Amid the quite farms that lay off the road from Lumbridge to Varrock, the working day was coming to a close. Loretta was working on dismantling her road side stand, where she sold fresh produce from her husband's garden to travelers. Ollen was guiding his cows into their enclosure for the night. Old Nellie busied herself picking up the balls of soft yarn she had spun that day. All was peaceful in the country at first glance.

 

Loretta waved to her husband, Henry, as he finished working in his fields.

 

"Did you have a good day, love?" He called out.

 

Loretta smiled and held up a small sack of coins. "I think I'll finally be able to afford fabric so I can make you a new pair of trousers!"

 

Henry smiled. "I can't for you to tell me all about it!"

 

Ollen picked up his straw hat from under the tree where he had been watching the cows, and headed back to the house he shared with his mother, father, and two younger sisters. His mother greeted him at the door. "Come in, dear. We're just about to have supper."

 

On the old kitchen table sat bowls filled with chunky mashed potatoes, boiled vegetables, and a hearty loaf of bread. "Looks delicious, Ma." Ollen seated himself next to his youngest sister Tarina, and let his ravenous teenage appetite take over.

 

Old Nellie patted the head of her scruffy cat Yuri as she locked the door to her cabin. Nellie lit a few beeswax candles that she had won from a church festival the week before, and began chopping carrots for a small pot of soup.

 

Henry checked his pocket watch mid-way through their supper. "Loretta, dear. Its almost seven. I suppose we should lock up." Together the couple locked their doors and windows, and blew out their candles, plunging the room into darkness.

 

The old cuckoo clock on the wall of the kitchen signalled that it was five minutes to seven. Ollen's father and mother stood from their dinners, and began bolting the doors shut, and pulling the latch on their windows. Ollen calmly picked up his younger sisters, and sat them on his lap. His mothers joined them at the table, as Ollen's father turned out the oil lamps burning in the house.

 

Old Nellie watched from her porch as people began turning out their lights and locking their doors. "Well Yuri," she said, turning to her ragged tabby. "I guess its time." She pulled the chain across her front door, and closed the shutters on the window tight. Pulling Yuri into her lap, she blew out the candles that sat burning in her one roomed cabin.

 

The last of the liquid orange sun sank beneath the horizon, the families that lived along the lonely road to Varrock gathered their families, and huddled calmly together, to wait out what was to come.

 

As darkness settled over the land, a strange red light gathered like a mist, and glided slowly along the road. A curious chicken that had gotten out of its coop walked into the path of the glowing ball of light. As the strange phenomenon passed, the chicken layed down as if it was setting in for a long nap. Except as the light continued on its journey, the poor bird never woke.

It's nice. I like the last few sentences.

Interesting but not gripping. Didn't feel like I knew the characters, just that the characters existed.

 

But I still want to know what will happen next so..Anyway what happened to that reality thing?

Interesting but not gripping. Didn't feel like I knew the characters, just that the characters existed.

 

But I still want to know what will happen next so..Anyway what happened to that reality thing?

 

 

 

Dropped it.

Jasper Quernoth walked down the road leading from Lumbridge to Varrock with a spring in his step. This was the last leg of his journey. Finally, he was going to get his big break! No longer would he be Jasper T. Quernoth, son of Reginald K. Quernoth, famous expert on Barbarian folk, but he'd be Jasper T. Quernoth, entrepenuer and jack of all trades!

 

He pictured himself living in a large stone house safely inside the walls of Varrock, with people stopping now and then and pointing. "That's where that Quernoth fellow lives! Great man! And rich to boot!"

 

The sun was sinking as Jasper pulled a tattered map out of his burlap sack. "Only a few miles to go! I'll get there a little past nightfall... a great time to sample some of that hot Varrock nightlife I've heard so much about!"

 

As Jasper tucked his map back into his bag, a woman came bolting across the lawn of a small cabin. "Sir... what're you doing?"

 

Jasper smiled. "I'm going to Varrock. And what's a pretty lady like you doing out on the road alone? Don't you know there's highway men out here at night?"

 

"Highway men? That's the least of your worries!" She looked nervously as the last sliver of sun sank beyond the horizon. "Get inside, now!" Jasper began to refuse, but the woman grabbed his hand and pulled him inside.

 

A man ran to the door and shut it as soon as they entered, and began fastening all sorts of locks. Jasper looked around the tiny cabin.

 

It was furnished with a rough hewn wooden table and chairs, a small range, a water pump, and an overstuffed armchair next to the hearth. A small shelf stood filled with books, next to a door that Jasper guessed led to a bedroom. The cabin had no light, except a few streams of light coming through a crack under the door.

 

The lady offered Jasper a chair. "You'd best be huddling with us, now."

