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Out of our dreams come our realities; out of the mystery comes the truth; when the light is born unto the dark, out of reality comes the nightmare.

I am Robert, but everyone called me Bobby. Not much of a name really, more suited for a little boy, but it stuck with me as I grew up. I was a journalist, well, not what you would call a real journalist. I wrote for the worldly news, it published the unbelievable stories like the jersey devil holds old lady for ransom . . . but I was a good writer and I made these stories capture the readers' attention, more for the readers' entertainment than anything else. The stories were not made up, but no one ever checked them out, we would get a phone call that someone was captured by aliens and it would go in print, no questions asked. We took the word of every paranoid person that called us with an amazing story.

I guess I was born to write fiction, which is why I did not do well in journalism. I would add too much fluff to the story and I was criticized for using so many unneeded words, good journalism is cut dry and to the point. So when I was offered a job as a reporter for, lets face it, a fictional magazine, I jumped at the opportunity regardless of the flack I received from my friends. From my point of view I was having my creative writing published and distributed nationwide, I was happy.

My happiness was short lived without any recognition or praise for my work. I began to research the leads that came in to find one that I could prove to be legitimate. My search lasted two years and became an obsession that strained my relationships with my superiors and my fiance. At the end of the second year of my obsession I found what I was looking for and I was pushed to a brink of change in a 'do or die' situation. I received a call from a distraught woman in Manchester Massachusetts, claiming that her son was possessed by the devil. I sensed a terror in her voice that could not be put on for show, and it sparked my interest to investigate it further. I pulled local newspapers up online and sure enough found strange thing s happening around the town that reporters were shrugging off as just plain weird, but then buried. Therefore, I made up my mind I had to go personally to Massachusetts and investigate these claims for myself. However, leaving work for a week or more to indulge my aggravating obsession pushed my boss to give me an ultimatum, go and get fired. So I cleaned out my desk, choosing to give up my job in search of

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