Dillan Blight: Paranormal Investigator

A gunshot shattered the silence, birds fleeing from the nearby trees. Dillan rolled as he hit the ground, back into the ditch. White hot pain filled his vision, but he forced it toward the back of his brain, pulling out his revolver. The second shot sent a plume of dirt and rock cascading over the edge of the ditch above him.
Dillan took a long slow breath and cocked the gun, rolling up, back against the edge of the ditch. He reached down and touched his leg. Blood. Plenty of it. He cursed under his breath, then traced a quick rune on the back of his right hand with the blood. Luck.

Dillan rolled onto his stomach and pulled himself slowly up to the edge, waving a hand up off to his left quickly before ducking up his head. A shot tore into the dirt off to his left. Dillan raised the revolver to the glint and flame of the distance and pulled the trigger three times. A clatter answered. Dillan let out a long breath and rolled back over, ripped off a jacket sleeve and tied it tightly around his leg.

He closed his eyes, breathing careful long slow breaths. Finally he pushed himself up, avoiding pressure on his injured leg. He slowly pulled himself up out of the ditch and limped heavily across the road. He worked his way along, leaning on trees up the road to where the shots had been fired from. A rifle lay at the bottom of the tree, near a bloody mess of a man. One of the rounds and destroyed his skull. Though that didn’t explain the rest of the damage.

Dillan frowned and carefully leaned in to shove the man over. The symbol carved into the man’s chest wasn’t immediately familiar, but it was easy enough to catch the intention. The second hint was the congealed blood. He sighed and picked up the rifle, as well as snatching up a heavy branch to use as a walking stick. Somebody was using dead bodies to attack him. Why couldn’t it be the shambly sort of zombie? Those were so much more straight forward. Guns made things nasty.

It was slower going, but Dillan stuck to the trees and kept following the road. Seemed like he was going in the right direction for whatever had drug him out here. Though it still didn’t explain what they wanted. Or why they were toying with him. It was going to be a long day.

Dillan Blight: Paranormal Investigator

Sunlight played over his closed eyelids with the ferocity of a heavy metal drummer. Dillan let out a long, low groan of unhappiness, struggled for a minute, then finally gave in and forced heavy eye-lids open. It took a moment to clear the haze in his head well enough to really get a look at where he was. It didn’t look nearly as much like his office as he had been hoping for. In fact, it looked an awful lot like a ditch at the side of the road. Which did at least explain some of the throbbing in his skull. He took stock as he slowly sat up. Yep, more then just the head throbbing. Clothes torn up. A little bloody, though at least some of that blood seemed to be someone else’s.

He slowly made it to his feat and climbed up to the road to look in both directions. Nothing but winding road and trees, one lane in either direction. He checked his shoulder holster. The reassuring weight of his .357 revolver was still their. He pulled it out and checked. Still loaded too. Now he just needed his head to clear enough to remember why someone had dumped him in the woods last night. And whether they had just been too busy to finish the job properly, or if someone had left him alive on purpose. Dillan dug out a battered pack of smokes from inside his suit coat. He sighed and tucked a rather mangled cigarette into his mouth. The plastic bic lighter had faired worse then the rest of it. He shoved the remains of it back in his pocket and reminded himself to get his Zippo refilled. It held up better to his abuse.

Dillan dusted himself off lightly and arbitrarily picked a direction and started following the road. On the up side, he was pretty sure he’d not taken his hat out last night. The haze was slowly lifting. He remembered a desperate phone call from a pretty voice, rushing out into the night, and that horribly familiar flash of bright white pain that almost always meant he was in over his head. Dillan sighed and shook his head. Not a good sign. Normally the muscle didn’t start in until you actually knew what the case was about. Unless, of course, he’d been hit harder then he remembered. That was a less then pleasant thought. It might be time for a check in with the old sawbones after all.

The Old Place

It began as whispers,

past playing out

next door, never

intruiding, but always

a presence – until

remodeling began,

new doors, windows

replacing walls.

Whispers faded

amidst hammers,

saws, accidents

plaguing workers,

strange sounds

filling nights

with discomfort,

raging against

change.

Sea-Widow

Old lady waiting,

her world a chair and window -

her grave across town.

Hauntings – II

Old house

expanded,

shaped by

dozens of

hands, lives

lived, traces

left.

Filling in

my years

of memories,

seeding mementos

across walls,

scuffs and dings

from before,

claiming

my place

amidst lingering

emotions, never

quite sure

how many

may be

my own.

Hauntings – I

Silk touch

wandering

remembered curves,

breath catching

at sounds,

ghosts of yesterday

more vivd

than life,

private prison

more solid

than stone,

personal demons

taunting senses
with whispers

that once

drove back

the dark.

Soul Searching

Searching

for meaning,

secrets trapped

in dreams,

in sounds

of a city

at night.

Feeling

two steps

behind,

always just

out of reach

of those answers,

those missing

pieces

that would make

everything finally

clear.

Stargazing

White creeps across

blue-black skies,

dissipating moon’s

soft glow into

curtain of distant

light, silhouetting

trees and wires,

twining slowly

across pin-prick

stars, swallowing

night sky, filling

air with scent

of rain, teasing

parched nostrils,

brushing away

long day of heat

with soft breeze.

Small comfort,

but enough

for another

day.

Brush Fire

Ash dances on wind

raining across desert town -

rain becomes a dream.

Watching Everyone Grow-Up

Waiting

somewhere between

was and is,

next act

lost somewhere

amidst love

and heartbreak.

Knowking

shape, structure

of what’s next,

but can’t

seem to grasp

specifics.

Faces slowly

changing without

me, leaving

me questioning,

puzzling,

muddling away

with pieces

that never

do fit.