I caught up with Evil, which debuted on CBS a couple of weeks ago. Or maybe Evil caught up with me. No, I caught up with Evil.
And though I'm not much of a fan of demonic possession stories—same as the lead character, Dr. Kristen Bouchard, the forensic psychologist with a sharp brain who needs money—I thought the first episode was really good. In fact, it's the best new show on network TV I've seen so far this season.
The most interesting and best handled thread in this episode involves Bouchard being visited by an incubus (a male demon with sex on his mind). She vividly dreams or sees the demon (George) look under her nightgown at her Caesarian scar and panties. And then (of course, because this is still network TV) she wakes up screaming. And mostly believing that all she had was a bad dream. And when George visits her again, she realizes that she can't read the writing on the paper she taped to the ceiling, which proves that she's dreaming since you can't read in your dream. Or so she says—I have no idea if that's true—but it makes a good plot point.
But when Bouchard pays a call on a psychotic serial killer who claims he's possessed, he knows what George the incubus said to Bouchard, all about her scar and those panties. How could this be? Is George really a demon that the psycho had access to?
I won't tell you the way that Bouchard refutes this and figures out the truth—in case you haven't seen this show—but it's clever and original. And you should see Evil. It's not only a good science vs. spirituality show—or better, science and spirituality working hand in hand—but it looks like it has the makings of a good mystery narrative as well.
About the Creator
Paul Levinson
Novels The Silk Code, The Plot To Save Socrates, It's Real Life: An Alternate History of The Beatles; LPs Twice Upon A Rhyme & Welcome Up; nonfiction The Soft Edge & Digital McLuhan, translated into 15 languages. Prof, Fordham Univ.
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"Scream 7" (2026): Running out of Fresh Screams
This is the seventh time we’ve had a Ghostface crisis. Scream 7 is the latest edition of the Scream franchise. Sydney Prescott and her family are under attack by another anonymous killer dressed in a Ghostface costume. While having issues with her daughter, Tatum, they run from the bloody murders, trying to determine who is behind it all.
By Marielle Sabbag5 days ago in Horror
The Message I Received at 3:17 AM That Changed Everything
It was 3:17 AM when my phone buzzed. I wasn’t expecting any messages at this hour, and yet, there it was—a notification that made my heart skip a beat. The sender’s number was unfamiliar, a string of digits that didn’t seem to exist. At first, I thought it was a prank or a wrong number. But as I stared at the screen, a shiver ran down my spine. The night was silent except for the faint hum of my air conditioner. I had been reading on the couch, a cup of coffee growing cold beside me, when the message arrived. The glow from the phone screen illuminated my face in the otherwise dark room, and the words on it were simple, yet terrifying: “I know what you did.” My first reaction was disbelief. Who could know? And what exactly did they mean? I quickly checked my call log, my messages, even my social media—but nothing seemed out of place. My mind raced through every memory, every small secret I thought I had buried safely. Nothing made sense. I tried to brush it off. Maybe it was just a spam message, or someone trying to scare me. But deep down, I couldn’t shake the unease. Another buzz. Another message. “Check the drawer under your desk.” I froze. My desk. The one place I kept my old journals, letters, and random keepsakes. Hesitation gripped me, but curiosity got the better of fear. I walked over to the desk, my steps slow and deliberate, trying to avoid making a sound. The drawers were ordinary, the top one containing my stationery. But the second drawer… it was slightly open. I hadn’t left it that way. My hands trembled as I pulled it fully open. Inside was an envelope, yellowed with age, no name on it, no stamp. Just my initials written in hurried handwriting. I picked it up, my heart pounding so hard I thought it might burst from my chest. The envelope contained a single sheet of paper. The handwriting was familiar—it was my own. I had no memory of writing this letter, yet reading it sent chills through me. The message inside described events from a week ago, tiny choices I had made, conversations I had forgotten… and ended with a warning: “If you ignore this, everything will be revealed.” Panic set in. I checked the room again. Every light, every corner, every shadow seemed alive. The air felt heavier, as if something unseen was watching me. My phone buzzed again, this time with a single word: “Now.” I didn’t know what to do. Should I call the police? Should I delete everything? My instincts screamed to run, but I couldn’t leave the envelope behind. Something about it demanded attention, a silent command that I couldn’t ignore. Slowly, I unfolded the paper again. The words seemed to shift, almost as if the letter itself were alive. Memories I had blocked came rushing back—the lie I told my best friend, the small theft at a local store I thought no one noticed, the message I sent to someone I shouldn’t have. All of it documented here, perfectly detailed. How was this possible? How could anyone know so much? Suddenly, the room’s temperature dropped. My breath became visible in the faint light of the phone. I thought I saw a shadow move in the corner of my eye, but when I turned, nothing was there. My phone buzzed once more. Another message: “You can’t hide anymore.” Fear turned into a strange clarity. I realized that this was more than a threat—it was a reflection. The envelope, the messages, the unknown sender… it wasn’t about someone else. It was about me. About the parts of myself I had ignored, the secrets I thought I could bury, and the truth I had avoided facing. I spent the rest of the night going through everything I had ever hidden, every journal, every memory, every tiny choice that made me who I was. By morning, I felt exhausted but different. The fear hadn’t disappeared, but it had shifted into understanding. I couldn’t change the past, but I could face it—and maybe, just maybe, write a better future. To this day, I don’t know who sent the first message at 3:17 AM. Some nights, I still feel the chill when my phone buzzes, a reminder that the past never truly leaves us. But I also know this: sometimes, the scariest messages lead to the most important revelations. And every time I think I’ve escaped my past, I check my phone… just in case.
By Baseer Shaheen about 3 hours ago in Horror
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