The Fog steals things.
When it first began to do so, everyone was confused, and more than a little worried. By now, though, it’s just a part of life. Household items mysteriously disappear, and a different small trinket is left in the place of each. It’s sometimes amusing, occasionally useful, but most often just annoying. I don’t mind it too much—by now, most common items are created to be easily replaceable, and the Fog rarely steals anything valuable.
It never steals people.
When Marian Brodger, our neighbor, woke up to find her son’s bed empty and the only thing resting in the blankets a small silver clock, she, along with the whole town, blamed the Fog. The uproar was enormous. If the Fog was taking people now, who knows what else it could take? What if this happened again and again?
It was only the Fog that people were worried about, of course. Only themselves and their families and their own belongings. With the exception of Marian and a few others, no one cared about the boy who was gone. My friend. Lex.
Unlike the rest of the town, though, it wasn’t the Fog that scared me. I know the Fog doesn’t take people.
What scares me is that something else did.
I gave Lex the clock for his sixteenth birthday. He took it apart and rebuilt it dozens of times, sometimes changing or improving something, sometimes leaving it the same. But it always still ran. It ticked in a circle to tell the time or the weather or whatever Lex had decided he wanted from it.
When Marian found it, the hands were still.
She didn’t want anyone to go near it, as it was the last remembrance she had of her son, but I had to. I had to know why he’d left it as a message for me. It had to be a message and not from the Fog. The Fog never left a trinket that had already been in that room. Never.
That afternoon, while Marian was out working, I walked the few houses over to Lex’s house and stopped outside his window. The front door would be locked, of course, but Lex had taught me years ago how to open his window from the outside.
I picked up the small piece of metal on the windowsill and slid it under the edge of the pane, shifting it around until I managed to release the small bolt with a click. Then I grabbed the bottom of the window with one hand and pushed on the top. The window levered open.
From there, it only took a bit of awkward climbing to clamber inside. The room looked untouched. The bed was still messy, all of the mechanical trinkets in their places on his shelves. The clock wasn’t on his bed, though.
With no lights on, the room was gray and empty. I left it, closing the door behind me. I headed to the kitchen.
The clock wasn't there or anywhere in the living room. Finally, though I felt uncomfortable doing it, I opened Marian's door.
And there it was, placed on the table next to her bed. I picked it up and screwed open the back with the tool I’d brought in my pocket.
My breath caught when I opened up the clock.
There was a piece of paper tucked among the gears.
All that was written on it were two words: The Claws.
I knew what that meant. The Claws was a creepy-looking old tree at the edge of the village. We had gone adventuring there sometimes when our child selves were feeling especially bold. Most of the kids who lived here had done so at some point or another.
But what did that tree have to do with anything?
I turned the small clock back over, studying it absentmindedly. Suddenly I realized the hands were stopped directly on 11:00.
It could just be a coincidence, but…
I slipped the piece of paper into my pocket, returned the clock to its place, and left the house.
But at 10:30 that night, I snuck out of my house and headed to the Claws.
I saw a few wisps of Fog near me as I walked. Though I still didn’t believe it was what had taken Lex, I still made sure to stay safely distant from any signs of mist. Finally I reached the tree.
Its twisted branches reached out toward me, looking much more menacing in the dark. It was no wonder why children were afraid of it, I thought, even though I knew it was nothing but dead wood. I leaned back against the trunk and waited.
I wasn’t sure how much time had passed before a pale mist began to suddenly coalesce in front of me.
The Fog.
It rapidly rose up into a wall on either side and in front of me. I pressed myself back against the dark tree, trying to escape the edge of the vapor. Had I been wrong? Was the Fog malicious after all, and now it was going to take me too?
Before it touched me, all movement stopped. From the damp gray emptiness in front of me stepped the figure of a girl.
My whole body was tense. I didn’t know who this thing was or what she wanted. But I knew why I was here. So I asked, “Do you know where Lex Brodger is?”
“No,” the figure said, in a strange voice that sounded oddly like water—smooth and rippling and layered. “But I know more about his absence than you do. Do you trust me?”
She held out a hand.
“No,” I said immediately and truthfully.
She laughed. It sounded like rain. “Good answer,” she said. “Still, the choice is yours. Follow me and help us find Lex, or leave now and never know what happened to him.”
My heart pounded. I knew what the right choice was. The smart choice.
But had I ever been smart?
I had to find Lex. If I didn't, who would?
I took a breath, reached out, and took the girl's outstretched hand. The figure pulled me forward, and I stepped into the Fog.