 

Jasper raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

 

The woman sat down close to her husband. "Because, the lights have been known to seep through cracks and kill ya'!"

 

"What lights? Why would they kill me?"

 

The man sighed. "We live on a strech of road known as King's Pass. I'm sure you're familiar with the story of King Avery the Rouge?"

 

Jasper shook his head. "I've never heard of him."

 

The man looked shocked. "You must be an out of towner then... well, anyways, King Avery was a harsh army man, who always won his battles, even if it ment sacrificin' the lives of thousands of his own men. One day, Avery was leading his army down this very road from his castle in Varrock, on his way to conquer Al Karhid. They made it all the way to the gates of the desert, when the battle between Avery's Army and Al Karhid's warriors began. Avery's army was outnumbered, but he figured he could take the turban wearing, kabob eatin' sand pants down any day. Well, he was wrong. All of Avery's men were killed in that battle, including the mighty king himself.

 

"All of them?" Jasper asked.

 

"All of them. And there were thousands! Now, every night, at sundown, Avery's army passes through on their last triumphent ride. There's thousands of balls of light, that travel down this path. And there's the shouting of soldiers, and the hoofbeats of horses. And if you get into the light's path, you'll be killed instantly-" The man slammed his hand on the table, "And be forced to join Avery's Army for all of eternity."

 

The lady smiled nervously. "My name's Loretta, by the way. And this is my husband, Henry."

 

Jasper shook their hands. Loretta spoke once again. "You're lucky I saw you as I was shutting that last window. See, we have to shut all doors and blow out all the candles. If Avery's Army see's any light, they try to get in. And few survive that."

 

Jasper began to speak, as a roar was heard outside. Loretta pressed her finger to her lips. A sound like a thousand beating hooves running past the door was heard, along with shouts of men and the excited cries of horses. A bright red light seeped in through the cracks under the door. Jasper gripped the table, as the noise got louder and louder.

As the noise died down, the light coming from under the door faded. Jasper gripped the table as Loretta and Henry began re-opening windows and lighting candles.

 

"What the bloody hell was that?" Jasper panted.

 

Loretta smiled. "The spirits, of course. They come every night at sundown, we warned you."

 

Jasper laughed uncomfortably. "Ha ha... yeah... uh... well I'm going to start back on my way then..."

 

Henry peeked out the window. "Its pretty dark, and there's some dangerous characters out there. Better spend the night."

 

Jasper picked up his bag. "Thanks but no thanks. I've got places to go and people to see, and I ain't got no time to get all chummy with a couple of peasent folk. Good night."

 

Jasper walked confidently out the door, leaving Loretta and Henry behind. He had gotten no more than ten feet from the cabin when he saw something that stopped him in his tracks. A body was lying in the road, unmoving.

 

Jasper called for Loretta and Henry, who came running outside. Loretta gasped when she caught sight of the body. "Remy Dunsberry..." She exhaled as she buried her face in Henry's chest.

 

Henry sighed. "Teenage boy who went to our church. Lives on a farm a few miles from here."

 

The sound of Loretta sobbing and Jasper's scream had drawn a small crowd from the surronding houses. One boy in particular seemed interested in the casualty. His father tried to stand in his way as the boy came from the house, but it was no use.

 

The boy let out a cry, and ran to the body. "Remy? Remy?! Oh God... no... no... not Remy..."

 

The boy's parents pulled him back. "Ollen, calm down. Ollen... for Saradomin's sake..."

 

Ollen ripped out of his parent's grip and ran down the road out of sight. His father mumbled under his breath.

 

"God dammit boy..." Ollen's mother sobbed quietly, as two small faces peered out of the house.

 

A thin, hunched figure appeared on the horizon, a mangy cat at it's heels.

 

"Remy Dunsberry... stupid child."

 

Loretta gasped. "Nellie? Is that any way to talk of the deceased?"

 

Old Nellia waved her off. "Well what child raised in these parts would even think of coming out during the spirit ride? Boy must have been daft..."

 

Jasper backed away from the scene quite shaken, and began down the road towards a faint glow in the distance- Varrock.

 

He had gone about a half mile when he heard quiet crying coming from an abandoned house a few feet off the road. Curious, he walked over and poked his head inside.

 

Ollen sat on the floor, punching a sack of wheat and sobbing. Jasper knocked on the door frame, and approached the boy.

 

"Uh... you alright there kid?"

 

Ollen didn't look up. "What do you think?"

King Roald sat behind his giant, polish mahogany desk inspecting decrees his scribes had written up when a thin bespeckled man burst in. "King Roald.. you highness.." the little man bowed with grace.

 

"I'm afraid I carry very unfortunate news, your majesty."

 

The king sat back. "Um yes... what was your name again?"

