My Sabbatical with a Succubus | ~ a dark comedy horror by [Degusaurusrex & A.Storey]

[A.Storey]

Tuesday, July 22nd, 2025 Last night, for the first time since it happened, I tried to make sense of things... I am still not certain what I witnessed a few nights ago. I can't even be sure about what I saw – just what do I think I saw? Was it my imagination, were my eyes playing tricks on me? I was tired – it had been a long day – a long week... a long month to be fair, and the perpetual warmth had not been helping at all. I don't like it when I can't think straight. But contrary to my uneasy feelings and my wishes... the evidence was all there before me. All the clues stacked neatly in one spot, as gruesome as it was... I cannot deny what was found. The only thing lacking is an explanation for why and what led up to me discovering that horribly mutilated body left there on the park bench. The thought and memory still disgust me – I thought maybe writing about it might help? What the fuck is happening to this city? Why is all this happening? What is wrong with everyone? Bunch of complete fucktards. Perhaps I may never answer these questions to my satisfaction, but such crimes cannot fully go unanswered and unpunished by the law – if only the law had any actual real bite and teeth; if only the system wasn't built and maintained by the same idiots it was designed to protect and allegedly serve. I had little choice though; I had to call it in and report the incident to the police. It'll take them a month or two to get their act together... but I did my part – for what little good it would do... but I still did it. I am going all over the place; it's been a long couple of days, and I have not been sleeping well at all. This morning, I woke up late again – thankfully the university granted me a few days of compassionate leave – how rare indeed. Bunch of fucktards. Hours later, today, it is now in the early evening - I am attempting to make sense of it all – writing things down as I can best recollect in the hopes I process this and digest the facts. I am worried I might have left out a detail or two in my report to the police. The shock might have been more overwhelming than I realize... Ironically, I teach all of this in my classes – but it just never is quite the same when you're living through the situation is it? I should make a mental note to alter my lecture notes on this... I'll have to ponder on whether to include this anecdotal story for the students. Not that they'll care or notice – they have far too many pressing matters to worry about. And soon, once they catch wind of this in the local news... they'll have one more thing to worry about. And I can't really blame them for it either... I'm worried too. To the best of my ability, this is what I can remember from that night in the park... SW

 

[A.Storey]

The Basics

Name: Sebastian Wells

Identity: Male

Age: 32

Physical Description

Height: 6'1 / 185 cm

Weight: 84 kg / 185 lbs

Hair: Brown, wavy and tousled

Eyes: Green

Facial Features: Light stubble

Body: Lean athletic build

Chapter One

The last semester of the academic year was always an odd one. On the one hand students were either focused on preparing for final exams or tying up any loose ends prior to the end of the year. And on the other, few people were switched on and paid little attention to whatever Dr. Sebastien Wells was attempting to share in his classes. At times, he wondered whether even he should be bothered at all.

When the last day of the last semester had finished and the university officially entered its summer mode of operations, Sebastien leaned back in his office chair, puffed out his cheeks and exhaled over a year's worth of pent-up frustrations and relief. Another year over, with a new one on the horizon.

Seb loved teaching – or rather, he loved to share and show off his knowledge and perspectives. He enjoyed the process of convincing someone of his views, to help them see the error of their ways, to imbue critical thinking and holistic analysis into the enquiring minds of the next generation. In his view, that's what universities and colleges were supposed to be for, not a production line for humans with paper qualifications and finely polished resumes.

The summer period offered Seb time to reflect upon his own life, on his classes and whether they were as effective as he had hoped at the beginning. He was such a contemplative individual that always had more questions he wanted answered. He had such a curious mind and inquisitive spirit – it came with the territory of being a psychology professor, the constant study and analysis of the human mind inevitably led him to wonder about his own temperament and to seek to understand what he observed in others around him, including the curious, somewhat illogical behavior of everyday people.

He'd openly ponder a wide range of questions, from 'why do people not reverse park?' to 'what motivates someone to steal, or to kill another?'. The study of the mind, of the reasons why people do the things they do, think and feel whatever it is they think, and feel had always fascinated Seb. How much of this was down to psychology, and how much of it was down to neurological chemistry? That, as Dr Wells liked to counter Shakespeare, was the question.

Once all his course teaching obligations had wrapped up, and the warmer more pleasant evening weather became more common, Sebastien would begin to walk to his campus office from home. It took him about thirty minutes – perhaps a bit more on the warmer days and if he stopped into a coffee shop en route. The walk took him through a large spacious park, that during the semester would be filled with students all relaxing and enjoying the sun.

Sometimes on the way home, he'd stop in the park in the early evening and sit on the benches to take in the fresh air of the outdoors and bask in the gentle warmth of the setting sun. That red sky was as much an indicator of the time of day, as it was a stark reminder of all the pollutants in the air. It was a stunning backdrop that foreshadowed the slow destruction of a home everyone pretended to care about.

Even in its slow death... the Earth somehow managed to find a way to bleed color across the sky. Funny, he thought... how something so deadly still looked so beautiful...

This became his routine over the last two summers: wake up early; walk to his office with a coffee picked up on the way; answer emails in the morning before taking a long leisurely lunch in the courtyard of campus. In the late afternoon, he worked on his publications or his class materials for next semester into the early evening before leaving via the park, where he spent an hour or two reading some articles or a book. Once the sky began to darken, he'd begin to make the rest of his way home.