Terror Firsthand #3: I'm moving on to Another City

In today's blog, I will share with you a fictional story about the terror I witnessed firsthand. It is for entertainment purposes only, and I wrote it from the top of my head. 

Warning: Do not try this at home. 

Terror Firsthand: I'm moving to Another City 

In Louisiana practicing Louisiana Voodoo for the first time 

After the sex party, I decided that I didn't want to be in the area anymore. I decided to go to a place that I never been before, New Orleans and Baton Rouge. I was so scared about going, that I didn't go in the past. I've always wanted to see the city. I used to look at people on YouTube and daydreamed about going there. My music is perfect for Louisiana. I figured I'd fit in. 

I got in the car with my dog, and drove towards Louisiana. I spent several days and several nights in other cities along the way, until I finally made it. After I pulled up, I started crying. I was so sad about the 2005 hurricane. It bothered me. Anyways, the first thing I did was go to a voodoo shop. I brought the whole store out. I forced the owners to let me take over, and then I renamed the store. It used to be called Botanica Elegua, and then I renamed it to Botanica Santa Muerte. 

I kicked it in the store all day and night. One night, I had a dream that the whole shop was going to burn down, but it didn't. It was just a dream. There were just too many candles burning. There were even real human skulls laying around. "Where the f*ck did these come from?" I asked myself. They were already in the store from the previous owners. It was super scary, being around the real human skulls, but that's what comes with voodoo. What's voodoo without skulls? It's supposed to be scary. If it's not scary it's not real voodoo. 

While I was in New Orleans, working at Botanica Santa Muerte, I started to have flashbacks of being on the East Coast. "I wonder how long I am going to last?" I asked myself. I wondered if I would be forced to go back or not. I hoped not. I wanted to be in Louisiana. I wanted to meet the rappers! One of the rappers I wanted to meet name was ABN OldBoy because I had a crush on him. I like the way ABN OldBoy looks. Then I was thinking about meeting a younger rapper called LeaRBleeda for a rap interview. I had a lot of questions. I also wanted to meet a producer named Fresh Dannie for a beat. I wanted to make a hit. I assumed all of those rappers and producers were not in Louisiana at the time I came, but I still wanted to conjure their old precense anyway.

I started to look online to see if I could perform, and then I also looked for a few film festivals to submit to. One of the festivals I submitted to was called El Horrorcore Music Festival, and another was called La Santa Muerte Film Festival. A few weeks after I submitted, I was accepted into both of them. My name was featured on their website, and I was thrilled with joy. I didn't tell anyone, I just kept it to myself. I was scared to be in the state, low-key, because of my past on the East Coast. However, my dreams of meeting ABN OldBoy, Fresh Dannie, and LeaRBleeda made me feel much better, about my decision to travel.

One night, I went to a concert. I didn't see the celebrity I was hoping to see, but I did run into one man. His name was Big Eisoob. I didn't expect to see him in the area either, but he actually was. He was hosting a show at one of the hottest night clubs in the city. I got to perform my song at the beginning of the night. While I was performing, the crowd was completely dead. No one was singing, bopping, their heads, or dancing. It was like they had never heard my voice a day in their life, and they couldn't catch the East Coast vibe I was giving off. They were way less accepting of me than I thought they would be. I thought they would at least be bopping their heads. They looked at me like I was an illegal alien or something. It was awful. 

After the concert, I went back to my shop, which I lived at. I didn't have a home address. I performed a ritual at midnight every night. I lit 20 candles, drew a pentacle with rock salt, and said a chant:

Santa Muerte bless my spot 

Bless mi money and bless mi pot 

Lift me up in Louisiana State 

Please don't let me be the one to cause the hate

Santa Muerte bless my soul

Bless mi cup and bless mi bowl

Lift them up and take them high 

Bless them far and bless them nearby......

I performed the ritual every night for a whole month. One day something changed. I recieved a message from a spirit. The spirit crept into my shop and said "Don't go back to the East Coast. If you do, something terrible will happen to you. You must stay in Louisiana."

