Fog Whispers: The Keybearer

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"The mist, that veil between times and the guardians of truths. In its tendrils, past stories dance, of those banished into the depths of darkness. Feared as shadows of truth, they wander the world, stealing the light of knowledge from the truths of reality."

"What a load of shit?" I thought to myself and closed the book again. I tiptoed to the original resting place of the book, which had fallen on my head about two minutes ago, nearly sending me to the hospital. Just what I needed today. As if the day wasn't already crappy enough, I now had a bump on my head.

But nothing seemed to go according to plan today. "Miss Fia, you're not paid to stand around," a slightly sweaty Mr. Clock stood in front of me, giving me one of his stern looks. I watched as a bead of sweat rolled down his bald head and wondered how he could be sweating in this icy weather.

"Sorry, Mr. Clock, it won't happen again," I replied quickly and hurried past him. I grabbed my duster to continue my task as the janitor. I had been enjoying the company of this old geezer for almost three weeks now. If I hadn't been caught by the cops back then, I could be spending my holidays with my friends. Instead, I was condemned to this old bookstore. Okay, maybe I shouldn't have let myself be convinced to steal money something out of my teachers pocket. But truth doesn't matter here anyway.

The old books stared at me from their places on the shelves, as if begging me to touch them. In the end, they were just allies in my miserable situation, trapped between these four walls, with no hope of redemption because who would want to read them?

Even as a child, an eerie aura surrounded the old bookstore. We avoided this place back then and now to. I chuckled; Mr. Clock was probably the proud guardian of books that no one had ever read, the caretaker of stories destined to remain undiscovered forever. Time crept slowly as I wiped the dust off the forgotten book spines. I sighed loudly, and it almost felt like the books were sighing along with me.

Suddenly, a voice next to me spoke, and I startled, "Not many people venture here, but from time to time, this hidden place is discovered by those who appreciate my old stories and seek truth in their own lies." Mr. Clock stood slightly inclined next to me, holding a new stack of books in his bony hands. brabbling nonsense again I thought. Wondering where he conjured up these tomes. He placed his stack on an empty table, and his eyes lost themselves in the distance. Suddenly, he grabbed my arm and pulled me towards him. "You should be careful," he whispered, his voice urgent, "the shadows of truth are not far away. The mist will come and reveal its reality; the damned are already feasting on your truth." Shocked, I pulled my arm out of his grip and stumbled a step back. A shiver ran down my spine. What did he mean? When I looked up again, Mr. Clock was already busy again with the stack of books. He sighed, "I think you can go for today; it makes no sense if you don't work." And there was the Mr. Clock I knew. I grabbed my bag from the back room and was glad to leave the store earlier.

The sun was bidding farewell on the horizon. The evening glow flooded the streets in reddish light, indicating that the days were getting shorter. I pulled my jacket higher, and Mr. Clock's words echoed in my ears. What was he trying to tell me? I felt uneasy; another chill crawled up my spine, and I had to shake myself. Only now did I notice that a light fog began to snake through the narrow alleys of my hometown. It almost felt like the fog was following me. I quickened my pace and entered my street. From a distance, I could already see my house, and damn, remembering that I had forgotten my keys inside this morning. I also don't think my parents would be home because they never were.

I briefly weighed my options and decided to climb through my window - the window I had forgotten to close this morning. Oops. Carefully, I balanced on the narrow awning under my window and reached for the windowsill. A little shove, and I hoisted myself into my room.

I closed the window to keep the thickening fog outside. The peace in my room helped me organize my thoughts. The events of today flashed before my inner eye, and again, a shiver overcame me. I briefly looked out the window and noticed a light in the opposite house. Strange, it had been empty for years.

The ringing of the front door brought me back to reality. I sprinted down the stairs and opened the door. Before me stood a young man, maybe three or four years older than me. His black hair was tied back in a messy ponytail, and a three-day beard adorned his face. Overall, he looked super hot. He gave me a tired smile. "Hey, as I see, you're not a burglar after all, or are you? Should I call the police?" He playfully made a scared face, and I just stared at him until I remembered my little acrobatic show earlier. I lowered my gaze in embarrassment; he had seen everything.

"It's okay, I forgot my key this morning and didn't have many options to get inside." He laughed briefly before extending his hand to me. "I'm Roan. My little brother and I moved into the old house," he pointed to the run-down house at the end of the street, that stood too close to the edge of the forest in my opinion. It surprised me that anyone would voluntarily move in there.

I took his hand, and a cold shiver ran through me, an uneasy feeling settling in my stomach. Was this going to be a new habit now? I suppressed the feeling. "I'm Fia. Nice to meet you," I smiled at him, and he returned it.

"Are your parents not home?" The question threw me off. No one had asked me about my parents for a long time. They were never home anyway. So, I had gotten used to saying they were working overtime. A simple lie I had used or had to use hundreds of times. But somehow, every cell in my body screamed to just yank my hand away from this man and disappear into my own four walls as quickly as possible. I swallowed hard and answered, "My parents are at work. They always come home late," I lied with clenched lips; I wasn't good at lying. My own answer sounded strange in my ears, and a metallic taste filled my mouth. I felt nauseous. "Oh, if that's the case, too bad. I would have liked to meet them," his voice carried a hint of amusement, as if he knew I had just lied to him deliberately. Slowly, he released his grip, and I pulled my hand back.

Only now did I notice how foggy it had become, and I shivered slightly. Roan took a step back, and suddenly, I could breathe better. "Well, I don't want to keep you any longer. Please give your regards to your parents when you see them later." He waved to me once more and disappeared into the thick fog.

 As fast as my feet could carry me, I ran inside the house and closed the door behind me. Why did I feel so drained, as if all my energy had suddenly disappeared from my body? Before I could finish my thoughts, everything went dark around me.