It wasn't the 'Shanus' bar, the 'Drinkers' bar, or even the 'Late Nights' bar, no, just like every other bar in the civilised world, it was just 'the bar with the good stuff' or 'the bar around the corner'.
It was there the friends stopped for rest. The many pointed roofs cast long shadows over the dirt ground shadowing the wide narrow streets. It wouldn't be long till the sun ducked behind the horizon to take its leave.

They sat on the front porch of the saloon, leaning against the wooden beams that supported the roof.
Ever now and then a drunk old geezer would stagger out the front door grumbling about a large fish he had fought once.

Linda had fallen asleep against one of the crooked rails while Davis etched his name into the wood with a pocket knife. Oliver had somehow acquired a small wooden flute and was making an array of screeching noises.

Breece watched Ava undo her braided hair, only to twist  the strands together once again.

Oliver turned to Breece and Ava, "You know what? We need a name for ourselves. Like all great adventures!"

Ava laughed and tied the end of her hair off with an old ribbon, "Okay like what?"

Davis piped up, "Yeah, but it has to be meaningful or something!"

Breece snorted, "Yeah, but we have to like earn the name like with an adventure first like The Blue Fallings who were the first ones to climb the mountains near Skulven."

"So if we find the graves what would we call ourselves, Cemetery Hunters?" Ava scoffed.

Oliver gasped, "Ill have you know the Graves can in no way be classified as a cemetery! Firstly because there are no graves with the names of the deceased on them, making it not a cemetery. Secondly because it is an ancient legend dating back way before Bullawut cemetery, which is the oldest cemetery in the entire civilised world, was even made. Hence forth, it's not a cemetery. Anyway Cemetery Hunters is stupid anyway."
Oliver crossed his arms and smirked, his nose and eyes wrinkling over tiny freckles.

"Oh shut up, nobody cares." Ava and Davis said simultaneously.

"Oliver." Breece laughed, "It's a cemetery for the living."

Breece turned and looked down the long street of wooden buildings, empty of life now except a few people milling around farther away.
It was colder now, Breece shivered. He could hear his friends behind him, Ava was getting mad at Oliver for some unknown reason to which Oliver only snored. Breece smirked, he had fallen asleep.
Breece wondered if it would be fine if they just fell asleep on the porch, but it probably would, knowing that drunks pass out all around the place at bars.

"Breece hold still!"

"Wha-"

SMACK

Davis slapped him over the back of the neck then laughed, "Sorry mate, a mozzy was biting ya."

Davis displayed his hand to reveal a squished mosquito leaking a splatter of Breece's blood.
Ava jumped over to see what happened, "Wow it's a big one, nice blood Breece."

"Didn't have to do it so hard." Breece sulked, rubbing his neck. He turned and watched a white and brown dog run accross the street.

It was about forty five minutes later that they had all finally fallen asleep on the cold hard porch.

34 minutes later a single cart rode into town in the pitch black, bringing news of the disappearance of Skulven Mayors son, Breece Brooker and his four friends, Oliver Landon, Ava Stilton, Clinton Davis and Linda Ways.
.........
So sorry I haven't updated in ages, I have no excuse I apologise to all of my 4 readers 😂. Thanks greatly for reading this far. Leave a comment on what you think, let me know if a made any errors, vote if you like. Thanks guys