Horror Fan Fiction ❯ Spring Fog ❯ Chapter 1

Disclaimer: All ideas, characters, and concepts contained herein belong to me, Rea Konecki, AKA LadyLark.

 

 

Spring Fog

By LadyLark

 

***

 

It didn't start out as one of those days that would change your life. In fact, it started off pretty much normally.

 

I got up late, like ninety percent of people do on weekends. I putzed around the house, ignoring the dishes in the sink and the dirty clothes on the floor. Instead, I surfed the internet and sent e-mails. I had an appointment that afternoon to get new tires installed on my car, a Toyota Matrix. Around seven, I was planning on heading over to a friend's house. In all, it was shaping up to be a boring day.

 

I had just moved back to Michigan a few months ago after attending college in Florida, so I was still getting used to the differences in weather. It was around the first day of spring, although up here, that is a misnomer. Spring doesn't really come until mid-April this far north. What the first day of spring means up here, is that Mother Nature likes to mix up things for the surrounding weeks so that we have no idea what is coming next. One moment it will be sunny and sixty degrees out, the next it will be snowing so hard that walking outside to get the paper would be akin to embarking upon an arctic adventure. It drives the weathermen up here nuts and any that accurately predicts the weather are accused of being psychic or worse.

 

However, I had forgotten this fact. So when the guy on News 8 said that it was going to be partly cloudy with a chance of snow showers in the late morning then clearing up as the day went by, I believed him.

 

That was my first mistake.

 

I got my tires and fooled around for the rest of the afternoon in the mall before heading out to Byron Center to visit my friend, Rachel, at her dad's house. Rachel and I have known each other since high school, but after her parents split up we kinda lost track. We reconnected in my sophomore year of college, after I ran into her at Schuler's Bookstore in the romance section. After that, I visited her a few times on winter break and when I came home over the summer. But, this was mostly at her mom's house in the city. I'd only been out to her dad's place twice before, so I still wasn't all that familiar with the area.

 

I left early, wanting to give myself enough time to navigate the strange roads. When I got there, the party was already in full swing. People were munching on homemade pizza and potato chips and someone had broken out the old blender to make margaritas. Little kids dashed from room to room playing Marco Polo, while the adults played Euchre or Gin.

 

I joined in on a game of Euchre and the time passed quickly. I didn't drink because I had to drive the thirty miles home and I didn't relish ending up in a ditch somewhere trying to explain to the cops why I couldn't walk, much less drive, in a straight line.

 

A little after one, I called it a night. Rachel walked me out. I bummed a clove off of her and we stood around my car as we blew smoke into the air.

 

“It was fun, Rach. I had a good time,” I offered, hoping to start a conversation.

 

“Cool.”

 

The reply seemed typically non-committal, and I inwardly sighed in frustration. I leaned back against the car, watching the smoke swirl and dance in the air.

 

“It's a nice night. Although, it is a little cold.”

 

She laughed. “That's what you get for going to school in the Sunshine State!”

 

“Ugh. Don't remind me. That was one of the stupidest moves on my part.” I took another drag off of my cigarette. “I just want to put it all behind me and move on.”

 

“So what do you plan on doing?”

 

I shrugged. “I don't know. Getting a degree in English seemed a good idea at the time since no one seems able to speak it in this country. But there aren't any good jobs out there for someone who can diagram a sentence. Unless you want to teach, and I don't have my certificate.”

 

“Tell me about it.”

 

I glanced at my watch and groaned. “Look, I've gotta run. I promised my parents I'd be home by two.” I gave her a hug. “I'll see ya!”

 

She returned my hug. “It was good to see ya! Drive safe!”

 

“Don't I always?” I asked archly.

 

Rachel gave me a sharp look. “Look, be careful driving home. The roads out here aren't like they are in the city. You have to watch out for things.”

 

“I haven't been out of Michigan that long,” I said, exasperated. “I know to watch out for deer and other potential roadkill.”

 

She shrugged in a way that seemed to say, `do what you will' and walked back into the house. I ground out my cigarette in the dirt and got into my Matrix. I was frustrated that Rachel was giving me driving advice. If anything, I should be better prepared after dealing with all of the stupid drivers in Florida for unexpected driving incidents. So I didn't listen to her warning.

