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Panic In The Pentagram

October 31, 2015

Detective Smith stood at the window, looked at the sad sack in interrogation room #2, and laughed. In room #2 sat a Marilyn Manson look alike who, thanks to an apparent weak bladder, now smelled like piss. He opened the interrogation room door and took a seat at the table opposite the kid. The Kid was a 19 year old named Richie Evans. He had black eyeliner on, a blood stained Bullet For My Valentine shirt, blood soaked jeans, and black finger polish on his finger nails.

“Alright kid, why don’t we cut the bullshit and get this over with yeah? You don’t want to be here, Sargeant York in the other room doesn’t want to be here, and I sure as hell don’t want to be here. What do you say eh kid?” This was the fourth hour of the interrogation and the kid was still playing him for a fool.

“I already told you guys. It’s not my fault you won’t listen.” Richie spoke slowly and in a monotone voice.

“Right, a demon killed your friend. And in other news I have a bridge in New York I’d like to sell you.” Smith reached up and rubbed his temples, the fucking kid was giving him a migraine.

“I know you don’t believe me, but it’s the truth.”

“Let me get this straight kid, we find you curled up in the corner of a warehouse that your friend’s father just happens to own, with blood all over you, and pieces of your friend all over the building, and you want me to believe that it was…a demon?”

“Believe what you want.” Richie was wringing his hands. Good, thought Smith, he’s nervous. “Here’s what I believe Richie. I believe that early this morning, you and Jimmy Dornhoffer were at the warehouse belonging to Dornhoffer industries, doing fuck knows what. I believe something led to an argument and in a blind rage you stabbed Jimmy so many times that you literally bled him dry. Once you realized exactly what you had done, you drew a Pentagram on the floor with his blood, and made up this BS story about a demon. Sound about right?” Smith sat back in his chair with a smug grin on his face. He knew guilt when he saw it.

“I DID NOT KILL JIMMY!” Richie slammed his hands down on the table. The first real sign of emotion he’d shown since being tossed in the room.

“Okay sunshine, tell you what, why don’t you start at the beginning again and convince me that you didn’t kill your friend.” Richie sighed.

“Jimmy was always messin’ around with books on the devil and witchcraft. Shit like the Necronomicon and the Satanic Bible. He loved that stuff and always talked about wanting to summon a demon one day. None of us took him seriously, because he was always kind of a fuckup. He always had these outlandish ideas. Everyone always made fun of him because of it.

They also gave him a time because he tried so hard to be tough. As much as I love the kid, not only was he not tough, but he was accident prone. One day in 10th grade, a kid challenged him to a fight in the teacher’s parking lot at school. Jimmy charged the kid to hit him but ended up tripping over his own feet and knocked himself out on the back end of the Principles station wagon. In all honesty, the occult was the only thing he didn’t really fuck up, at least until this morning.” Richie sighed and looked down.

“Go on.” Smith wanted this to be over with so they could get to the bottom of this whole thing. If he had to placate the little bastard by letting him spin his fantasy, then so be it.

“Around three this morning I got a phone call from Jimmy. He was all excited like and said he had finally figured it out, but that he needed my help. When I asked him what that help was, he wouldn’t tell me, just told me to meet him at his dad’s warehouse on the edge of town. Not the one in use on Rosewood, but the empty one over on Fairhaven by the Burger Belly–”

“I know the one Richie.”

“Right, anyway, I got dressed and headed out there. He met me by the back entrance; he was talking so fast his words ran together. I told him to slow down and tell me why I had come all the way out there at three-thirty in the morning. He didn’t say anything, just beckoned me to follow him inside. The warehouse was enormous; I could hear our footsteps echoing throughout the building. In the middle of the floor, Jimmy had drawn a red Pentagram. ‘Jesus Jimmy is that blood?’ I asked him. He held up his left hand which had a laceration right through the middle of the palm. He said he’d finally figured out how to summon a demon and that he needed my help. I got angry because I figured it was just another outlandish stunt. I told him I that it wasn’t cool and that I was going to go home. At that point, he gave me the look, we called it the Dornhoffer look. It was the Jimmy equivalent of sad puppy dog eyes. At that point I knew I had to stay. The kid was my best friend, even if it was just a bunch of bullshit I couldn’t leave him there alone.”

