The night brought a chill with it, as always. Like many nights before, the sky was pitch black. The stars and moon shined right off the water. It seemed as if you could grab them.
I was sitting on the pier, like I always did. I come out here for the serenity. See, being what I am, I don't get any time to myself.
I am what one call the fixer. Some would call me a politician, a cheat, a con, a witch, a warlock, a vampire a shape shifter, and many more names. They are attributed to me because of what I do.They are meaningless to me. I deal with problems others don't want to even here about. To top this off I get very little pay for it.
What happens is a journalist, the police, the FBI, the CIA, even the NSA comes to me with these problem that tend to be of super natural origin. They usually want them to disappear. So I indulge them at the right price. Most of the time it is just bull shit anyways. Every now and then I run into situations that can't be explained scientifically.
But as I learn in this field a long time ago theirs always some kind fact in the fiction. The problem is how to weed it out. Keep it simple and specific, or you'll be going a a lot of wild goose chase. All because your to gullible too know better.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem