Fog picture

The fog rolled in like a malevolent invader, unstoppable, touching and enveloping everything in its path with a damp embrace. I shivered, and closed the window.

"It's coming in. Won't be long now," I said.

Sheila nodded but did not look up from her book. The mantelpiece clock ticked obtrusively in the silence.

"Well, are are you ready?" I continued.

She sighed, and looked up. "Damien, I have been ready for weeks."

"I can't wait any more," I pouted. "It's not fair."

"Who said it was supposed to be fair? Be patient." she replied.

I did not answer. She always had been the solid, practical one, while I, the emotional rollercoster, bounced from joyous heights to frail depths and back. They were coming and I could not bear the waiting any longer. I returned to the window and watched the fog approach, first covering the beach, then the dunes, then the front gate, and finally the garden.

I waited.

Then the lights went out, and the door opened slowly. An eerie, flickering light approached.

"Haaappppyy Biiiiirthday toooo youuuuu...."