Hunters

Chapter One

There is almost no light here; I can barley see anything at all, just the slow moving shadows of leaves and grass billowing in the wind. There are no stars tonight but this does not surprise me. The crippling light pollution from nearby towns rid this small dot of wildlife of any nightime beauty. Clouds shrouded the moon in a grey cloak that seems to glow slightly in an otherworldly fashion. The only real brightness on me is the white toe and rim on my converse and the dim reflection of my key ring torch's shiny suurface. I wear all black and the darkness of the night conceals me from the view of any unsispecting bystanders. Not that there are many people on the top of Ridgemont Hill on a Tuesday midnight normaly anyway. I have only seen a single car pass by here and that was just the ranger's land rover. I didn't even bother to cower because the large tree trunk blocked me from view of the road and out of the sight of blinding headlights.

Contrary to my appearance, I don't actually look all that different ffrom what I would wear durig the daytime. I chose them partly to stay hidden from any people but mostly because of their warmth and flexibility and the fact that they won't be considered out of the ordainary if anybody sees me leave here in the early hours of the morning. The weather forecast said it would be a beautiful morning, with warm sunshine and no rain. It doesn't surprise me. It's not fair but it seems that the day always has to be so beautiful when I will spend it recovering and relaxing as much as I can.

I blink slowly and feel my muscles begining to relax. What I wouldn't give to be lying on the old matress at the motel with the yellowing bedsheet draped around me like a fur coat. I can already feel the soft pillow beneath my head. My eyes close for a moment too long. No, this won't do! Come on Cas, I think to myself, stay awake. I sit up a little straighter now and force my legs to strech out a little, rustling the leaves on my branch slightly. I move my shoulders and slowly work the exhaustion from my limbs. I can be more alert now. I glance behind the tree trunk at the road, keeping an eye out for anything passing by. I don't see anything unusual yet.

I was lucky to get this job really, ususally other hunters snap up the easy cases but then again, it's usually the noobs who go for te easy ones. This job looked to be easy enough to let me relax on my vacation but not plain enough for my mind to be occupied by other things. I think about the job a little and what information I have learned about this infamous It's apparently nothing special, just your typican run-of-the-mill murderous ghost out for vengence. It's nice to have get a job that's so easy. It took me just one day to find out everything I need to know about the so-called Ridgemont Ripper. According to information sourced from local newspaper articles I obtained from the library, this ghost appears on the thirteenth of every month and, if there's anybody around, kills them by pushing them off the cliff edge.It's only twenty feet or so from the ground so it can take a while for people to die. One guy didn't, he managed to survive and tell his story. I would have liked to speak to him but he died a couple of weeks ago, days before his nintey-third birthday.

I beleive the ghost's name was Thomas Anthony, a reasonably common and normal name. As far as the newspaper articles tell, he wasn't a bad person in life. It happens a lot when I am hunting ghosts; it always seems that those who died a violent death become violent after death. Those who were furious and evil in life, often don't come back as ghosts. I think this is maybe because they got all of their anger out in life. Anyway, I don't like to think about it. there is no point in feeling pity for murderers no matter how amazing they once were. No matter what, the end result is always the same.

Suddenly, I can hear the sound of footsteps crunching on the dirt road. It isn't loud but in the silence, it seems like it was blasted on a loudspeaker. The large drop at the end of the cliff only helps broadcast the noise. Great. Now It's going to be harder to neak up on this guy. I clutch the dark wooden handle or my blade. It fits snugly in my hand, just as it always has. I smile slightly and twist around to see it. He stands, facing the cliff and I can just about see him in the darkness. From what I can tell, he is about five-foot three or something. He doesn't look too tall but that doesn't mean he won't be powerful.