// Sample excerpts from "Venom as My Silhouette" by Narbeh Der-Gevorkian. // Each chapter shows a small teaser — the opening of the day plus one beat — // before the final page invites the reader to continue the book on Amazon. const PLACEHOLDER_NOTICE = "Sample excerpt from the manuscript. Continue the full story on Amazon."; // TODO: replace with the live Amazon listing once the book goes on sale. const AMAZON_URL = "https://www.amazon.com/s?k=Venom+as+My+Silhouette+Narbeh+Der-Gevorkian"; const DAYS = [ { id: 'mon', label: 'Monday', part: 'Routine and Fracture', open: true }, { id: 'tue', label: 'Tuesday', part: 'Masks and Machines', open: true }, { id: 'wed', label: 'Wednesday', part: 'Descent', open: true }, { id: 'thu', label: 'Thursday', part: 'The Supernatural Spiral',open: true }, { id: 'fri', label: 'Friday', part: 'Collapse', open: true }, { id: 'sat', label: 'Saturday', part: 'Revelation', open: true }, { id: 'sun', label: 'Sunday', part: 'Renewal', open: true }, ]; // Final "buy the book" page appended to every chapter. The reader can click // the call-to-action to jump to Amazon. const CTA_PAGE = ['__cta__']; const CHAPTERS = { mon: { day: 'Monday', part: 'Routine and Fracture', title: 'The Normal Life of Tom Buxom — I', subtitle: 'In which the morning is laid out the night before, and nothing is allowed to be wrong.', pages: [ [ "6:00 AM. The alarm screamed—shrill and insistent, like a siren. Tom's hand shot out from beneath the sheets and slammed the snooze button with surgical precision, a reaction honed by routine and necessity.", "He made the bed with eerie care. Each crease smoothed, each fold identical. Two pillows stacked with military symmetry. \"Perfect,\" he whispered. Only then did his breathing settle.", "By 6:45, Tom stood in the kitchen, a sleek machine dressed in a tailored armor suit. Eggs cracked only on the designated edge of the pan. If the crack was wrong, the egg was ruined—discarded without hesitation. The trash beneath his sink was a graveyard of imperfect shells.", ], [ "Today's client: Ricky Smiths. Handsome. Charming. Empty behind the eyes. Tom had seen that emptiness before—in crime scenes, in interrogations, in dreams that woke him gasping.", "Ricky's girlfriend, Jill Lawson, had been murdered in a manner the papers refused to print in full. What they didn't say screamed louder: the violence had been ritualistic, obscene.", "\"Who could do something like that?\" Tom had once asked. The mirror never answered.", ], CTA_PAGE, ], image: 'assets/scene-mon.png', artifacts: [ { id: 'identity', kind: 'torn page', label: 'Identity', hint: 'a page torn from somewhere else' }, { id: 'tick', kind: 'photograph', label: 'Tick Tock', hint: 'pinned to the wall behind the desk' }, ], }, tue: { day: 'Tuesday', part: 'Masks and Machines', title: 'The Normal Life of Tom Buxom — II', subtitle: 'In which a reflection refuses to keep time, and a girlfriend refuses to look away.', pages: [ [ "He stood before the mirror, performing bicep curls. For a moment, his reflection did not move in perfect unison. It hesitated. Twitched. Smiled before he did. He wasn't sure.", "Cold sweat broke across his back. Tom looked away, pulse climbing. Whatever that was—it knew the routine.", ], [ "Amber Lux—thirty-three, kind, loving, achingly normal. She slid into the car, her red hair catching the dim light like flame. Her eyes, too blue, held something that unnerved him in silence—a depth, a gaze that made him feel seen. And being seen, for Tom, was dangerous.", "Her voice calmed him, soothed frayed edges. She laughed easily, her joy unforced. But as she laughed, he stared, and a thought crept in, poisonous: What would her voice sound like if it begged?", "He blinked. Smiled. Pushed the thought away like a spider crawling across his brain.", ], CTA_PAGE, ], image: 'assets/scene-tue.png', artifacts: [ { id: 'illusion', kind: 'torn page', label: 'Illusion', hint: 'pulled from a stranger\'s feed' }, ], }, wed: { day: 'Wednesday', part: 'Descent', title: 'The Normal Life of Tom Buxom — III', subtitle: 'In which the suburbs