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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2183653
Rated: ASR · Short Story · Ghost · #2183653
Fog and something mysterious ruins a date. (From a writing prompt)
*CheckG* NOTE: This is an unedited draft, first attempt at any creative writing. I'm a newbie, but very eager to learn. Any suggestions and critical reviews are greatly appreciated!

Down by the river, it was difficult to see. The fog had rolled in and I was squeezing Bobby's hand in fear. I didn't know if ...

There it was again. Something moved, I swear it. A shadow.

“IS SOMEONE THERE?!”

“Bobby! You scared the crap outta me!”

I don’t know if I hoped for a reply. There was no wind. No sound. Just fog and silence. The worst part was the moon. It wasn’t a full moon. Just enough to cause shadows.

We could barely see the path at our feet. The fog was almost a sickly green color like the marsh had evaporated.

There it was again. I know I saw it this time. What is it? I am so scared right now and Bobby is no help at all.

As we slowly creep forward through the denseness I hear a sound. A rustling. A breath on the leaves. A crunch. Then nothing. We stopped again to listen.

I’m frantically searching all around as Bobby turns his phone light on and off.

“What are you doing? Stop that!”

“But, I can’t see.”

“It’s fog you dummy, the light only makes it worse.”

“There. A bench. Let’s sit there and wait for it to pass.”

“Fine,” I say. We sit on the fog-laden bench as I feel the moisture seep through my jeans.

“I think we’re close to the parking lot. I’m going to see if I can find the truck and turn on the lights. Wait here.”

“Please don’t go, Bobby. We can go together.”

“No, no, it will be easier if I go by myself. I promise I’ll be quick.”

As Bobby takes off without me, I peer around. Squinting to through the thickness, trying to make out any familiar shapes.

I lost him. He was no more than a few steps from the bench and I couldn’t see Bobby anymore.

There. The shadow again. I tense up but it seems it’s getting smaller as if it’s going away from me. Gone. I see nothing but thick green soup air all around me.

“Why is it so quiet?” I ponder.

I’m cold. Wet and cold. Scared, wet and cold. It’s too quiet. Then I hear it.

A scream. I know I heard a scream. It was muffled just like in the movies where the ax murderer puts his hand over your mouth before slitting your throat.

“Stop stop stop stop stop. Do not let these thoughts in your brain.” I can’t help it. I’m so scared. It’s late. I’m tired. Scared, wet, cold and tired.

This is the worst date ever. I’m never going out with Bobby again. What is taking him so long?

I decided to walk in the same direction and see if I can find the truck. He’s just taking too long.

My feet barely leave the ground as I feel my way along the path. Shapes start to form and I realize I’m near the buildings. The lot must be close. I feel the pebbles turn to grass and nearly trip over the edge of the asphalt.

“I made it,” I exclaim, almost scaring myself with the sound of my own voice. I see the shape of the truck. We parked near the edge so we wouldn’t have to walk far. Yes, it’s Bobby’s truck, but where is he?

I try the door and it’s unlocked. “Thank God for that!”

As I slide in, I feel something wet. He must have been here, but why would he leave. I grab the blanket he keeps behind the seats and curl up on the passenger side.

Tap. Tap. Tap. “Miss.” “Miss, wake up.”

I must have fallen asleep waiting for Bobby. The fog is gone. Why is there a cop tapping on the window?

I roll the window down slightly. “Yes? What’s going on.”

“Miss, are you ok? Are you hurt?”

“No, I mean yes. I mean, I’m fine. I think I just fell asleep.”

“Miss, are you sure you’re ok? Did you see or hear anything last night?”

“No, the fog. It was too thick. We couldn’t see anything. It took us forever to find the truck. Why? What happened?”

“Miss, I need you to get out of the truck and come with me. We’ll get you home safely.”

As I open the door and begin to step out, I feel the office grab my shoulders sternly, almost slamming me into the barely open door.

“Miss, I want you to look at me. Look at my face. Only look at me. We’ll get you home. Don’t you worry. Just keep your eyes on me.”

“Where’s my boyfriend? What’s going on?”

I turn my head slightly to the right, letting my eyes finish the distance. A hand. Bobby’s hand. Sticking up from the back of the truck. I pull away and run to the truck as the office rips my sleeve trying to stop me.

I peer into the bed of the truck. Breathe. Silence. Breathe. I scream.
© Copyright 2019 William Stafford (wstafford at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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