked awake, sitting upright on my bed, looking at the direction that dark veiled thing was standing. Heart hammering in my chest, gasping for air.

It took me a few minutes to compose myself. Telling myself that "that was one hell of a nightmare", but I felt a foreign ache in my throat as if I had been screaming or speaking loudly. To wipe away the sweats, I touched my face but... why sweats don't form near eyes. It was then it hit me that when I woke up, I heard my name, how it'd sound at the end of a scream, in my own voice.

I checked my phone, 4:00 AM; I didn't sleep for the rest of the night, replaying whatever happened over and over again in my head.

In the morning, I asked my mom if she heard me screaming or any noise from me; she is a light sleeper, slightest creak made her jump awake. But to my surprise she said "No". We also have a home security cam with motion and noise alert recording along with a nightvision in our living space that basically cover the main entrance and every door in our house - so I checked them.

NOTHING. Not a single recording file. I checked if there's any footage during the 3 AM to 4AM time frame - no, none.

Then I saw a recording - timed 04:10 AM. Not the timeframe I was looking but I clicked anyways. At first glanced, you'd notice nothing. A regular video focusing it's lens on my door, door that's slightly ajar. Then the camera slowly pans from my door to main entrance. Weird, I always shut my door, I don't lock it in case my mom wants to come in but... never open. I glanced the title of the alert - "Detected Noise"

I downloaded the file, tweeked a little, enhanced the audio a bit. At the very end of the video, you can hear, a little whisper :

"Soon"

*exhausted sigh* that was a long one, huh? apologies. I'll try my best next time to either shorten the stories or divide into parts for better reading experience. Has anyone else experienced something so bizzare? Drop your expeiences or stories in "tobey or not tobey" section.

Rate this infinite sigh inducing, badly typed, out of the body experience (literally) in the comments.