This week’s prompt for Quillshiv’s Flash Fiction Faction prompt is a quotation which to me sounds almost Bronte-esque:
Truly the thing that I fear comes upon me, and what I dread befalls me. –Anonymous
Meant To Be Together
Rachel had watched the fog all morning as it cloaked and then lifted above the top of the mountain. Since the accident, fog evoked such memories, fears and guilt that some foggy days she wouldn’t venture outdoors.
Jake understood. He’d always understood. Coming to stand beside her he flung a comforting arm around her shoulders. He squinted at the cloud undulating across the upper slopes.
“I’ll get down to the village before that thickens. I’ll be back before you know it.”
Rachel watched with apprehension as the truck bounced down the winding mountain road. The odds against the same thing happening twice were a million to one. But the guilt, deeply ingrained within her, wouldn’t allow that consolation to surface.
Ten years or more ago, she’d rung Tom on just such a foggy night to tell him they needed to talk. Something in her voice spooked him, as well it should have, and he’d rushed out to drive over to her place. She’d had second thoughts. Splitting up seemed a drastic step to take she’d said on the phone, maybe they should just postpone the wedding for a while.
Tom crashed his car only a couple of miles from her house; she’d been plagued with guilt and fear since then.
Along came Jake though, and she realised they were meant to be together. She’d been right, it wouldn’t have worked with Tom; he was too possessive, their relationship almost claustrophobic.
She glanced at the clock. Jake should be back shortly. The kitchen grew darker and looking up she realised that the fog had descended the mountain quickly.
“Hurry Jake,” she urged him in her mind. That mountain road was tortuous at the best of times …
She looked at the clock again. The face was obscured with drops of moisture, rendering the hands invisible. A movement caught her eye, and turning she saw a finger of fog infiltrating the narrow gap below the door, as another wisp floated in through a crack in the window.
She backed slowly towards the front of the house, discovering that now the valley had disappeared behind thick grey fog.
Other fingers of fog emerged from beneath the chimney breast, drifting across the floor to join the amorphous shape in the corner by the door. This shape begin to rise, moving faster than she’d have thought possible, spiralling up into a column about six feet high. Tendrils of fog began to emerge either side as the column advanced towards her, finally taking her into its damp, dismal embrace.
The fog cleared suddenly, and Jake hurried back up the mountain road.
As he entered the cottage, there was a scuttling motion, a gentle sighing as a tendril of fog disappeared through the corner of the room.
He searched high and low for Rachel; he’s still searching for her, even today.