The sun was shining its sunny, resplendent self, the rays branching off in different areas of the city, such as that in front of one Tristan Peters.

Trudging along the autumn-leafed streets, they caught sight of two fellow schoolmates he saw around campus once in a while.

"Hey, isn't that Tristan? Why don't we say hi? One of the schoolmates said.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, he seems like the type to bring in trouble, best if we just avoid him." The other retorted.

Tristan Peters side-glanced and rolled his eyes at the pair.

"Charlatans" He muttered under his breath.

 Tristan Tussle, Bitch-face Tristan, that scruffy-looking guy with a beauty mark near his left eye, are some of the things that pop up when one thinks up his name.

He was a particularly troublesome-seeming character... appearing morose, eye-bagged, belligerent, at least most of the people seemed to form this impression when taking one glance at the lad.

But in truth, he was quite taciturn and one to keep to himself. He never bothered much with social interaction. He knew of his less than stellar reputation, but he didn't care much for convincing others otherwise, though it did get under his skin on occasion.

He tended to avoid any sort of altercation by passively agreeing to whatever was said to him and going along his merry way. Some might interpret this as receptiveness on his part, but that couldn't be farther from the truth.

But on this blessed (or tedious and cursed if Tristan were to narrate) day, Tristan skipped along to the public library, unaware of the sudden twist of fate he was about to come across.

The sidewalk bore minute cracks along its cemented structure, leaves leaving slight peeks at the dark, uneven lines marking a sort of path. Tristan attempted to skip along the peeks of cracks that lined up to the road leading to the library.

He entered the hollow doors of the library, sauntering into the duskily lit hall. He passed by the librarian, being greeted with a chipper 'Welcome to the library!'

He smiled slightly, and wandered around for a few moments, before heading to a random section of the library to play book roulette.

The library in the town was a vast but rather aged one, having been standing and operational for about a century or so. Many renovations have been made to accommodate the changing eras, but the airy subtle feeling it exuded was always a constant. It felt... coy and clandestine, only offering a peek into the esoteric affairs that one may chance upon sporadically.

Whenever he visited the library, he took it upon himself to implement a sort of  to liven up the normally dull act of reading through a bunch of dusty books from the last century, along with some more recent additions to the library's compendium.

He'd close his eyes, walk through the section, and head to the bookcases, reach for a book, pick it out, read it, then repeat 4 more times.

Two of the books were science fiction, and they seemed rather... fantastical in length. Tristan critiqued that the books prided themselves on scientific accuracy, despite belying a plethora of farces. Well, it's fiction, what can you do?

Two of the other books were children's picture books. He mindlessly fixated on illustrations of French pastries and infamous serial killers, admittedly unorthodox choices for children's picture books.

"I wish they had more children's content on serial killers, that would've been quite a time killer for kiddie me, but no, they'd say it would be too jarring for children, fucking pansies."

Tristan mused at the rather morbid thought. He had an extensive fascination with true crime and serial killers. He stumbled upon a true-crime documentary on television one day and he was hooked.

Sometimes, he pondered on the inner workings of serial killers and how they felt about their victims. Very polarized topic, he felt.

On his fifth turn of book roulette, he waddled further listlessly into the back row of the bookshelves. Unbeknownst to him, an ominous archaic-looking book with engravings on the hard, wooden and probably animal skin donning cover fell onto the floor, a hard thud reverberating around the vicinity.

As he walked with his eyes closed, his feet touched upon the spine of this very book.

"Huh? What did my foot just touch...?” He opened his eyes, and his gaze met the floor. There in front of him, was a rather antiquated-looking book... it looked out of place in that particular section of the library.

"Huh? What's this old thing... looks musty as fuck" He snickered flippantly.

Meanwhile, a tanned being of tall stature sat in a dimensional void, only being accompanied by thoughts that ate at him. Suddenly, a bellowing baritone voice invaded his pointy extremities, reiterating Tristan's comment.

"Why, the nerve of that runt! He squinted at nothing, in particular, silently cursing whoever said such a dastardly thing in his presence.

"Wait just a fucking second... this could be my ticket outta here! I could finally live the life of being someone's servant, oh, how I wished they'd just drag me out, beat me to an inch of my life, chain me up, and leave me to rot, except I'm immortal, so I wouldn't really"

This tan being had a habit of rambling on by himself, out loud and in mind, never in front of others, just by himself.

He rejoiced at the possibility of exoneration from his incarceration into the abyss.

"I can pardon you from that one grievance, you impudent lad. Maybe I should help you out a little." He rambled in glee.

...

"This book seems interesting... I wonder what's inside of it." Tristan thought, as he opened and turned to the first page of the book.

"Huh-" his eyes were met with peculiar-looking symbols and runes that filled the page.

And suddenly, a strange feeling washed over him. It was as if time stopped and space clambered over to the side, awaiting a foreign force that seemed to have overcome Tristan.

As if struck by a sudden clarity, Tristan could suddenly tell how to speak out the writings on the weathered page.

"This is weird... I don't know what language this is, but I feel compelled to read it out... this never ends well in any  type of horror content of this sort... maybe I should put this book down where I found it."

He contemplated, wondering whether sating his curiosity was worth the risk of possible consequences.

"You know what? Screw it! What's the worst that can happen, being damned to the deepest corners of the underworld? That sounds like paradise for a masochist such as me!"

Sometimes, Tristan had his bouts of melodrama, and he was also quite the impetuous individual.

He read out the page, enunciating each syllable in tow.

Aperu-diseta-mistosdastan-muserast-atu