The innumerable dead swarm within the fog; grey within grey. Swirling tentacles of intangible loneliness and loss lick at the warmth and life that radiates from the home only to evaporate unsatisfied. A besieging army of ancient resentment. The dead loiter at the boundaries, hungering for a word or a touch that can never come.
From inside; a wail, a cry of grief freshly discovered. Movement ceases amongst the restless; a memory of breath held in anticipation. A newcomer joins them in terror; howling a soundless scream that gives no release.
The fog retreats; they retreat with it.
Word Count: 100 words
Genre: Dark Fiction
Hi folks – a cheery one for this week. Always happy to get Constructive Criticism so let me know what you think!
Thanks to Rochelle twice this week – as always for hosting and again for this time for the photo too.
Remember to check out the other stories too!