 

That was my second mistake.

 

Pulling out of her driveway and onto the dirt road, I didn't think that I really needed to pay any more attention than I normally do. The sky was clear, and while overcast, I didn't have trouble seeing down the road.

 

At least for the first mile.

 

A little after my first turn onto County Road 547, I started to notice that there were low clouds forming over the freshly plowed fields. It actually looked kinda neat. I kept glancing over at them, humming along with the radio.

 

The song I was listening to finished and an annoyingly upbeat American Idol reject came on. Groaning in disgust, I looked down to find another station -- any other station. I hit the seek button trying to find something that was semi-decent. I admit my mind was on the music and not the road, although I kept glancing up to make sure that I didn't meander into the other lane. I wasn't paying attention to the stuff going on around me.

 

After finding a classic rock station, I returned my eyes to the road and blinked in surprise. The clouds had settled over the road in a light mist. I frowned. I wasn't all that familiar with the roads to and from Rachel's place and could miss my turn on a good day. Let alone a night like this.

 

I slowed down, peering down the road ahead of me. I really didn't like this. It seemed as though the mist had read my mind and thickened with each passing mile. I couldn't believe it. I mean, when I'd left Rachel's house it was clear out, and now I was driving through the atmospherical equivalent of pea soup. I had to squint to make out the lines on the road. I thought about turning around and going back to Rachel's and just going home in the morning.

 

But, I rationalized, Rachel's dad was already putting up a lot of his family and friends. There probably wasn't room for me. Not to mention, for all that I was a social smoker, I couldn't put up with a house full of cigarette smoke for very long. So I kept driving.

 

That was my third mistake.

 

A pickup truck pulled out from one of the dirt roads that crisscrossed the countryside in front of me. I was grateful for another vehicle on the road. After driving through blinding snowstorms, I knew that you could see better with someone in front of you. I kept the pickup a few car lengths in front of me in an effort to see the road better.

 

He put on his blinker and I felt another wave of relief. We were at my turn. We both turned left onto Sixth Street. I just had to stay on this road and I would run right into the highway, which would take me back to the city.

 

No longer worried about getting lost, I concentrated on trying to stay on the road. The edge of the pavement wasn't very clearly marked and I really didn't want to end up in the retention ditch along the side of the road. The truck had managed to put about five car lengths between us. If I were to use his headlights in conjunction with my own, I needed to catch up.

 

The pickup started up a hill and I caught a glimpse of something reflected in his headlights. I squinted my eyes trying to make it out. It looked like a man hanging from the branch of a large tree. I could make out a rope and the body was swaying back and forth slightly as if moved by a gentle breeze.

 

My mind rebelled. The fog was playing tricks with my eyes, it insisted. Unfortunately, the truck chose that exact moment to turn off onto a dirt road. The figure disappeared.

 

My car reached the base of the hill and I leaned forward trying to see if my eyes were really playing tricks on me or not. I slowed down, but I didn't see anything in my headlights. No hanging figure, or anything that could be mistaken for such like a tree branch or a tire swing. Just a leafless tree. As I passed under where the figure would have been, I felt a cold chill pass through me.

 

Cursing my overactive imagination, I sped back up. The sooner I got off of these cursed back roads and on to the highway, the happier I would be.

 

The fog, which had thinned near the tree, thickened back up to the point where I couldn't even see the side of the road. My headlights appeared to be two solid glowing points and I could feel my heart beating.

 

As much as I wanted to deny it, I was scared.

 

The figure I saw hanging from the tree had looked so real. Even though I knew it couldn't be, there was a part of me that was convinced that I had seen a ghost.

 

Or something.

 

I was so distracted by my thoughts that I almost missed seeing the buck standing on the road.

 

Almost.

 

My reflexes took over. I slammed on the brakes. I knew I wasn't going to stop in time. I pulled the steering wheel to the right out of habit, praying that the damn deer wouldn't run that way.