“I get it, the kid was your friend, you felt a sense of duty.”

“Yeah, if you say so. At any rate, Jimmy said that he needed me to hold a candle at the top of the Pentagram so that he had something to focus on. He said that if he lost focus during the incantation, he’d lose his control over the demon and it would run loose. I figured what the fuck, I could hold a candle while he babbled some new age bullshit. Then it would be over and I could get home.”

“Let me guess, that’s not what happened.” Smith could feel the snark settling in. This kid better hurry it up.

“Obviously. I held the candle at the top of the Pentagram after Jimmy had turned out the lights. Jimmy started reading the incantion he had written down. Halfway through, a giant pillar of fire roared up from the center of the Pentagram. Of course Jimmy being Jimmy, he freaked out and started screaming. Suddenly a massive creature appeared where the fire had been. It was easily eight, maybe nine feet tall. It was covered in black hair with two giant tusks pointing upwards from its bottom jaw and two giant horns on its head.”

“Really? You had all this time to come up with something good, and all you can come up with is a Bigfoot/Walrus hybrid?” Smith laughed and started to get up.

“Please Detective. You’ve mocked me ever since you threw me in here. At least allow me to finish.”

Smith sat down. He was going to enjoy locking this smug little shit up. “Go ahead.”

“As soon as the demon appeared, it grabbed Jimmy and growled at him. Jimmy immediately shit his pants. The demon shook Jimmy and growled again, then it spoke.”

“Alright, Richie, I’ll bite. What did the demon say?”

Richie fidgeted a bit and then answered. “It called him a pussy.”

Smith looked at the sad sack of flesh sitting across from him for a moment before busting into laughter. “Well, I have to admit, you are a creative one Richie. Tell me, what did the demon do next?”

“It screamed in his face until Jimmy pissed all over himself. The demon kept making fun of him and screaming at him. He told Jimmy at one point to hand over the incantation or he would fuck Jimmy’s mom. When Jimmy handed him the incantation, the demon started beating off on it. When it was done it threw the incantation back at Jimmy before tearing him apart.” Richie trailed off as tears formed in the corners of his eyes.

“That is one hell of a story kid. Since you decided to waste my time though, I’m going to waste yours for a bit. I have the incantation here in my pocket. You are going to re-enact this little ritual you and your dead friend performed. If a demon appears, I’ll know you’re telling the truth. If not, well, your ass is going to get charged with murder one.” With that, Smith pulled out the rumpled incantation and handed it to Richie.

“Are you crazy man? Have you not been listening to what I’ve been saying?” Richie had a horrified look on his face.

“You don’t have much of a choice kid. Sure, you could lawyer up and go to trial, but the evidence would be enough for any jury to lock your sorry ass away for life. Show me the demon, and I will let you go.” Smith took out a swiss army knife and sliced the palm of his hand until there was enough blood on the table to form the Pentagram with. When it was done, he handed Richie the rumpled incantation.

“The lights have to be out, Detective and you need to stand at the head of the Pentagram with a lit candle.”

Smith left the room for a moment and came back with a white candle and a box of matches. He lit the candle, turned out the lights, and then stood at the head of the pentagram. Richie took a deep breath and started to read the incantation. Halfway through, a stiff breeze blew through the room extinguishing the candle.

“You need to relight the candle Detective, I can’t see.”

Suddenly a gravelly voice, a voice that sounded eerily similar to the detective’s, barked out from Detective Smith’s side of the room. “Did you think I had forgotten about you Richie? I killed that fat fuck friend of yours only to find you passed out in the corner. By the way, I did fuck Jimmy’s mother, and when I’m done with you, I’m going to fuck yours as well…pussy.”

The last thing Richie felt was the wet warmth in his jeans as he pissed his pants for the second time.

-CJ Williamson

© 2014 Library of Congress

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