Performing Nightly Ritual 

I had never heard a voice from a spirit like that before, but it was super scary. Then the voice continued:

"Write a list of all the bad things that happened to you before on parchment paper using Dragon's Blood ink and then burn the paper to ashes at midnight in your couldron. Roll a taper candle in oil and then roll in the ashes. Light the candle and meditate." 

After I did what the voice said, I began to think of all the bad things that happened to me. Stuff so bad, I can't even say out loud. I went through a lot of sickening stuff on the East Coast, and I was constantly being infested with incestuous lesbians and incestuous downlow men, and they were very abusive to me non stop. They thought they were better than me, and they bullied me every day. They were low-key jealous of me because I wasn't nasty and unnatural like they were all being. They bullied me so bad, I wanted to k*ll myself every single day because couldn't get out of the filthy infestation of inbreeding narcissistic predators.

Whenever I didn't do what they want, which was all the time, they would all gang up on me and tell lies on me. Kind of how the Carlos Alejandro Santiago and Luna Daisy Hugo nightmare played out. I was stuck in disgust 24/7, and couldn't find a way out. The gayest predators walking the earth just wouldn't stop torturing me and spying on me. 

I thought Louisiana would be a fresh start. I was burning so many candles, that I thought I was in Cali all over again, but this was no Cali. This was an entirely different area, and I needed to wake up. After my first few months of being in Louisiana, my Botanica raked in thousands and thousands of dollars. I began to feel confident with myself and I began to let go of my fear that my business would shut down. 

"This is Louisiana, not Cali, and not the East Coast. The same thing is not going to happen. These people like my store here." I said to myself. I had customers nearly every day, and I always had money for new merchandise. One day, I decided to take my money to book a celebrity feature for a song. I searched for the celebrity online and their social media profile said:

Call 555-555-5555 for booking. $30,000 per track. 

$30,000 was nothing to me. I had about $80,000 to my name and I knew that the $30,000 I used to book the celebrity feature, I would make back in no time. So I called the number and booked the feature. I met the feature at the studio a week later. The celebrity was right in front of my face. The celebrity, who's real name was Armillio Perez, was a drill rapper from NYC that was in Louisiana stopping through. He didn't live there. Anyways after recording the track, he said:

"That's what up ma. I think you have what it takes to be a real star. I've seen you putting in work. Now it's time to shoot for the stars big time. The world is going to like this track!" 

Recording with Ray Rock 

I was so happy, that I wanted to faint, but I kept my composure. I stood around a lot of celebrities on the East Coast and I never fainted or screamed. This was no different. It was just business. I was hoping the track would make it to the Billboard charts. Armillio Perez, whose rap name was Ray Rock, already had a single on the Billboard charts with another female rapper, Bacardi T. Anyways, I was able to get the song on the radio and everytime I cut the radio on, I heard the song. I even took the song to a nearby record label, to see if I could become a millionaire. 

As I walked into the record label office, the owner, Jive Mavis, was sitting at his desk, old as hell. He looked like he was nearly on his death bed. I couldn't believe he was still doing that type of work. He took my demo and handed it to his associate and said:

"Play it." 

I waited for the song with Ray Rock to come on and it played for about 1 minute before Jive Mavis said,

"Cut it off."

I stood there in awe. Did he like it?

"No, I'm sorry, I'm not interested in signing any new drill rappers. I'm looking for more of a JZA type of vibe. Sorry." Said Jive Mavis. Jive Mavis was old and cruel. 

"What do you mean you're not looking to sign any new drill artists?! The feature artist has a Billboard hit already! Don't you think I can make it too?!" I screamed, yet keeping my composure. 

"Sorry, you just don't have what it takes. You should take your demo, walk away, and be thankful you're not in prison somewhere. All you speak about is k*lling people. Mam I'm going to have to ask you to leave my office." Said Jive. I couldn't believe I was let down.

"But this song is all over the radio?! Come on!" I begged like a homeless beggar. 

