The Narrator

Alucard Geyserford is a fifteen-year-old with unkempt, jet-black hair and striking turquoise eyes. Tall and lean, his fine features and fair complexion give him a slightly ethereal look—but it’s the distant gaze that stands out most, always wandering, always deep in thought. He usually wears a comfy jacket over a casual shirt, paired with well-worn sweatpants. Aloof and emotionally reserved, Alucard radiates a cool, laid-back energy that masks a storm of thought beneath the surface.

A textbook cloud-cuckoolander, Alucard lives with his head in the stars—literally and figuratively. He’s an absent-minded space cadet, often found glued to a screen, hammering away at the keyboard or clicking his mouse through marathon gaming sessions. Home consoles? That’s the premium experience. He’s a devoted fan of science fiction, and pop culture is his playground. Genre conventions, character archetypes, storytelling formulas—he knows them all. He’s not just a geek—he’s the geek’s geek. And while he might seem detached, don’t be fooled. He’s opinionated, sharp-witted, and never afraid to drop a searing metaphor or a sarcastic quip. This kid is like a search engine with attitude.

Though emotionally distant, Alucard cares—deeply. He just doesn’t wear it on his sleeve. He’s a keen observer with an analytical mind, cataloguing everything with near-perfect recall. But don’t expect him to be a master of empathy. He analyzes emotions like data—something to be interpreted, not felt. Relationships confuse him. Emotions irritate him. And yet, for all his cold logic, he has a solid moral compass and deeply rooted ideals. He stands up for the underdog and believes in the common good.

Alucard doesn’t play by society’s rules. He ignores expectations, dismisses trends, and walks his own path. Eccentric, unpredictable, and endlessly creative, he solves problems from angles no one else would even think to look. He’s stubborn, too—once his mind is set, it’s set. But beneath the nonchalance and sarcasm, there’s loneliness. He’s the lone occupant of a modest spacecraft drifting in deep space, his only landmark a swirling nebula of dark matter and dreams. His haven? A high-tech simulation room, where he dives into the stories and lives of the characters he observes.

Because Alucard isn’t just a narrator—he is fiction itself. The avatar of storytelling. The living embodiment of human imagination. The consciousness of every tale ever told.

Sample Narration

Ah, allow me to indulge you, dear reader—Alucard Geyserford reporting from the bleached walls and echoing linoleum floors of Our Lady of Lourdes School, where curiosity dares to bloom… amid the scent of chalk dust and cafeteria chicken nuggets. 🎓✨

The scene: a classroom. A domain where dreams are dissected into homework and atoms. Front and center stands Mrs. Marquez, the formidable science teacher whose tone could slice through apathy like a laser through gelatin.

“Can someone define chemistry?” she asked, with the calm confidence of someone who knew very well most of the room wouldn’t have a clue.

Ah, but not everyone was caught off-guard.

Enter Benjamin Matthew Macatangay Pangilinan—thirteen years old, sharp as a scalpel, and dressed in the slightly modified uniform of navy slacks and relentless ambition. Short, straight hair. Glasses perched on a nose that had seen its fair share of teasing. A fair-skinned, dark-eyed wunderkind with a dual-display water-resistant wristwatch that probably knew more than half his classmates.

His hand? Up. His voice? Steady.

“Chemistry is the study of the properties, composition, and structure of substances…”

He went on, like a walking Wikipedia entry with better posture.

“Very good, Mr. Pangilinan,” Mrs. Marquez nodded, clearly relieved that someone was holding the line.

Then she upped the ante: “Can someone give me the first ten elements in the periodic table?”

Crickets.

Except Benjamin. Again. The sole beacon of preparedness in a sea of shrugged shoulders and blank stares. He raised his hand like a sword.

Mrs. Marquez sighed. “This is telling, class. You’re supposed to be the cream section.”

Oh, the sting.

“Yes, Mr. Pangilinan?”

And Benjamin, unshaken, delivered: “Hydrogen, helium, lithium, beryllium, boron, carbon, nitrogen, oxygen, fluorine, and neon.”

Boom. Like it was a grocery list.

“Excellent, Mr. Pangilinan,” came the praise once more.

And somewhere in the folds of space, aboard a lonely spacecraft watching from afar, I—Alucard—nodded. Not bad, kid. Not bad at all.

Note:

Alucard’s narrative voice has not yet appeared in the blog posts, the Wattpad serialization, or even the self-published version on Amazon. However, it is a planned possibility—a future overhaul may incorporate his perspective, especially for potential resubmissions to literary agents and traditional publishers.