The clock chimed 7 times, and several people stood up from their desks, preparing to leave. At 9 chimes, everyone had gone, leaving the post office nearly empty. At 10 chimes, many of the lanterns had gone out, and a bitter cold had begun to creep throughout the building. After 11 chimes, Lucas finally looked up from his work and rubbed his eyes. A long day indeed. Seldom had he been so tired of the sight of his own office.
Lucas's workplace was a simple one. He spent many hours in the small enclosure at the back of the Post Office sorting a vast multitude of letters, boxes, bags, and other packages into their designated bin. Many people in Lucas's small community resented their jobs; The construction workers, the store keepers, carriage drivers, etc. They would all sigh in great lamentation when reminded that the next day would be just as boring as this one had been. But not Lucas. Lucas held his position of "Letter Sorter" proudly. His job, he knew, was simple, yet essential, and he was never one to beg for attention. He didn't mind the seclusion in the least.
That being said, this day had been a long one. It was December 16, 1836, and families from every corner of the United States were sending letters to one another, inquiring who was to go where for Christmas and what to do during that time. Lucas lived alone and so felt no obligation to leave for his home until he was satisfied with his work for the day.
The clock's song faded to familiar silence, and he decided he should get some sleep while he still could. He quickly donned his coat and hat, and stepped out from the warm office into the cold December night. He immediately regretted his decision to not bring gloves. The wind was very slight, but the wintry air was frigid, and his coat did relatively little to shield him from it.
Lucas had come to know the path that led between his workplace and home very well. His thoughts began to wander as he strolled along the path. He hoped he hadn't made any mistakes while working. Perhaps he shouldn't have stayed up so late. He almost didn't notice as a cloud of fog descended upon the land, darkening the night further. The mist grew thicker by the moment, inhibiting his vision as though a cloud had descended to ground level. As annoying as it began to be, it created an interesting atmosphere to distract Lucas from the monotony of the walk as it swirled playfully along the ground and among the rocks and trees.
He made his way to the river and the small, wooden bridge that crossed it. It came within sight soon after the fog began to limit his vision to no more than 20 meters. This walk had become quite ritualistic for him. So much so, that he almost missed the white figure reaching out to him from the trees across the bridge.
Lucas stopped mid-stride, staring across the bridge. The figure dissipated and scattered into the mist.
Lucas stood there a moment, rubbed his eyes, and then laughed at his incredible foolishness. The mist had played a trick on him, that's all. And what a startling trick it was! He continued his journey casually, but the mist had lost its playfulness.
A light snowfall began, scattering snowflakes throughout the air. There were already piles of snow on either side of the path, and the path itself had a light blanket over top that caused Lucas' shoes to crunch loudly with each step. Looking up, a bright, full moon shone in the sky, shaming the stars with their lack of radiance. However, the stars won out as a great cluster of clouds drifted over the moon, smothering its light. Lucas had to squint in order to keep his eyes on the path.
The trees thickened suddenly, shielding many of the stars from view. The mist wafted between them, creating mesmerizing patterns as it drifted. Lucas thought he could see images of various things displayed within the patterns, but, before he could properly identify what they were, they would disappear as the mist altered its course, constantly weaving and changing.
Suddenly, Lucas's foot slipped. He fell to the ground and narrowly avoided tumbling down into the deep river. He paused, his breathing suddenly quickened as the dark water rushed just in front of him and off into the woods. Slowly, he stood up and backed away from the edge, back towards the path. He had gradually meandered off of it while studying the mist, it seemed. A close call, but he shook himself and tried to not let it bother him.
Lucas turned at the next fork he encountered, and the path continued, changing from the wide, well-trodden road to a narrow one that wound among the trees. The night grew colder as he walked. The wind pierced his clothing like a legion of icy needles as the mist chilled the air. Lucas quickened his pace considerably, eager to get out of the cold and back to his fireplace at home. The night sounds seemed to increase dramatically in volume. The rustling of foliage seemed to echo like a cacophony of incoherent whispers.
The wind picked up, bringing more frigid air with it as it whistled through the rocks and trees. At length, Lucas couldn't focus on anything else. The cold shattered his thoughts and distracted his mind from even thoughts of warmth and comfort. So distracted was he, that he almost missed the light tinkling sound that had begun just behind him.
Lucas slowly came to a stop. The sound ceased. Carefully, he looked to either side. Dare he look behind him?
No.
The thought came instinctively. After all, the sound had stopped. Lucas started walking once more.
After a moment, the sound began again. *clink, clink, clink*. Lucas began to walk faster, but then the sound grew louder. Chains. Lucas realized. That's what it sounded like. Chains clinking against the rocks, never but two steps behind him. He quickened his pace further and the chains' clinking increased.
Lucas began to jog. It was cold, and he wanted to get home quickly. The chains drew closer. Lucas ran. It was very cold. Some exercise would warm him up. The chains raged after him, sliding through the dirt and catching on the rocks. Lucas tripped and fell to his hands and knees before spinning around to face his pursuer.
The chains ceased. Before him was the mist, endlessly wafting about the quiet, December night. Lucas reached to his side and felt the coin purse at his belt, which made a light tinkling sound when it moved. He could only sigh heavily as he got to his feet. This would be a very humorous story to tell one day, Lucas thought, as soon as he was home in front of a warm fire. All the same, he could practically see the mist laughing at him and its attempts to stifle its laughs in the whistling of the wind.
Lucas did not consider himself a timid man, but he found it difficult to suppress the feelings that began to creep up on him. He was alone, he assured himself, but the hair on the back of his neck stiffened, mocking his attempts at self-consolation. He started moving again. As long as he kept moving, he would be fine. Everything would be all right when he got home.
The trees thinned, and he emerged onto the carefully cut grass of the local park. It was all that remained between him and safety. Lucas had spent a considerable amount of time in this park and therefore was very familiar with the layout; He knew where each and every bench and all of the trees were located and where all of the best bits of shade and spots to rest or places to just sit and think were, but the ever-increasing fog and snow only served to distort the once familiar setting he now walked through.
The booming hoot of an owl spun him around in time to see a ghostly white figure scatter into the mist, arms outstretched towards him as it disintegrated. A fierce chill jolted through Lucas's body, momentarily paralyzing him before he could react. He turned and ran across the grass, almost tripping with every turn, adrenaline carrying his legs with considerable speed as he jumped the tendrils of mist that glided along the ground to trip him.
Lucas ran faster than he ever had, the beady, unseen eyes in the shadows of the trees driving him on. He could feel his pursuer getting closer, and closer with every moment. Then, he slammed into his front door, fumbling with the knob in a moment of panic before crashing on the hard wood inside. He picked himself up in haste, slammed the door shut, and latched it.
Lucas stood there a moment, listening. The wind blew gently through the leaves of the trees without, and the chirping of insects turned back to a quiet, comforting rhythm. He was safe.
Lucas settled himself in his small bed, and as he did so, his breathing finally began to calm down. How foolish, how paranoid he had become in recent days. He didn't even bother to take his shoes off as he removed his hat and reached for the blankets. His thoughts began to drift once more as he listened to the sounds of the night around him, now quieting and peaceful.
So peaceful, he almost missed the small, wispy tendril creeping through the window.