The Fog of Fog

The following is a fictionalized account of a partially true story with stuff added to make it silly.  Reader discretion is probably unnecessary.  

The fog hung thick like a blanket over the landscape.  He could barely make out the tail lights of the vehicle in front of him, let alone the road signs he needed to watch for.  He was in unfamiliar territory.  He had been to that park before, but only for a couple of events in the summer, and he never drove.

Sure enough, he missed the turn he was supposed to take, but ended up finding a road that led him back to it before he was stuck driving around the lake for miles.  Despite the fog, and his unfamiliarity with the area, he still managed to be early.  He tried to recall a time when he’d ever been late, and realized that it was extremely rare and only in the cases of accidents when the road he was on was closed.  He began to think that maybe he didn’t always need to plan for the worst-case scenario.

He was meeting up with a friend for a morning walk.  He waited by the conservatory and snapped a few pictures attempting to show the eerie feel of the park wrapped in the fog.  He was disappointed that the lens on his camera phone was advanced enough to cut through most of it, making it seem a lot thinner than it actually was.

Despite the eerie look, he actually loved the fog.  Or maybe because of it.  He was a little chilly, but not too cold.  His nose was running with the cold air though, and that was bugging him.  Still he found himself in a pretty good mood.  He snapped a picture of a statue wondering why there was a statue of him there, and looked around for a minute.

His friend came walking up the path.  They walked along the different paths of the park and talked.  The conversation was pleasant, and flowed rather easily.  The fog lifted a little, until they neared the observation tower.

The observation tower was a brick circular building with wrought iron bars over the glassless windows at the top.  The fog was at its thickest, and you could barely make out the moss covered path leading to the the door.

They decided to go up to see if the top was above the fog and they could get some good views of the surrounding area.  As they began to turn up the path, they heard the screams.

They looked at each other in horror as they realized that someone at the top of the tower was in trouble.  His knee was already a little sore from the walking and the inclines and declines of the path, but somebody up there was screaming, and he was going to help.  She was right behind him as they charged into the tower and moved as fast as they could up the wet, metal, spiral staircase.

When they reached the top, they looked around to see who needed help.  Everyone appeared to be fine.  They heard the scream again.

It was just some dumb little twit excited because she was getting good pictures of the Space Needle.



Author: Josh Wrenn

Cancer survivor, wanna-be artist, musician, author, and all around good guy.

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