The fog rolled in slowly, like a heavy blanket, spreading across the plains. At first, it seemed like nothing. The kind of fog you get after a hot day, a thing you could walk through without much thought. But this wasn't like that. This fog never burned off, never lifted. The air turned stale, thick, as if it was suffocating the world around it.
The first few days were strange. People noticed it, sure. They talked about it. But it was still just a curiosity at first. Maybe a weird weather pattern, maybe something out of the ordinary, but not enough to stop life. The fog just hung there, dense and oppressive, suffocating in its silence.
Then, on the third night, it was worse. The streets started to empty out. People weren't going to work or school. They weren't answering phones. The shops stood still, frozen in time. No one was there to open them. No one to restock the shelves. The normal sounds of a city died out. The silence, thick and unbearable, crept into every corner.
At first, people thought maybe it was just an isolated thing. But then the news started to report more. It wasn't just the big cities. It wasn't just one state. It spread like wildfire. Whole towns were gone, their people just gone. No bodies. No sign of anything at all.
Police found the same thing everywhere they went. Empty homes, empty streets. And in the midst of it, the fog. There, like a veil that refused to lift.
By the time it reached the small town of Oakridge, there was no warning. The fog had already crossed the country, taking out half of everything. The townspeople couldn't remember the last time they'd seen someone else on the street. Not a single car passed by in the afternoon. No deliveries came in. No lights flickered on at night. They tried to call the outside world, but there was nothing. No phones. No radios. No internet. Just the fog.
One man, Charlie, thought maybe he could outrun it. Maybe there was some way to break through it, like it was just another weather phenomenon. He packed his bags and headed out, driving east as far as he could. But it wasn't enough. After hours of driving, the fog closed in on him, thickening, like it was pulling him in. He could feel it now, heavy on his skin, like something that wasn't natural, something that wasn't supposed to be.
By the time he reached the edge of the town, he couldn't see the road in front of him. His car stalled. He couldn't hear the engine turn over, nothing but the muffled sound of the fog creeping in, surrounding him.
And then, he was gone.
Charlie was never heard from again. The few people still left in Oakridge talked about it, but they didn't talk about it much. What could you say? The world outside didn't exist anymore. Nothing did. Nothing could. All that was left was this. This fog.
Jenna didn't know what was worse—the silence, or the feeling that something was waiting. She sat in her small apartment, staring out the window, wondering what had happened to her neighbors. Her mother was gone. Her father had disappeared a week before. She hadn't seen a single soul since then. Only the fog, rolling in. The sound of the world pressing in on her, tighter and tighter.
But she wasn't going to sit and wait to disappear. Not like the others. No. She had made up her mind. She was going to find out what this fog was, where it came from, and why it was taking people. Maybe, just maybe, she could find some way to stop it. She packed a bag and grabbed what she thought she might need. A flashlight. Water. Her phone, though she doubted it would work. And then she left.
The town was even quieter than usual. The fog had swallowed it up, leaving only the quiet hum of the world being erased. Jenna walked down the center of the road, the mist curling around her legs, the dampness of it seeping into her shoes. She tried not to look to the side, tried not to think of the homes she passed—homes that once held families, now empty. Every door was shut tight, and every window was dark. Nothing moved.
Her steps echoed, loud in the stillness. She almost thought she could hear whispers, faint and distant. But every time she stopped and listened, the sound would stop, too. She reached the edge of town, where the road forked. A small sign read "Exit 14." She didn't know what she was expecting, but this felt wrong. The fog stretched in both directions. There was no escape.
And then she saw it. A shape ahead. A man, maybe? She stepped forward, heart pounding. Her breath came faster now, her eyes straining against the thick wall of fog. The figure didn't move.
Jenna called out. Her voice cracked in the emptiness. "Hello?"
No answer. She could see him now. Or, she thought she could. He was tall, his body hunched over like he was hiding something. She stepped closer, the dampness soaking through her jacket.
Suddenly, the man straightened up. His face, when he turned to look at her, was not a face at all. It was smooth, gray, like clay that had been left to dry in the sun. No eyes. No nose. No mouth. Just… smooth. Featureless.
She stepped back, but her legs refused to move, as if the fog itself had paralyzed her. The thing reached out with long, bony fingers, its body jerking in an unnatural, twitching motion. Its hand closed around her wrist, cold like ice, and the grip tightened.
Jenna screamed. Her body shook. She tugged at her arm, trying to pull away, but the thing wouldn't let go. Her mind raced, but no thoughts came, only panic.
And then, just like that, the grip loosened. The thing faded back into the fog, vanishing without a sound. For a moment, she stood there, panting, trying to collect herself.
It was gone. But she couldn't move. She couldn't understand why. She looked down at her wrist, where the thing had touched her. No mark. No sign it had even been there.
It was then that she realized something else. The fog—it wasn't just here. It was inside her, now. Something had changed. She could feel it in her chest, the pressure that had been growing.
And then it hit her. She wasn't going to make it. She wasn't going to find an answer. It didn't matter how far she went. The fog was already inside of her.
She collapsed to her knees, gasping for breath, but it didn't help. The fog pressed in tighter, suffocating her from the inside. She couldn't breathe. It was in her lungs, her throat, choking her, taking her over.
It wasn't just a matter of dying. It was being lost. Like she had already been taken. Like she had already disappeared, and no one would ever remember her.
As the mist closed in, Jenna's last thought was that she could hear the whispers again, clearer now. And she realized, too late, that the thing she had been trying to outrun wasn't the fog.
It was herself.