The Deepening Fog Pt. 3

The kill had been sloppy, I'd known it, but it had been so long since I had had to use any of those skills, any of that training, that I just did it. But I would have to refine things from now on, I knew that, and hope my first slip up was my last. If I was to find her again, there was nothing that could go wrong, it had to run like machinery, every time, when I had to, I had to do it right. A blackening tinge began to fill the edges of my view, and I wondered if I should again chance another rest. But as I ran on the darkness continued to slowly flow over everything, like an inky drizzle, and I knew it wasn't fatigue. Night was coming. Slinking up behind me like a ghoul after my skin. But the darker it got, the better off I would be. The darker it got, the less would my pursuers be able to see me, and more able would I be to see them. S.H.

The Deepening Fog

Tell me of this, the wheedle the warp, the beadle and snap, the warbling bird that sat above my head. I cricked my head and held it to the sky. The clouds were made of branches, crooked and beautiful. The ground was damp and dark, a mess of dead leaves. The light cut lines of dull grey through the air. I set off again, a weight in my boots that has seldom been there before, but neither a surprise to my heart. The cold was manageable as no wind scratched through the trunks of the trees. I held a simple pace, over hillock and round creek, the crystal light a deepened fog. I’d gone for at least an hour before I looked down at what I was wearing. A tattered suit and totally inappropriate shoes, a gun in my jacket pocket. I stopped and pulled it out, a black and frigid lump of metal, I had no idea how it had gotten there. But considering I had no idea how I had gotten where I was too, the heavy weapon in my possession was a small task at hand. S.H.