Waking up to an urgent phone call from his homicide unit captain at 3:00 a.m, Raymond Boyett, otherwise known as Ray-B, scrambled for his phone before the damn thing rang again.

He could visualize his wife rolling her eyes at him, even in the dark. marriages in his line of work, usually had a short shelf-life. Begrudgingly grabbing his badge and gun, then quietly laughing to himself as the forgotten screen door banged loudly against its splintered frame, eliciting a roar of curse words from his soon-to-be ex.

Ray-Bshook his head vigorously as if by doing so, he could dislodge the full moon from the sky and all the crazy shit that came along with it. The full moon seemed to have some kind of magical pull. Luring all of the can-collecting crazies out of hiding, like cock-roaches scurrying from the light, back into the darkness.

Aloud of smog heralded Ray-B's Arrival to the crime scene, as his car sputtered to a stop. Opening the dented door of his Geo-Metro, and hurriedly slamming it shut, thereby trapping empty cigarette packs and greasy sandwich wrappers from spilling out and onto the street.

The crime scene looked like a chapter out of a Stephen King novel. Puddles of blood wandered outside the crudely drawn chalk lines, like a preschool coloring book with only a half- broken red crayon to color with. The crime scene tape fluttered in the wind, barely containing the area, brushing over the hastily covered bodies, smacking Ray-B in the face.

The saying that death comes in threes was given credence as Ray-B surveyed his surroundings. He wondered to himself what could cause the unnatural state of the three bodies now so void of life. "One's just a baby for God sakes!" Ray-B whispered to himself.

People who just an hour earlier were so full of personality. So alive.

Turning to leave, Ray-B noticed a glint of what looked like a small crucifix sticking out of one of the bloody puddles. The cross lured him in. Like the"precious" on "The Lord of the Rings."

He carefully reached for an evidence bag and realized that in his haste he had forgotten them. "Oh what the hell." He murmured. Scoopingit up, he shook the stubborn blood from it. As soon as his fingers had encircled it, he heard a crackling sound and felt a lightning bolt course through his body.

Ray-B fought to regain consciousness. No longer feeling in control. So many questions flooded his mind, It was as though his thoughts of movement didn't line up with how his body responded.

"Who turned the damn lights out!" Ray-B yelled. He realized he couldn't even get a full lungful of air. Grappling for some semblance of understanding. It felt like a coffin. panic began to overcome him.

Sharp shafts of light never seeming to penetrate the darkness, almost palpable in this confining space. "a coffin!" "It has to be!" Ray-B softly whimpered.

A minute felt like a day before he was grabbed out of the coffin, and like a child would throw his toy, he was tossed and tumbled into what seemed to be a ravine.

It was weird, nothing made sense to his bewildered mind. He could hear his own voice, hell weirder than that, was hearing his wife answer and laugh. As though there was a movie of his memories playing. Playing on a loop.

"This can't really be happening?" he thought to himself. A voice that only he could hear interrupted his Godless mind...It was a deep baritone voice that interrupted his sanity, and the stillness of his straining ears... "Don't worry your simple self, Ray-B, I'm only borrowing your body for a timeless minute!" "It looks like your pretty little wife has been lacking attention, and it's been so long since I've been with a human!" taunted the demon.

"Hell, have at her!" yelled Ray-B as he struggled futilely against the invisible bonds that now held his spirit. Even as he did so a realization began pulling at the most innermost memories only he and his wife had shared. He could hear his marriage vows as they echoed through his mind. Silently tugging at his heart, and echoing into his subconscious.

Ray-B realized that if this evil existed so then did God. With each minute that fell he begged God for forgiveness, and just one more chance. One more chance to go back and do things right. The demon inside him fought his spirit over the power of his body. The demon told him that It, and it alone killed the people who lay strewn about.

Ray-B was powerless as he watched a playback of what had taken place as the small family was tortured and killed. Beginning with the child, and ending with the parents.

The Demon told him that in no uncertain terms, by the time he was done with him Ray-B would be blamed for these murders and the ones yet to come. Ray-B quickly sobered to his newfound reality as the demon released his mind.

Gathering his senses, and haunted by the memory of the oath swore by the demon. The oath to assassinate Ray-B's character, and direct the blame of all future crimes straight to him.

Ray-B looked around for any evidence that would place him at the scene. Scanning the room he noticed that his flip phone had fallen from his pocket and lodged itself in the crook of one of the bloody victims' lifeless bodies.

"How crazy, I investigate murders, and this demon, unseen by anyone else commits them." Ray-B thought to himself. He felt his soul being crudely jammed back into the deep chasm.

Every time Ray-B had the chance to pray, he prayed.

He reached deep from within himself for the right words.

Suddenly a booming voice broke the invisible bonds holding him, falling away from him like half-popped balloons.

"Demon be gone!" In the holy name of Jesus Christ, I command you!"

Ray-B awoke, finding himself vomiting the darkness of unbelief onto the thirsty pavement.

All the pieces of his spiritual puzzle suddenly began to fit together, to finally make sense. The highs and lows Ray-B had experienced throughout his existence, hell, even the feelings of intuition, "it's all spiritual! It has to be," he thought.

Ray-B scanned the gruesome scene that the demon had left in its wake. The carnage and the unrealistic poses of death the bodies ended up in, painted a macabre memory for him. This whole day, a day of spiritual awakening, and a day which Detective Ray-B could not easily file in a dusty drawer like the long-forgotten job applicants of the year before.

Stopping at a nearby convenient store, Ray-B walked through the sticky doors of the 7/11. Making it past a skulking teen in a ragged hoodie, Ray-B tried not to breathe as the stench of body odor assaulted his nostrils.

Little Micky, as everyone who was anyone knew, stood behind the 7/11 counter with a starched collar and smartly creased pants. "How are you doing Mr. Ray-B sir?" said Little Micky as he smartly saluted him.

Disregarding little Ricky's greeting completely, detective Ray-B grumpily countered with a retort, "how old is the coffee? "Little Micky nervously murmured an answer as the self-help audiobook he had been playing in the background belied the slowness of the supermarket during the never-ending graveyard hours.

"Just made it!" And spurred on by his coffee readiness, little Micky asked Ray-B, "So, any idea if you guys are hiring?

"Ray-Bsmiled as he remembered throwing his application on top of the rest of the non-hireable. "I know that there was the question of whether or not I was the required 100 yards from the schoolyard, but I swear it, I really, really was!

"See you tomorrow." Answered Ray-B, as he threw a wrinkled five-dollar bill towards little Micky. "Same bat-station, same bat-channel!" Yelled Little Micky as he pretended to catch it like a winning Superbowl pass.