uncoil something old, and the door of childhood opens again.', pages: [ [ "As he drove through the hollow suburbs of childhood, something old uncoiled inside him. A memory, sharp and acidic, flickered across his mind. His grip tightened on the wheel. Screaming. A dark hallway. Small hands gripping sheets too tightly. The smell of something burnt. Something wet.", "The car lurched. Tires screeched. A red light. He didn't remember the memory—only that it was ingrained in him.", ], [ "The door creaked open. Margaret stood there—eerily unchanged. Black hair falling to her waist like a funeral veil. Hazel eyes, sharp, surgical. Small in stature, but never in presence. That had always made her dangerous.", "\"Hello, Thomas,\" she said, voice honey-laced with iron. To Tom, she was less mother than architect—building him into a vessel for her ambitions, molding him with cold hands, never allowing deviation.", "Jim entered like a shadow given form—broad, imposing, mechanical. His eyes didn't quite meet Tom's. They hovered somewhere beside him, as if Jim saw something near his son's shoulder that Tom couldn't.", ], CTA_PAGE, ], image: 'assets/scene-wed.png', artifacts: [ { id: 'serendipity', kind: 'torn page', label: 'Serendipity', hint: 'a note slipped under the door' }, ], }, thu: { day: 'Thursday', part: 'The Supernatural Spiral', title: 'The Normal Life of Tom Buxom — IV', subtitle: 'In which a tape never arrives, a phone call saves him, and a floorboard creaks at ten.', pages: [ [ "The alarm shrieked at 6:00 AM. Tom didn't move. He lay there, eyes fixed on the ceiling, thoughts fogged, the weight of the day pressing on his chest. Something felt off—dense, unspoken.", "By 1:00 PM, Tom sat in his office, eyes locked on the abstract painting above his desk—a twisted storm of reds and blacks, warped and brooding. Every time he glanced away, it seemed to move, just slightly. Watching.", ], [ "At 10:00 PM sharp, he crawled into bed. The house was dead silent. Not even wind. He closed his eyes. Tried to drift. Tried to escape.", "He opened his eyes. Darkness. Stillness. A floorboard creaked. From the hallway. His body locked. Breath caught. Something wasn't right.", ], CTA_PAGE, ], image: 'assets/scene-thu.png', artifacts: [ { id: 'vampire', kind: 'photograph', label: 'Vampire', hint: 'developed in a darkroom that wasn\'t there yesterday' }, ], }, fri: { day: 'Friday', part: 'Collapse', title: 'The Normal Life of Tom Buxom — V', subtitle: 'In which a confession crackles through the receiver, and a pair of binoculars sees too much.', pages: [ [ "\"It's Ricky,\" the voice crackled, heavy with tension. Tom froze. Grip tightened. \"Where the fuck have you been? You said you had the tape.\"", "\"There's a problem,\" Ricky replied, shaky. Silence. Then: \"There never was a tape, Tom.\"", "A pause. \"I… I killed her, Tom.\" It landed like a punch. Air vanished.", ], [ "He parked thirty feet down the road, far enough to disappear. Watched through binoculars. The house was quiet. Then movement. Ricky.", "An hour passed. Then a yelp. A plea. Tom's blood turned to ice. He zeroed in. And then… he saw it. Ricky's charm evaporated. His face twisted, feral. The first stab was clumsy, but the second was deliberate. The third was rage.", ], CTA_PAGE, ], image: 'assets/scene-fri.png', artifacts: [ { id: 'fallacy', kind: 'torn page', label: 'Fallacy', hint: 'crumpled at the bottom of the case file' }, ], }, sat: { day: 'Saturday', part: 'Revelation', title: 'The Normal Life of Tom Buxom — VI', subtitle: 'In which Saturdays are different, and a black bag is brought up from the basement.', pages: [ [ "Tom's eyes opened slowly to soft morning light. 