 

I felt the jolt as my tires went off of the road and onto the gravel and grass that lined the shoulder. I held my breath, I was shooting to just be off the road long enough to miss the deer and not end up in the ditch.

 

It didn't work out that way.

 

My tire struck something - I don't know what - and I unconsciously jerked the wheel in sympathy. It was the wrong reaction. The Matrix plowed off of the road and into the cattail filled ditch.

 

I don't really remember stopping. I may have closed my eyes. I just remember my heart pounding and looking up after I'd stopped.

 

I took stock of my situation. I wasn't hurt, although I was going to have a nasty bruise on my shoulder from the seatbelt. My car was still running and the radio had switched songs. The Blue Oyster Cult's song “Don't Fear the Reaper” was playing. Oddly appropriate if you asked me.

 

I looked around. Somehow, my car had spun around and was pointing to the road, the back end resting in the cattails. That seemed to be a good thing in my mind. My car had front wheel drive and could probably pull itself out instead of spinning my wheels like a rear wheel drive car would do. I checked to make sure I was still in Drive and stepped on the gas.

 

Nothing happened.

 

Or rather nothing of interest happened. I could feel the engine straining and my wheels spinning trying to gain purchase. But I wasn't getting out of the ditch. I tried rocking the car, shifting back and forth between reverse and drive. All that did was send me further into the weeds.

 

Giving up, I reached for my cell phone. I had Triple-A for a reason. I flipped it open and groaned. No signal. I tried calling 9-1-1 and nothing. I opened the door and walked up to the road, hoping that I would get a signal there. And still nothing.

 

I went back to the car and sat down hard in the driver's seat. I was scared. I'd just been in an accident. I couldn't get out of the ditch. I couldn't call for help. And I was stuck in the middle of bloody nowhere in this blasted fog. I started shaking. I don't know if from shock or fear, but it really didn't matter. I knew mentally that I was okay but you couldn't convince my body of that.

 

I was torn about what to do next. Part of me wanted to stay put until someone drove past. Even in the middle of nowhere, cops still have to make their rounds. I could just sit tight and wait until that happened. The other part wanted to go for help. I knew from my drive in that there were houses scattered along the road every half-mile or so, I could just walk to one of them and ask to use their phone. Also if I walked towards the highway, chances were likely that I could get enough of a signal to call for help.

 

The two parts warred with each other for several minutes while I sat there and shook. Finally “We're Going For Help” smacked “Let's Wait Here” over the head with the rolling pin of “Do You Want to Be Stuck Out Here All Night” and the argument was settled. I checked my phone one last time, hoping that miraculously there was a signal. There wasn't. So with a sigh, I turned off the car grabbed my keys, purse, phone, and flashlight and left the car behind.

 

That was my last mistake.

 

I climbed the embankment and started down the road toward the highway. Every twenty or so steps I would stop and check my cell and see if there was a signal. There never was, but that didn't stop me from checking.

 

About five minutes in, I was starting to regret my decision to leave the car. There, at least, I could have had the radio to keep me company. Out on the road all I could hear was the sound of my shoes as they scrunched on the gravel beside the road.

 

The fog continued to act strangely. I kept feeling something, like a breeze, ruffling my hair and caressing my face. But that wasn't possible. From my college weather class, I knew that if there was wind, the fog would start to dissipate. This fog acted like it wasn't going anywhere.

 

It also was oddly warm out. The thermometer in my car had read forty degrees when I left the Matrix. Which was warm for this time of year, but still should have felt cold. Especially to me, since I had lived in Florida for the last four years. Instead, it felt like a typical Florida spring night in the upper fifties. I was grateful for that small favor, since I had been worried about the cold. I didn't relish the thought of hypothermia or freezing to death. Still it was strange.

 

The wind caressed my face again. I wanted to go back to the car. I didn't like being out on the road and my flashlight was about as useful as my headlights had been. Which is to say, not at all. Still, I figured I'd walked about a quarter of a mile and I should be coming upon a house soon. I also kept my ears peeled for any sound of an approaching vehicle. I didn't want to be run over and I didn't want to miss the chance to be rescued.

