Fog

Fog by John 55555

The fog descended, over my domain. I saw no horizon, and I felt no pain. The world seemed blunted, the colors seemed dulled, my cause did not weaken but my hand shook slightly beneath my gauntlet.

The grayness obscured the terrain. My steed looked from side to side, trying to stay aware of his surroundings.

I called out, high and clear, "Aswall! Aswall"

I listened carefully, reigning in my charger so his fain footsteps would not cover the chance of a returning cry. My horse walked on through the day-shadows of the mist.

Aswall had long ago left our father's lands, to find himself and his fortune abroad in more active, richer countries. His deeds were great, and many heard his name and of his courage. One too many.

One too many. For one night when he stopped at an inn, a rival warrior, I shall not call him a knight though he claims that title, paid the base innkeeper to put certain powders into his ale. Only by this could he be defeated, by slyness and foul stratagems.

My armor clanked as I rode through the moor, watching ever for the canyons that I knew slashed this barren place.

A man like my brother Aswall is not one to long be kept captive. I know not how, but he escaped that dark dungeon even as I tried to redeem him by ransom. He fled into the misty lands east of the remote keep. I questioned his jailors long before putting them to the sword, but they knew nothing of where he had gone.

And that is what brings me here, my horse's hooves thumping on the damp earth, my armor clouded with the moisture of the mist.

Why had he fled this way? Why did he not stay and fight, or journey to more hospitable lands? He had been known to have strange visions, to be moved by their messages, ending in greater deeds than any other of his quests. Perhaps the spirits called him to this place, it is not a land where men dwell, and legends speak of strange apparitions, events, happenings in this place.

A light shown far away through the fog. A world of light opened before me. Sounds filled my mind, many voices, inhuman, strange. My horse reared and tried to flee, only to be stilled by multitudinous, invisible hands.

The vague shining in the fog took form and shape, pattern. Odd hued beacons had been lit in a circle, in the center Aswall knelt, his arms restrained behind his back, though I saw no bonds. His eyes were closed, he seemed to be concentrating.

"Brother." I spoke, my voice ringing unexpectedly loud.

He raised his head and his eyes blinked open to look into my own, he said one word, "Run."

By Micah Kakaru Arkov

 http://supergoggles.wordpress.com/2012/06/25/bloody-stupid/

 Sea Fog by Caleb Cederak

Nick held Taylor close as they sat at the edge of the pier, a blanket of fog slowly dissipating as the morning sun came over the horizon. The constant lapping of gentle waves rolling by the pier splashed up against the edges of the concrete structure, accompanied by the occasional seagull squawk. The water was icy cold, usual for the Atlantic in February, and the air was similarly chilled.

As Taylor held her arms together from within Nick's coat, he wrapped his own arms around her, letting her head rest against his arm. They had decided on a whim to come and watch the winter sun, to enjoy one another's company in the frigid cold.

"When do you think you'll be back?" Taylor asked, smiling up into Nick's bright green eyes. Her breath was cold, escaping in visible puffs.

"When we're done," Nick replied, holding her a bit tighter. "No sooner, I'm afraid."

Taylor frowned, almost on the verge of crying. If she did, her tears would turn to crystal flakes within moments. There was enough chill in the air to ensure that. She inched her head up to Nick, placing a soft kiss to his lips.

"You're warm," she said, giggling.

"I know," Nick told her, giving her a gentle kiss back.

"Why are you doing this?" Taylor wondered. "I've read the news, love. I know what could become of you. My brother"-

"I know," Nick interrupted in a whisper. He knew how much her brother's death had affected her. He had only been nineteen years old, still so young, so much ahead of him. "I know. I only want to serve my country. I only want to put an end to all the fighting. Besides, I hear Europe is a beautiful place."

"Let's not talk about wars and Europe," Taylor replied, rubbing her arms together. "I won't be happy again until you return."

Nick gulped. There was no telling when he might return. In a couple years perhaps? What could change by 1919? Nick wasn't sure. "How long would you wait for me, love?"

The fog was nearly gone as the sun climbed higher into the sky. Taylor smiled sweetly when she replied, "I would wait for you…forever."