9:00 AM. For once, no snooze button. Saturdays were different—his time to breathe, to forget the constraints of the workweek, and feel like himself. On Saturdays, Tom felt alive, his real self rising from the depths.", "By noon, showered, shirt and tie on, he headed for the basement. The large black bag waited—everything he needed.", ], [ "The knife gleamed in his hand—15 inches long, 4 inches wide, surgical steel honed to perfection. He had chosen it deliberately. Routine demanded precision, and precision demanded the right tool.", "When the knife finally drove down, it was clean, controlled. No frenzy, no chaos. Tom cut with the same discipline he folded shirts, the same symmetry he demanded of his cupboards. Each strike was measured, each incision purposeful. This wasn't rage. This was a ritual.", ], CTA_PAGE, ], image: 'assets/scene-sat.png', artifacts: [ { id: 'lucifer', kind: 'photograph', label: 'Lucifer\'s Playground', hint: 'pulled from beneath a folded shirt' }, ], }, sun: { day: 'Sunday', part: 'Renewal', title: 'The Normal Life of Tom Buxom — VII', subtitle: 'In which the table is already set, and the family that was always there finally sits down.', pages: [ [ "A plate of scrambled eggs sat on the table. Perfectly cooked—soft, light, not too runny, not too dry. He blinked, unsure if he was imagining it. Who had made them? He hadn't asked for breakfast, yet there it was, waiting.", "Through the patio doors, his parents waved. Jim's grin was easy, Margaret's gaze steady. Tom's heart skipped. This was different. They weren't supposed to be here—not like this.", ], [ "Margaret stepped inside, her voice calm but firm. \"You've carried this alone long enough. Now you know—we've always been here. Watching. Waiting. Protecting.\"", "Jim placed a hand on Tom's shoulder, heavy but reassuring. \"You've shed the mask, son. No more pretending. You are what you are. And now, you're not alone.\"", "For the first time, Tom understood: the spiral wasn't ending. It was opening. What awaited next was not escape, but continuation. A new chapter. A new hunt. A new truth. And Tom was ready.", ], CTA_PAGE, ], image: 'assets/scene-sun.png', artifacts: [ { id: 'hope', kind: 'torn page', label: 'Hope', hint: 'tucked beneath the breakfast plate' }, ], }, }; // Back-compat alias (older code referenced MONDAY_CHAPTER directly). const MONDAY_CHAPTER = CHAPTERS.mon; const POEMS = { identity: { id: 'identity', title: 'Identity', register: 'horror', part: 'Routine and Fracture', image: 'assets/poem-identity.png', visualCue: 'Roadside corpse in black gown — blue eye open — mist — dim sun low on the horizon', lines: [ "The air was still, heavy with silence.", "Hours passed without consent,", "each moment slipping away as if stolen.", "", "A corpse lay beside the road.", "Torn apart, as if a beast had waited", "for the right moment to strike.", "", "One blue eye remained open,", "sparkling faintly, caught between", "this world and the next.", "", "Two puncture wounds marked her neck,", "symmetrical, precise.", "Something had gone wrong.", ], }, tick: { id: 'tick', title: 'Tick Tock', register: 'horror', part: 'Routine and Fracture', image: 'assets/poem-tick.png?v=2', visualCue: 'Twelve bodies arranged as clock hours — dank brick basement — web-like restraints', lines: [ "The web had claimed a dozen bodies,", "each sinner displayed like a grotesque trophy.", "", "Each body formed an hour on a clock—twelve in total.", "The more monstrous the crime,", "the closer to the center they hung.", "", "Each hour ticked louder,", "each victim a reminder.", "The pendulum swung closer to midnight,", "hunger pulsing in rhythm with its beat.", "", "Time measured not by minutes, but by sins.", ], }, illusion: { id: 'illusion', title: 'Illusion', register: 'lyric', part: 'Masks and Machines', image: 'assets/poem-illusion.png', visualCue: 'A figure half-dissolved into a glowing screen — pixels eating skin', lines: [ "We lived in a world run by wires and signals,", "a kingdom of screens.", "Machines didn't just serve—they ruled.", "", "Moments captured, filtered, posted—not lived.", "Love digitized, pixel by pixel,", "until it vanished with every swipe.", "", "\"Likes\" became currency.", "Empty coins in a hollow jar.", ], }, serendipity: { id: 'serendipity', title: 'Serendipity', register: 'lyric', part: 'Descent', image: 'assets/poem-serendipity.png', visualCue: 'A figure standing at the edge of a canyon at dusk, hourglass tipped sideways', lines: [ "Is it