 

My shoulder was starting to hurt as the adrenaline in my system wore off. I stopped to fish out some ibuprofen from my purse, when I heard what sounded like a laugh from behind me. I spun around trying to find the source. I heard it again, this time from the left. I turned that way, but the sound seemed oddly muffled. Like it was coming from several directions at once.

 

I couldn't even tell if the sounds were human. I mean it sounded like a laugh, but that could be my ears playing tricks on me. After all, my eyes had already had their turn, so they probably felt left out.

 

I wasn't accomplishing anything by standing there listening to strange sounds. I turned and continued walking down the road, when I saw something man shaped walking towards me through the fog.

 

I panicked. Thoughts of the police finding my mangled and violated body flashed through my mind. I fumbled with the flashlight, dropping it. Luckily it switched off when it hit the ground. I scrambled down the side of the shoulder and into the ditch. Cold water seeped into my shoes but I didn't pay any attention to it. My eyes were trained on the road where the figure should have been. I didn't see anything.

 

I forced myself to stay put. I was in the cattails and the fog was providing me cover. So long as I didn't move, it was unlikely anyone would know where I was. My rationalization didn't stop my heart from pounding frantically. I strained my ears trying to detect any sound of movement.

 

Nothing.

 

I stayed still for what seemed like hours but were probably only a few minutes. The cold water in my shoes was starting to become more than a little uncomfortable. It had progressed from just cold, to painfully cold. The longer I hid there, the stupider I felt. My eyes had already played tricks on me once this evening; they were probably just doing so again.

 

Moving from my hiding place, I trudged back up the side of the ditch. My feet slipped every so often on my climb and I ended up having to crawl up the side on all fours. I was grateful that no one was around to see me, since I know my cheeks were flaming in shame. I reached the top and searched for my flashlight.

 

After about five minutes of searching I gave up. The thing was probably two feet from me, but at night and in this fog I was never going to find it.

 

I started down the side of the road again, my shoes sloshing with every step. The funny wind was back again, caressing my face and playing with my hair. I looked down at the weeds at my feet and noticed they weren't moving. I also couldn't hear any sounds of rustling that would indicate a breeze. However, I couldn't deny that something was making my hair move. If I didn't know better, I would say that it was trying to soothe me. Silly, huh? But the breeze, and to a lesser extent the fog, felt sentient to me.

 

The fog felt ominous. Which considering the fact that it had been the cause of most of my troubles, it wasn't surprising that I felt that. The breeze was another story entirely. I was still creeped out by it since breezes don't happen in fog banks. And they certainly don't happen to be localized around my head. It was weird, but it didn't feel malevolent.

 

I opened my cell phone to see if I had any signal - I didn't - and noticed the time. It had been over an hour since I had set off from my car. Taking into consideration my panic attack, I still should have reached a house or a driveway by now. But I hadn't passed anything. No mailbox or any other sign of civilization, I was alone out here.

 

I shivered at that thought. I didn't like the thought of being alone in a strange place and I found myself wishing I had stayed with my car. I didn't know what to do next. I mean, I only had two choices: go forward or go back. But neither appealed. I was afraid to go back, because in this fog I could walk right past my car and never know it. I was afraid to go forward because I didn't know if it would do any good.

 

“I don't know what to do,” I murmured to myself.

 

“Come to me,” a voice, a male voice, answered from behind me.

 

My head shot up and I whirled around trying to find the source. I didn't see anything or anyone. My heart was pounding again.

 

“What was that?” I asked, hoping that I wouldn't get a response.

 

“Come to me,” it repeated and my heart sank.

 

I didn't like having my rhetorical questions answered. And I really didn't like having them answered by disembodied voices.

 

“Who…who's there?” I managed to get out timidly. I winced at the stumble and chastised myself for sounding like the brainless bimbo in a horror flick. I vowed that I was going to have better control of myself. It wasn't going to do me any good to act scared.

 

The voice chuckled. “I am.”

 

A shudder ran through me at the tone, malevolent and seductive all in one. I screwed up my courage and managed to speak in a normal, albeit annoyed, tone. “That isn't very helpful. Who the hell and where the hell are you?”

