Bright Bottom is a small-ish town, little ways west of Alston for everyone who lives around the North Pennies, and near Newcastle for everyone else. Despite its name, it’s not very bright nor at the bottom of anything. In fact, the only thing of any interest is an underwhelming lake on the south side of town, which most locals would call a glorified mud puddle if asked.

It’s a neat, quiet town, where tourists often venture to while looking for accommodation or the nearest parking lot, but never stay too long. They might take a quick look around, have a nice lunch on the square, and before they know it, they’re on their way again.

It's the kind of place where kids can play on the roads. They're not always human and not always alive, but it’s not something you would notice as you pass slowly, careful not to run over their toes.

If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

The people who do live here are those strange and unusual. Those who don't care if their neighbour smells like a dog and sometimes tracks blood over their side of the lawn, since they always have sugar or a few eggs to spare when it’s time for last-minute baking.

You wouldn’t find a train station or a transit route in the official maps, but drivers of the 681 Tynedale Links bus stop there a few times a day anyway, even if they aren't sure why.

If you were to somehow find your way to the town square and take the road to address End 24, you’d be stood outside a small shop full of odd trinkets and artifacts. On a normal day, one Richard Kinley would be tending the counter, and he’d greet you with a small smile. This is not a normal day, however. The shop sits empty, and a lonely magpie watches you from the rusty gutter above your head.

Richard Kinley is gone, and no one is quite sure what to do next.