fate that she's fading from the mind,", "or something deeper—", "that she lingers in the heart?", "", "She echoes like a whisper through an empty canyon,", "presence resounding even when silence insists.", "", "Life blends joy and grief like rivers merging,", "cutting new paths through who we are.", "", "Time doesn't wait.", "It moves one way—a train on fixed tracks,", "miniature when you zoom out,", "massive when you're inside.", "", "Because love always brings pain.", "The storm always follows the rainbow.", "", "But the fire burning inside cannot be betrayed.", "We all bleed the same.", "Stars scattered across a dark sky,", "each glowing in a corner,", "trying to light the way.", ], }, vampire: { id: 'vampire', title: 'Vampire', register: 'lyric', part: 'The Supernatural Spiral', image: 'assets/poem-vampire.png', visualCue: 'A masked figure dissolving into lightning — strings cut, mask falling away', lines: [ "You drift, unnoticed,", "like a shadow slipping through twilight.", "", "Beneath shallow eyes,", "windows reflecting only surface glimmers,", "blind to your depths.", "", "Reality falters.", "A mirror cracks under its reflection.", "Scripted gestures awaken—", "a dance of convention,", "puppets pulled by strings.", "", "But what of the lightning flash", "that ignites the skies of your soul?", "", "Release your vampire.", "Not for blood, but for truth and authenticity.", "Unshackled from masks,", "beyond quotas, hollow trophies.", "", "Within your heart lies power—", "a star burning brighter than illusions.", ], }, fallacy: { id: 'fallacy', title: 'Fallacy', register: 'lyric', part: 'Collapse', image: 'assets/poem-fallacy.png', visualCue: 'A house of cards trembling on a polished glass table — gilded coins scattered', lines: [ "Their diluted world—", "a shimmering mirage promising salvation,", "delivering sand.", "", "A lie repeated until it hardened into reality.", "A house of cards trembling beneath its own weight.", "", "They were convinced the game had to be played.", "Success became a cage,", "gilded in fool's gold.", "", "If you can't beat them, join them.", "So, they did. They folded. They sold out.", "", "No better than lambs to slaughter—", "worse, because they chose it.", "", "Magical paper kept them moving,", "puppets in a wind-up box,", "spinning to the same exhausted tune.", "", "They fit the mold. Cool. Young. Marketable.", "But nonsense spills from their mouths—", "static from a broken signal.", ], }, lucifer: { id: 'lucifer', title: "Lucifer's Playground", register: 'horror', part: 'Revelation', image: 'assets/poem-lucifer.png', visualCue: 'A predator first-person view of a woman in stilettos, neon corridor, knife held low', lines: [ "No one will hear you, darling.", "Not even the man who paid you a ridiculous amount of wealth.", "", "Jill was my first thought.", "Jade was my last.", "Who will be the one I take home tonight?", "", "I see her walking—stilettos in sight.", "Her glare snared mine;", "a shimmer flickered there,", "and within the silence I whispered—", "you, too, shall die.", "", "\"Will you be the one taking me home tonight?\"", "I nod my head and bat my eyes.", "But little does she know that she's in for a fright.", "", "A sacrifice to the Gods.", "Or was this my destiny, handed to me against all odds?", "", "I laid her down and gazed into her eyes—", "lifeless, cold, not willing to put up much of a fight.", "", "Before she could speak or draw a final sigh,", "my knife entered her sternum,", "killing her on the spot.", "", "Another one gone, or should I say saved.", ], }, hope: { id: 'hope', title: 'Hope', register: 'lyric', part: 'Renewal', image: 'assets/poem-hope.png', visualCue: 'Light through a kitchen window — a plate of eggs, still warm', lines: [ "If you dig into my mind,", "you'll see the layers of rhyme", "that make us the same kind.", "", "My message isn't to demoralize,", "but to weaponize the conscious mind—", "to glorify unity,", "to build a stronger community.", ], }, }; Object.assign(window, { PLACEHOLDER_NOTICE, AMAZON_URL, DAYS, CHAPTERS, MONDAY_CHAPTER, POEMS });