Out of the Fog




Looking out onto the cold lifeless winter woods,
Remembering when the cool breeze of fall changed their colored hoods,
From bright summers green, to the brilliant colors of a dark rainbow.
Oh, how these colors filled me with joy, watching as the wind would blow.
First only one would dare let go from branches that held it so tight;
Then more leaves start too fall, swirling and dancing;
What wondrous memories come from such a simple thing?

When out of the rare December’s fog my precious thoughts were disrupted, as a messenger breaks through calling.
Calling too me as it glides over my head; calling too me with every flap of its black wings.
What message could this ominous bird bring?
Perching itself on a leafless branch, water from the early morning rain drips, falling and splashing upon cold winters ground.
Turning its head I begin wondering, grand and majestic bird, are you confused; surely you should be in the hollow of your tree?
Stretching his wings, but not taking flight, what would one give to be that free; to be able to come and go?
Imagine all the places I could see.

Again he calls to me, bringing me back from thoughts delight.
“Why on this fog ridden Decembers day do you tease me; filling me with dreams I cannot obtain, only to pull me back to realities light?”
Proudly the owl sits perched upon his branch, our eyes lock and I begin to tremble with fear.

Never before had I prayed for the sun, “Oh, please let your light come crashing through this cold dark fog, sending this bird back to its cold dark hollow; never to allow it to haunt my thoughts again.”
It was in that moment it called again to me before it flew away, it was in this second I heard what its message was. “RUN!”


I stood there thinking why this bird would tell me to run.
None the less why had I been able to understand a creature other than man, woman, or child.
Turning I look at my watch, “Damn look at the time I am now running late. The morning is all but spent, and I have errands too run that cannot wait.”
A large shadowy object comes moving towards me.
In my mind I hear the owl yell out on last time, “RUN!”



Frozen I stare as this figure neither creature or man comes creeping, fading in and out of the fog laden woods; closer it comes.
Turning I start to run, slipping on the wet grass I slide down the small hill leading to the woods.
The fog and my pursuer creep in closer and closer.
Struggling up the hill panic sets in, as this ghastly aberration comes; the fog closes in around me.
What seemed to be a hand reaches through the fog, its fingers stretching out; reaching for me.
If I can just make it to my home I will be safe from this man or demon.
The closer I get the faster I run; I try to find a logical reason, why this seemingly ominous demon has come to lay claim to me.
Why has this thing, this beast or this demon has hell spat out, has come calling to me as if it steeped out of the lost chapters of forgotten lore?

With my hand I reach out gripping the handle, flinging open my front door and then slamming it shut.
“I will not grant you entrance to my home ghastly specter of long lost lore.”
Yet to no avail the fog engulfs my stout and mighty wooden home.
The boards and beams begin to rattle and shake; I yell out, “Fearful creature what sin must I now atone? What wrongs did I bring upon someone to justify your coming for me on this day?”
I hear its nails scraping my windows panes.
Turning and looking I see no specter, nothing; just the dead calm of this unholy fog.
From behind these wooden walls, bold my spirit has become; no longer do I feel like some cheap caged dog, begging for his master’s approval.
“Leave me vial and faceless creature of ancient your. I shall no longer cater to you any longer.”
All goes quiet, everything stops shaking.
Foolishly I laughed.
Then without warning came a blood chilling scream, and something slamming against the door.
“NO MORE, NO MORE! I can take no more.”
“Why have you come haunting me, filling me withy unknown fears and terrors never felt before?”
“Ancient beast of old, creature of hells forgotten times, please I beg of you leave me be.”
It is all around me I can smell its fowl scent.
“Retched beast, why do you persist in giving me no rest, giving me no piece of mind and body?”
Day and night have blended together causing everything to take on a grayish hue.
No longer can I see my ancient prison keeper; oh god how can this be true.


Out of the corner of my eye I catch a glimpse from a lone candle light. I see that saintly bird; that winged angel that tried to warn me of this impending doom.
Remembering its words, I ran to the top of my stairs locking myself in my work room.
For hours one thought crept into my weakened mine, and has loomed.
No way in, now way out; all hope is lost.
Trapped in what was once warm and safe; now will be my cold damp tomb.
This one thought replays in between the banging.
What poor fool did it catch outside my door; what horrors were visited unto them?
How does this old and wise animal play into this nightmarish dream?
The banging has been replaced with high pitched screeching.
The pain it causes is almost maddening.
I begin to loose control; yes this is just a bad dream.
All I have to do is wake up from this hellish dream sent from Satin himself.
Looking around I notice the letter opener on my desk, quickly I grab it and plunge it into my arm.  
My screams drown out my unholy friends cry.

Now I sit here writing down the events of my last day on earth.
“How will they find my body; will they ever find me? Surely a good man of my worth, they will look for me.”
I will not give this abomination of days of old the pleasure of taking freely.
“COME BEAST OR DEMON, COME AND CLAIM YOUR PRIZE, BUT KNOW THIS GHASTLY CREATURE YOU WILL FEEL MY STING BEFORE YOU SPILL MY BLOOD!!!!”
Nothing happened; it is a coward only stalking and striking from the shadows and cover of fog.
A new found courage floods over me.
Yes I will wait out this demon; the morning sun will push this cowardly dog back to the hells it was born.
From my thoughts I am torn by the ringing of chimes; one, two, three, and four.
Yes it is four o’clock in the early morn.
As I write my encounters of this day and night; it will be my keep sake.
Oh, the new lore’s they will write.

A branch taps on my window from the nightly wind.
The noise startles me; turning I see there is the owl quietly staring at me.
“What is it my friend; I must implore your gratitude for warning me of what most certainly would have been my demise from that malicious demon that waits outside my home.  If ever the sun does come please return at night, for you can consider this your new home.”
Flapping its wings the owl calls out one last time “Die”


As you look around the fog crept into your home and into your room; you tremble and begin to cry.
Turning you look as the cold damp mist causes your candles to fade, a scream from the dark is grabbled, “NNNOOOoooooo……….”
And all now know your fate, but how you died no one knows.
For no body was found on that cold morning light.