The Fog

The doctors called it shock; they said I had imagined the last moments of my family's lives. But I didn't. I didn't imagine it when the man walked out of the fog. I didn't imagine it when my Dad stopped the car to avoid hitting the man, nor when the man walked up to the car, grabbed it and pushed it off the bridge, leaving me, who had leaped out of the car just in time, the sole survivor of the crash.

There was no proof that the man existed or of how my family died, but I stood by my story, even through my Aunt's and Uncle's screaming matches, through the doctors telling them that I might need to be 'put away'. That's what happened in the end. I got locked up, they thought I was mad. They put me in one of those padded cells that you so much about in stories but yet never really think exist. And do you know what the funny thing was, when I was in there, locked up; I learnt a valuable lesson about friendship.

You see, when my family was alive I didn't really have friends, that was ok with me I had my twin, Kati, plus I was a complete bookworm, but in the silence of my cell, in the moments when I was by myself, I dearly wanted a friend.

The opportunity to make one arose one day, about a week after I was locked up. The staff usually took the quieter residents out for exercise everyday. When they first came to collect me, my reply to…

'Come on sweetie, we're going to do some funny-wunny sporty-ort.'

Was… 'I'm bored. Not crazy, not stupid, bored!'

From then on I was known as the 'rude one'. But during one of these sessions I was paired with a girl called Faith. She told me why she had been locked in this nuthouse.

'This one night I couldn't get to sleep and so my dad gave me what he told me were sleeping pills but that night instead of being asleep, I was under the influence of the drugs, I didn't mean to do it.'

'What did you do?' I asked.

'I killed my mother.' She said in barely more than a whisper.

'And you father?'

'He disappeared into the night. Both the judge and the jury thought I was insane and they sent me to this asylum.' She managed to reply, tears streaming down her face.

I then told her my story, about the man, why my dad stop the car causing my seatbelt to choke me, about when I undid my seatbelt and leaped out the back window as the man pushed the car off the bridge. The man didn't see me as he watched my family die, as he heard their screams. All four of my siblings died that day.

We talked all the time, our cells were next to each other and using the pocket-knife I smuggled in using my sock I cut a hole, big enough for me to crawl through, in the wall, covering the hole when the staff came to my cell. The walls, to keep costs down, were made from plastic, so they were easy to cut through.

Slowly, over many months, we made knives using the metal forks and spoons that we took from the dining hall and eventually cut a hole in the outside wall of Faith's cell. So, in the middle of the night, Faith and I broke out.

'Wow! The world is so much greener than I remember it. What do you think?' Faith asked me.

'It's exactly the same' I replied after taking a good, long look at the world around me.

'I don't know, I think it's different.' Faith replied, still staring in awe at the world.

For a couple of weeks Faith and I searched for news of what had happened in the world while we were locked up, looking in bins and on the streets. All we found was…

'The Fog Exists!'

'What is it?'

'The Fog Exists. Alfred Jones, from Kettle Hill has spoken up about the very public removal of a fourteen-year-old girl, whose name hasn't been disclosed to the media yet, to Sunflower Pl Mental Institution. The girl, who claims to have jumped out the back window of her families seven-seater just before it was driven off a bridge, which, as many scientists have proved, at the speed the car was travelling at the time of the crash, it would have been physically impossible, making police and psychologists suspect that she is both a murderer and insane. More on pg 10.' I turned to page ten and Faith and I read it as fast as we could.

'That's horrible. How could they write such things about you?'

'Very easily, I expect.' I said, anger and hurt thick in my voice. But if this man was truly a survivor like me then maybe, just maybe he could help us.

We travelled for weeks, the fog growing ever closer. When it killed it would always leave one survivor, one child, getting younger each time, and if our theory was correct, the man was growing weaker. We met some of the children. Their stories were as unbelievable as mine. A speedboat capsized, a light plane crash, a bus tipped. Always a form of transport involved. We finally reached Kettle Hill. Faith and I enquired about this Alfred Jones. Many people laughed at us. However, a kindly old woman pointed us in the direction of Alfred Jones' house.

'The closest property to the airport' She said.

So we walked and walked. It turned out Kettle Hill was a pretty big place, for a hill. About half an hour later we reached his cottage. We knocked on the door. A minute of waiting followed. Slowly, the door creaked open and the face of an old man peered out.

'If yer here to sell those damn cookies, get lost.' This shocked us both but I stood my ground.

'I know that you don't know who I am Mr Jones, but I know who you are and I also know about the fog.'

'We shouldn't talk about such things here, in, in. And you?' He asked Faith.

'She's with me.'

After he ushered Faith in, Alfred turned around and shut the door. I repeated my story, like I did for Faith, like I did for the police, Alfred, like Faith and unlike the police, understood.

'Same thing happened to me. The man walked out of the fog, I stopped the car and I was starting to get out of the car when the man pushed the car off the bridge, I jumped out of the car onto some greenery, broke my leg and I couldn't walk. But that didn't matter, I was 22, I was young and my leg would heal. But my wife and two-year-old daughter wouldn't. The next time I saw them was to identify their bodies…' He broke off; obviously the story was too painful to carry on telling us. We sat in silence for a few minutes; taking small sips from the tea Alfred brought us. I turned to look out the window. That was when I saw it. That was when I uttered the two words.

'Oh no.' I'll give you three goes to guess who decided to join the party.

'Stay here' Alfred instructed us as he walked out of the house, but as soon as he left Faith and I stood up and followed him.

I pulled open the front door just as the man emerged from the fog. As he walked over to a jumbo jet full parked on the runway just over the fence, I swear I heard Faith whisper,

'Father?' As he reached out to touch the jet Faith called out.

'Father is that you?' This caught the man's attention and he started to move towards us. Faith walked right up to him and into the fog. I couldn't see or hear her.

When the fog disappeared I ran to Faith, who was lying on the ground. I checked for a pulse. There wasn't one. The police had to pull me away from her body, I didn't want them to have her, I no longer trusted them.

Because of what witnesses told the police I wasn't locked up again. But the fog had taken everything I cared for away from me and I was never truly happy again.

Now I am but a spirit, my dusk is upon me, Faith is calling and I must join her in the Neverworld. My name is Hope Summers and I bid you goodnight.