 

“My apologies, my lady” he replied. “You may call me Darian. As for where I am, I am merely another traveler in the night. And I desired some company.”

 

His voice sent shivers down my spine, and not the good kind. “Look, you're creeping me out so just quit it! Save the whole freaky voice tricks and stuff for Halloween when the kiddies will appreciate it more,” I called back annoyed. I kept looking around, hoping to catch of glimpse of the man behind the voice.

 

“It was not my intention to `creep you out' as you say. I merely wished for you to join me.”

 

“Thanks, but no thanks. Sexy David Bowie voice aside, you haven't said or done anything to make me trust you.” Smacking myself for saying, much less thinking, that the disembodied voice was sexy. It was creepy and I needed to keep that thought firmly in my mind.

 

“Of course, you are correct,” Darian conceded in amusement. “How can I show you my sincerity?”

 

“First off, you could come out where I can see you.”

 

He sighed. “I should have known you would request that first. However, I can't accommodate you.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“Why do you have to ask the difficult questions first?” he muttered, almost to himself.

 

“Just special, I guess.” I answered flippantly.

 

“That you are…” he said in a warm tone. “Perhaps that is the place to start.”

 

“Huh?”

 

“You are indeed special. Everything that has happened this night has been for your benefit.”

 

I narrowed my eyes. “What do you mean?”

 

“One night of the year, the spirits of the restless dead walk the earth searching . . . searching for whatever can give them pleasure. Some seek love, while others seek to devour flesh, but most seek special mortals to torment.”

 

“Why? What do you mean special?”

 

“The dead live on strong emotion and the strongest is terror. However, they can only feed on those who believe in them. The power of belief is very great.”

 

“I don't believe in ghosts!” I cried indignantly.

 

“Oh really? What about your grandmother?”

 

I froze. How could he know about that? Right after my Grandma died, I had the oddest feeling that she was with me. I used to tell my friends that I had a guardian angel watching over me. The feeling lasted until I went to college. I always believed that she felt guilty about dying when I was so young and leaving me without any grandparents. But that didn't count did it. My believing that my grandmother was watching over me had nothing to do with spirits whose only goal was to eat me.

 

“That doesn't count!” I shouted.

 

“Oh, it doesn't? I would beg to differ. Your denial does not matter in any case. Your belief in your heart is what counts. By accepting one aspect of the supernatural as real, you must accept all aspects.”

 

“Oh . . . I hadn't thought about it that way. So what does that mean for me?”

 

“It means that the dead want you. Right now, they are hunting for you. Some of them have already found you.”

 

My heart stopped. “Do you mean the man hanging from the tree . . . ” I trailed off.

 

“That was one. The deer was another. The figure in the fog was still one more.”

 

“What about you?”

 

“Ah, I am different. But I will get to that later. So far, you have only encountered one spirit at a time. However, soon you shall start encountering groups. I assume you recall the voices you heard tonight?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Good. Those were some of the spirits hunting you.”

 

“What will they do when they find me?” I asked. I really didn't want to know and at the same time I couldn't stop myself from asking.

 

“It depends on which group finds you first. The majority will terrorize you, preying upon your worst fears until your heart stops from sheer exhaustion. However, there is a second group that craves your flesh, if they find you. Well . . .” He let it hang there unsaid. I could visualize what the second group would do, a school of piranha looked like a pleasant alternative.

 

“You didn't mention the fog. Was the fog the spirits doing?”

 

“If you come to me, I can protect you from them.”

 

I was getting sick of his avoidance. “Dammit! Answer my question!”

 

“No, the fog was not their doing.”

 

“Then whose was it?”

 

Darian was silent for a while. “They are close. They can taste your fear.”

 

“Answer me!”

 

“The fog was my doing.”

 

“But why? Why do you want me?”

 

“I believe I have already answered that.”

 

“Well, then I missed it!”

 

“You are special.”

 

“That doesn't answer my question!”

 

“You do not have the time to be standing here asking questions. Your fear rolls off of you in waves. You are attracting the dead to you. They smell your fear and they want to taste it.”

