Work Title

Alone in the Fog


Tom Wagle


I drove on forward into the fog - the gray, swirling, all enveloping fog. The peeping street lights appeared uncertain and dim on my either side as they feebly lit the hazy mist with an eerie, sleepy light. Often fingers of fog would reach out and suddenly snap about them, dimming them, shutting out yet more light. Queer, crazy, racing shadows leaped from nowhere in the all covering fog about me. An opening would yawn wide and inviting before me, my car lights would stab into it, I would follow. Slowly I drove on. Yet the fog, the fog - I, I couldn't escape it. It was everywhere - in all outside, reaching, surrounding, descending on all, cold and uncompromising. It filled me with a mood; swirled through my brain leaving a mood.



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