The Fog


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1. The Fog

      Fog gathers on the hilltop. Its whirling volume increases as the straggling tendrils appear. The fog hovers as if uncertain of which way it should travel. Its presence unnerves the denizens of the village below; prayers are muttered, crosses are made, pale children are clutched close, hands and teeth clench and babies cry.

       The fog rolls forwards slightly as if to plunge down the hill in a billowing avalanche of white cloud. Long wispy fingers snake out into the early morning air, dew covered flowers shrinking away at its touch. Without a sound the fog recedes from view. Sighs of relief fill the village. Cries of joy are heard. Kisses are exchanged.

      But their relief will not last long for the fog has foreseen what the people cannot; the arrival of a darker, more powerful fog that will consume all in its path, leaving behind only death and destruction. All life the oncoming fog touches will be snuffed out in the blink of an eye. The villagers do not know that the sunrise they are watching is the last they will ever see.

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