"Alot of people have songs all over the radio. That doesn't mean they're going to get signed. Now please exit before I call security." Said the record label owner. I was so embarrassed. I spent all that money on a feature and here this man is telling me that I don't have what it takes. 

"What about the other rappers that rap about k*lling! They still got signed?! Why I can't get signed?! What did I do?!" I cried, with tears in my eyes. I knew that Jive Mavis's label company 'PHONEY RECORDS' wasn't going to sign me. As I was standing there still asking questions, two big, burly bodyguards wearing all black walked in and each one grabbed me by the arm and started to escort me out of the building. They literally threw me out, and then threw my demo out with me, and shut the door and locked it. What would possess me to go to Phoney Records anyway? What kind of name is that? They have a lot of artist, and gave away a lot of major million dollar deals, but apparently, they were just too Phoney for me. 

After I left the record office, I went back to my shop. 

"I might as well start my own record label. I'm going to call it No Females Allowed Records, or NFA Records for short. People could call start calling me NFA Oya. I would call it Boney Records, but it sounds too much like Phoney Records." I said to myself out loud. 

"I would call it Holy Death Records, but that sounds too much like Death Row Records." I said to myself. I hated women, so No Females Allowed was the perfect name. I'm not a jock, everything I do is original. I'm an East Coast original, and Louisiana would just have to adapt. I mean, my song was already on the radio all over Baton Rouge and New Orleans. Then the song stretched to Shreveport and Monroe. Next thing you know, the whole state was listening, and my Botanica was still booming so I was good. Or at least I thought I was. 

I went online and searched for a bunch of recording equipment. A few weeks later, my equipment arrived via FedEx. I used a room in the back of my shop and transformed it into a mini recording studio. I didn't go to college for music, as I tell people all the time. See I don't lie about my lack of experience. Lying will get me no where. Anyways, I did the best that I could with the equipment I had. By that time, the single that I had made with Ray Rock, faded away. It wasn't being played on the radio as much and it didn't make it to the charts. I eventually went to the film festivals that I was accepted to. I didn't receive and award, but my films were screened at the event. 

Ray Rock behind bars

I started to hate the song. Ray Rock never contacted me after the song was made. He didn't even want to make a music video with me for the song. I felt cheated. His feature was so fake that I didn't even have to meet him in person. He could've just sent me the verse on a recorded jail phone call, where he is now. Ray Rock was a gang member, he didn't give a f*ck about me. 

His own gang told on him and now he is behind bars. I haven't tried contacting him and I won't. I don't like phoney n*ggas. If he had of kept contact with me, he wouldn't even have been in there. I'm not a rat. I never told on anyone. Ray Rock treated me like I was less than. He thought he was a better artist than me because he was already on Billboard and he wouldn't humble himself. It's sad that he is in the situation he is in. I hope his homies write him in jail and put money on his commissary and if they don't, then he need to cut off all contact with those type of people. I'm just saying. I would've did anything to free him. I would've even posted his bail. Unfortunately, he moved on, and so should I. 

I stopped promoting the single with Ray Rock. I started to focus on myself and my new record label. I eventually recorded a new single. I got tired of paying for radio edits and decided to keep the singles explicit. Who needs the radio anyway when you can't even get signed to a major label without looking like a fool? I decided that if I wanted to promote my music under NFA Records, than I would just promote it on streaming sites, on my website, and in nightclubs and lounges and at exclusive events. I never got to meet LeaRBleeda, Fresh Dannie, or ABN OldBoy, but I was able to make a ton of new music and ride around the city. I was even able to go to the infamous Marie Laveau cemetery. 

At No Females Allowed Records alone 

After the unfortunate situation with Ray Rock, I never went to another label asking for anything. I stopped asking for deals, features, and advice. I stopped begging and started going independent. I started doing everything myself. There's no need to pay to be around an artist that I will never be. I can't be them. I can't make it. I can only be myself. I eventually closed my Botanica and turned it into an entire record label instead. I couldn't focus on two things at once. I still believe in Santa Muerte. I don't need another label for flashy jewels and private jets. Jewelry gets stolen and jets crash. Nothing last forever, except the music. 

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