Out Of The Fog

Out of the fog

A/N: So this is my first story, it's not that long more of trial to see how people enjoy my writing. If you enjoyed it please send feedback. If anyone would like to edit this or use any of it in their own work just message me. If you have any ideas for new stories or comments on this one it will all be heard. I will respond to everyone. Thank you so much.

-AuthorUnkn0wn

   A week at the cottage, that's all this was. John had been finding himself slipping into a pattern. He woke up, went to work then came home worked and went to bed, he knew men who were depressed because of the rudimentary cycle of life. Men who went home miserable and drank their nights away...alone.

He left work Friday feeling anxious about his trip. his stomach turning with anticipation. He passively shrugged it off; noticing the change in his daily life.

    

He felt the cool crisp air on his face as he awoke Saturday, goosebumps
prickling his skin. He had taken the week off to relax.  He threw the last bag in his car and climbed in, the engine roared to life and purred as he pulled away.

It would take him four hours to drive there.  The road was empty which was odd for a Saturday.  

  

The fog hadn't cleared by the time he arrived, tendrils of it kissed the surface of the lake, creating a wispy like surface. He unpacked everything into the cottage and sat down. The strong smell of old wood attacking his nose. He was renting this cabin for a rather cheap price. To him it was all the better inexpensive and the view was like nothing else, the lake stretched for miles before him, rays of sunlight hitting the surface and bouncing up everywhere.

   

He decided he'd try to catch fish for dinner, fishing was one of his favorites, he remembered always fishing with his father during his childhood.. He stood out on the rickety old pier casting his line out into the calm waters..

   

He'd never seen such a calm lake, the surface was smooth as a pane of glass reflecting the overcast skies.  After a couple hours he hadn't even felt a nibble. Though he found himself relaxed it was nice he thought.

"You need to leave this place now." Turning around John was shocked to see a man at the other end of the rickety pier.

"What did you say?" He asked, taking a quick glance behind him. he did not understand where the man was from. There were no other cottages he could see, the road had been empty until he'd arrived here.

 "There is a native American burial ground under the lake's surface, you must leave here anyone who stays here is doomed to never leave. You've been warned." Suddenly his vision grew dark, black spots filling his vision. His eyes grew heavy as he fell to the ground, blacking out.

   He awoke inside the cottage sprawled on the couch. His heart was racing a million miles an hour, yet he told himself it was all just a dream. He found a small part of himself doubting if it had been a dream, although he knew that he was the only cottage on this side of the lake.

  

He didn't completely forget about the dream,  though he wouldn't let it ruin his vacation. Cursing he realized he'd forgotten his beer at home. He got into his car and began driving toward the nearest grocery store.

  

He pulled up to the old store and walked in. There was an old man standing behind the register. Quietly he walked to the back of the store. He found a case of beer and picked up some bait for fishing.