 

"Denrik, sir. My name is Denrik. I'm the substitute assistant you hired last week."

 

The king sighed. "And where is Michael?"

 

"In Catherbury, sir. On holiday."

 

The king nodded. "Right... carry on Dennis."

 

"Denrik, sir."

 

"Whatever. Go on."

 

Denrik opened a roll of parchment. "The spirit riders of Avery's pass, I'm sure you're familiar, they have claimed a victim."

 

King Roald raised an eyebrow. "A human victim?"

 

Denrik nodded. "A teenage boy, your highness. I have some paranormal experts along with officers of the Royal Police at the scene investigating."

 

King Roald rubbed his temples. "I get one every couple of years. Its usually animals killed, not humans. It'd be great if those infernal ghouls would just go to... wherever and leave those peasents alone!"

 

Denrik thought for a moment. "King Roald?"

 

"Yes Denny?"

 

"Denrik, sir. I think I know somebody who can make those spirits cross over for good."

It was nearing two in the morning when Denrik reached the scene of death. A member of the Royal police, Officer Ulla, approached Denrik immedietly. "King Roald sent word that you were coming. Where is the ghost hunter?"

 

Denrik began to speak when a booming voice was heard from behind.

 

"The name's Argus Smithe, and I prefer the term paranormal investigator."

 

Denrik smiled. "Argus, thanks for coming on such short notice!"

 

Argus shrugged his broad shoulders. "No problem. You know the Rouge's Lights are a passion of mine! Now, where's the kid?"

 

Officer Ulla pointed to a roped off section of road. Argus lifted the rope over his head, and stepped in. He kneeled down beside Remy's corpse, and thought. Then he pulled out a small rock on a chain.

 

Officer Ulla stepped inside the rope, followed by Denrik. "What on Saradomin's green earth is that?"

 

Argus placed the stone on Remy's cold lips. "Its a paranormal capacity crystal. You place it like so, and-" The rock began to glow bright green. "Voila! It changes color, and you know how much paranormal activity is still present inside a specimin."

 

Officer Ulla scratched his head.' "Um... care to elaborate?"

 

"You see, when paranormal activity happens in or around a person, living or dead, it leaves a trace. We measure it so you can know the danger level of the spirit you're dealing with. See, the rock is green, the highest level. The spirit is an angry one, and will kill instantly."

 

Denrik shuddered. "So... what are you going to do now, Argus?"

 

"Easy. We have to find what's making these spirits come back every night, and try to solve it."

 

Officer Ulla stepped forward. "The king and his army are angry over their loss, Mr. Smithe."

 

Argus stroked his curly beard. "Hmm... well... there's no easy way to solve that one... that means that an exorcism is in order..."

Ooh, a ghost story.

Jasper sat in the First Church of Saradomin, between Loretta and Henry, in his wrikled suit that he had packed in case a good business deal was in order. Across the isle, Ollen and his family sat in their pew, right behind a sobbing couple who turned to be the dead boy's parents.

 

Jasper felt uncomfortable, like a bug under a microscope. Behind the mouring farmers and their families stood a small, bespeceld man, a man in a Royal Police uniform, and a big burly man in what appeared to be a dragon scale suit.

 

The priest, an elderly man in aged white and blue robes, stood behind the casket and flower arangments. "Dearly beloved, we have gathered here today to remember Remylus B. Dunsburry, cherised son of Marlene and Franklin Dunsburry."

 

Jasper listened as a foul autmn wind picked up outside the tiny clapboard church, which sat smack dab in the middle of the tiny farming community between Lumbridge and Varrock. He shuddered at the pale face that appeared to be only sleeping in the casket. The boy's hair, which had been dark brown at one point, seemed to be faded. \

 

After the service Jasper was about to make his way to Varrock along with the last hours of daylight, when the large man stopped him.

 

"Are you a relative of the departed?"

 

"Um... no. I was just passing through one night, and the lights came you know, so I stayed in a cabin with that couple over there, and when I was leaving I found the body."

 

"So unfortunete." The man handed Jasper a card that read:

 

 

 

Argus Smithe,

 

for all of your paranormal and investigative needs

 

3857 Camalot St, Varrock

 

 

 

Jasper put the card in his pocket. "Um... thanks. Can I go? I need to get to Varrock, I'm late as is."

 

Arugs shook his head. "You look like a smart man. We need one more hand tonight in the exorcism."

 

"Woah, wait... you're exorcising the light thingys? Why do you need me?"

 

Argus shrugged. "We always need extra help. We're setting up camp at the gates of Al Karhid, meet us there in one hour. And make haste, its getting dark out."

 

Argus left Jasper standing in the doorward of the First Church of Saradomin. Leaves swirled in the fading sunlight, as if being propelled by an unseen being.