 

I moaned. He was right; for all that I was annoyed with him. I was still scared. Terrified really. I wanted to run but I was certain that wouldn't help me. Darian had created the fog and he showed no interest in letting me go. And if what he said was true, I was being hunted.

 

I looked over to where I heard the voice and asked. “Are you the Devil?”

 

He laughed in delight. “No, the Devil is a human creation. Something for them to blame their own evil doing on. I am something else.”

 

“What?”

 

“Come to me and find out.”

 

Suddenly, I started hearing voices. Other voices. And they were getting closer. I whirled around in panic. Through the fog I could faintly make out animal and humanoid shapes.

 

Darian seemed to notice them as well. “Hurry! You do not have much time left!”

 

I looked around me and saw that Darian was right. The figures seemed to be surrounding me, forming a semi-circle where my only escape was into the cattails along the side of the road. The same place I heard Darian's voice coming from.

 

I looked toward the spirits and then toward Darian. “Will you protect me from them?”

 

My question seemed to please him. “I will do more than that. Come to me and I will show you.”

 

Glancing to the figures, I saw I didn't have much choice. I could see the ghostly shapes clearer now. Some of them appeared to be taken right out of Night on Bald Mountain and others I can't even begin to describe. But they all had the same expressions on, they looked hungry and I was the main course.

 

I decided not to wait any longer. Scrambling down the embankment, I ran into the swamp. Behind me I could hear hoots and cackles as the creatures gave chase. I tore through the cattails, trying to escape.

 

“Where are you?” I called frantically.

 

“I am near. Just follow my voice.”

 

I looked behind me and wished I hadn't. “They're getting closer!”

 

“You are almost there, just a few steps more.”

 

I could see a faint glow coming from ahead of me. Breaking through the reeds, I ran into a clearing. Hovering in midair, I saw him. He was dark, pale, and beautiful. The disturbing thing about his appearance, other than floating bit, was the fact that I could see through him.

 

Darian extended his hand. “Will you join me?”

 

Turning my head, I glanced over my shoulder. The spirits were right on my tail. I looked back at Darian. He smiled at me. It wasn't comforting.

 

I was out of choices. Out of options. All I had left was the rock and a hard place -- either I could take my chances with the ghouls or with Darian. Neither seemed like a good choice. Taking a deep breath, I lunged forward and grabbed his hand.

 

The sound of Darian's laughter filled my head. With a plop, my belongings fell to the ground.

 

I threw my head back and screamed. Then, I knew no more.

 

***

 

The next morning, a wandering patrol car found the Matrix. He stopped by all of the surrounding houses asking if anyone had seen me. No one had.

 

A search was organized and my family informed. They found my flashlight crushed by the side of the road with tracks leading into the wetlands. They called in the dogs, but all they found was my purse, keys, and cell phone lying in a heap.

 

No trace of my body was ever found.

 

***

 

What happened to me, you ask?

 

When I grasped Darian's hand, I died. My body was absorbed into my new, ethereal form. I was reborn as one of the nobility of the waking dead. Darian was the lord of this region and the spirits answered to him. What he had told me was true, even though he had kept certain key facts to himself.

 

Like the fact that I was dead no matter what choice I made. By choosing Darian, I had unwittingly agreed to become his bride. I wasn't happy about it at first. But eventually, I came to see his point of view. A mortal who believed in the spirit realm was a rarity in these modern times. Rarer still, was to find an adult who still believed.

 

Darian had picked me out years ago. But my move had forced him to wait. He had wanted me for a consort and queen. The prestige my capture would give him would solidify his power for centuries.

 

Now he had me.

 

Next year, it's my turn to prove myself. I already have a target picked out. She is a lovely little girl, about six years old.

 

She will make an excellent addition to the family.

 

***

AN: This story is based on true events. Really. The whole thing with the tree and the fog was real. It happened to me last year in late march coming back from a friend's house. Seeing the guy swinging in the non-existent breeze and then him suddenly disappearing, had me freaked out for the rest of the trip home and then for the next week. To this day, I call the tree I saw him from “Creepy Tree.” The description of the accident came from an accident I had one winter - damn ice. The rest of it. Well, I made some of it up.

 

This is my first piece of original fiction. Let me know what you think.