Chapter 3: The Figures in the Fog
The whispers grew louder.
Soft, disjointed voices layered over one another, speaking in a language I didn't recognize. Some were sharp, almost desperate. Others were slow and drawn out, like echoes from another time. The fog thickened around us, swallowing the distant buildings and leaving only the dim glow of flickering streetlights.
Mark adjusted his camera. "We need to move." His voice was steady, but I could see the tension in his grip.
Sophie clutched her flashlight, sweeping the beam over the empty road. "Where?" she asked. "We don't even know where we are."
She was right. The city was massive, its streets stretching endlessly into the haze. There were no signs, no landmarks—only the looming structures, broken windows, and eerie silence between the whispers.
Then, from the corner of my eye, I saw movement.
A figure. No, figures.
Silhouettes shifted within the fog, just beyond the reach of the streetlights. They were motionless at first, as if watching us. Then, without warning, they moved.
Fast.
"Run!" I shouted.
We bolted down the street, our footsteps slamming against the pavement. The figures didn't make a sound, but I could feel them closing in, the air growing colder with each passing second.
We turned a corner, darting into an alleyway between two crumbling buildings. Mark tripped but caught himself, his camera swinging wildly in his hands. Sophie gasped, pressing her back against the brick wall.
I peeked around the corner.
The figures had stopped at the alley entrance.
There were three of them—tall, thin, their forms shifting like smoke. Their faces were obscured, just empty voids where eyes should be.
One of them raised an arm and pointed directly at us.
My breath caught in my throat.
"What the hell are they?" Mark whispered.
I had no answer. But one thing was clear—these things weren't just watching us.
They were waiting.
To be continued…