THE FOG
The fog is gathering again. Evil lives in its
depths. And I know I'm a victim. Last Halloween, while on my way home, the car
suddenly stopped. I had plenty of gas, and the battery was new. But no matter
what I did, the damn thing wouldn't start.
A mile yet to go. I could do that. I'd be home in
fifteen minutes. I gathered my belongings. Right before stepping out of the
car, I saw the fog. It was approaching fast. Blowing in waves like thick smoke
pushed by an otherworldly wind. There was no breeze, but watching it move belied
that.
I locked the car door and ran home. My heel caught
and broke. I kicked my shoes off and continued barefoot. Superstition about the
fog urged me forward.
But something grabbed me from behind. I was at his
mercy.
A knife slashed my cheek. I kicked backward and
somehow got free. I raced to the door, key in hand, and I was inside just as
the fog reached my porch. The clock chimed midnight.
I was bloody, but I was alive. And the fog had
disappeared.
Tonight, a year later, it's Halloween once again.
The temperature keeps dropping, and the fog has surrounded
my house. Death's come to finish the job.
The chill of fear brittles my bones. I close the
curtains, check all the locks, and return to the dining room to ensure the
patio door is double-locked. But I'd already done that several times. I was on
edge, unable to think straight. Terror had me in its talons.
As the clock began the countdown to midnight, I
breathed a sigh of relief. But then noticed the fog seeping in from every crevice.
Even locked doors wouldn't keep death out. He's come for me again. I ran to the
bathroom shower and turned on the cold water. Surly, cold water will kill the
fog and keep me safe. Just a few more chimes till midnight…
The next
morning:
"That psycho slasher has struck again,"
the police officer tells the detective as he walks into my house.
~~**~~
350
Words
Yolanda
Renée © 2023
Photo by wild vibes on Unsplash
