What Lies Beneath the Fog

》23《

I woke up with a start in the middle of the night. Someone was walking up the stairs, approaching my room. I heard the sound of the creaky step.

"Dad?" I called, my heart pounding in my throat.

No response followed my question, of course. I was home alone. The sound of footsteps in the corridor died out suddenly, and I forced myself to switch on my reading light and get out of bed.

I walked to the door and opened it slowly, my hand trembling on the handle. There was no one. The house was completely quiet and dark, the only light coming from my reading lamp.

Turning around, I walked towards the window. The sound of rain was much stronger now, I could hear it pounding on the cliffs outside. A sudden gust of wind carried a few of its drops with it inside, making them land on my face. The cold raindrops made me realise that my window was open.

The window that I had left closed last night.

I approached it, my curiosity stronger than my fear. For a few moments, the smell of rain was the only thing I noticed. It was beautiful and intoxicating, enhancing a thousand times the usually faint scent of heather flowers. Then, without a surprise, I noticed her, waiting for me. Anne Byron was standing in the rain, the same as always, untouched by the wet drops filling the night air.

She looked directly in my eyes, and I could see my name forming soundlessly on her lips. 'Liam.' She was calling me, and I had to follow her.

I grabbed my jeans from the chair and put them on hastily, then stuffed my phone in the pocket already containing the key. It was three in the morning and really dark outside, but my phone was the only torch I could find at the moment.

I switched on the light in the corridor and descended the stairs, taking them two at the time. Then I opened the front door, putting on my rain jacket at the same time.

Finally, I stepped outside.

The strong rain I had seen through the window turned into a heavy downpour as soon as I walked out of the house. I couldn't see anything clearly through the thick sheets of falling water. Everything around me looked hazy and unfocused.

All, apart from her. The apparition, emanating its own strange light, was walking up the cliff undisturbed by the rain, leading me on, towards the lighthouse.

I felt compelled to follow her, I couldn't stop.

Somehow, despite the tidal wave coming from the sky trying to wash me into the depths of the sea deep underneath and the near complete darkness, I managed to follow her over the bridge.

The White Lady seemed to be gliding in the night in front of me, illuminating my way. She didn't stop by the lighthouse. The ghost moved on, across the sea of heather, which was drowning in the flood coming from above, pausing momentarily by her husband's grave. After a while, she moved on, across the cliff, leaving the stairs leading to the beach behind, reaching a part of the platform where I had not been before.

A wild part, where nobody came regularly, with no visible paths among the heather bushes, which were much taller here than anywhere else on the island. The smell of rain, mixed with the scent of heather, was strong and overpowering, but for a moment, I imagined I could smell another scent in the rain-filled air. A whisper, a ghost of a sweet perfume of roses.

It reminded me of Emma, I was sure that she would love to be here with me now, following the White Lady. I cringed when I thought of what she would say when she found out that she missed this adventure. But this wasn't the right moment to worry about that.

The wild heather bushes on this side of the cliff were difficult to walk on, trapping my feet in their branches, making me trip. I was drenched and cold, but the ghost wouldn't let me go. She wanted to show me something.

But what? I stopped, looking around, trying to guess what I was supposed to understand. She stopped not too far from me, turning to face me. For a fleeting moment, I saw her surrounded by tall, blooming roses, like I had seen her in one of the old photographs. Her hair and dress seemed to be floating around her subtle, fragile figure. I noticed that she resembled Emma, except that her hair was raven black.

Anne opened her mouth and said something, maybe my name again, but I couldn't hear her voice.

Then she was gone. Where an instant ago stood the silent, glowing apparition, now was empty darkness. It took me a while to adjust my eyes to the blackness of the night. Without the faint light emanating from her, the place looked much darker. I took the phone from my pocket, switching on the torch.

Carefully, I walked closer to the spot where she had disappeared, unanswered questions teeming in my mind. Then I lost my footing, and one of my legs fell through the thick net of heather plants. There was a hole in the rock underneath them, ready to swallow me up. I felt a small part of the cliff crumbling around me, tiny stones falling into the black hole, crashing on the ground deep deep down.

Trying hard to rein in my rising panic, I pulled my leg up slowly, holding on to the heather, which looked stronger and safer than the moss-covered rock it was growing on. With difficulty, I dragged myself as far from the hole as I could before collapsing tired and out of breath on the wet bushes, shivering violently from both cold and fear.

Now that the ghost was gone, so was the adrenaline that had kept me going before. I felt exhausted, but I had to get back home. Anne Byron had vanished for now. There was nothing left to do here tonight.

It took me nearly an hour to reach my house. I didn't trust the cliff anymore. There was one treacherous hole I knew about, and there might be many more lying hidden under the heather. When I reached the lighthouse, the rain had already stopped, making it easier for me to cross the slippery bridge.

At home, I shed my wet jacket by the front door and made my way straight upstairs, only remembering to take the wet and muddy shoes off when I jumped at the noise of the creaky step.

I threw myself on the bed, feeling incredibly exhausted, and fell asleep with my wet jeans still on.