I'm Back

I won't keep you long.
K (my friend, the one with all of the people in her head) recently absorbed a new person.
Normally, this wouldn't be an issue.
But S warns me that this is, in fact, an Issue.
So much so that it deserves a capital I.
S is a full-blown Ghost. he cannot move on to either of the dimensions that have attached themselves to our own (let's call them 'heaven' and 'hell', shall we, just to simplify things) nor can his energy be recycled while in this dimension. the only thing about him that seems to have deteriorated over time are his memories.
Souls, on the other hand, deteriorate rapidly after the death of the body. Without the willpower to resist, they are either recycled (reincarnated, for you Buddhists and Hindus) or pulled towards one of the alternate dimensions to remain preserved in their current form.
Some Souls, however, decide to stick around a while longer than they should, which puts them on the fence- are they Ghosts? Or Souls? Not even they can decide. that's where K comes in.
She shines like a beacon to them. Her mind is fragile, and when she's having a breakdown or going through trauma, the usual walls that prevent Souls from inhabiting a living body fall down, allowing them in.
But the newbie- let's call him Satan, since I feel punny today- didn't need to go through all that. Nor did he go through S's filter, which usually kicks out Souls like him.
Souls like him, you ask?
Satan's a serial killer.
he died not even a week ago, when his partner in crime turned on him.
thing is, that means there's another serial killer on the loose. In my area, no less.
my life just go so much more interesting. I went from researching long dead serial killers, to fictional ones (Hello, Jeff- no, I'm not f**king tired, go put someone else to sleep), to hunting an actual one, who's still loose.
Satan's unusually strong-willed. and plus, Dementia doesn't like him. Because Serial Killers don't share territory- it's like two farmers sharing sheep. that s**t don't fly, to use inarticulate slang.
Dementia considers herself a Predator.
let me explain.
In her view, there are two types of people in the world, who are further divided into four subcategories- two for each type.
There are Predators. She's one of them. Satan is another.
Then there are Prey. I'm one of them. K is another. S would be considered one if he was still alive (he's a sweet guy- he's the Ghost who cured my fear of the paranormal). Most people who go about their daily lives fall under this category.
The two types of Predators are as follows-
1) Masks- these Predators make themselves out to be your friend. then they exploit you, take all your money, your attention, your energy, and maybe even your life. Satan is considered one of these, for reasons I'll elaborate on in my next post.
2) Knives- these Predators just don't give a s**t whether or not they get caught. they're having fun, after all. they think themselves unstoppable- and because of this, they're messy. they leave trails. and the police find them. but for that brief time that they're running loose, they are the greatest menace to society.

a psychologist would say that Masks are Sociopaths, Knives Psychopaths.
they would be correct.

Prey subcategories are as follows-
1) Blind Sheep- going about their daily lives, these Prey don't concern themselves with the thought of dying. they've got a report to fill, a wife to care for, and a daughter to send off to college, after all- there's no time to worry about somebody who may be their one-way ticket to the afterlife. Most ignorant people or those who are more pressed for time than I am fall under this category.
2) Fighters- They don't like being Prey, but they despise Predators. Dementia thinks they're cute, fighting against their fate. I think they're admirable- even though their fate was sealed the moment they displayed empathy, they do everything they can to avoid succumbing to it. Those familiar with the Slenderman Mythos and the subsequent Fear Mythos would know these people as Runners.

More tomorrow, if I can find the time to write a post.