Eternal Mist

Story by Dennis SpielmanStories may not be reposted or published without permission

I stood alone at an unmarked grave during the darkest time of the night. Green vines covered the tombstone and blue flowers grew at the foot. I never had the time to visit this grave, even though I had an eternity. I saw the grave, but I felt no emotion at all. It felt like a shadow of a broken toy that I couldn’t play with anymore. I brushed the vines off on the burial, still no writing on the tombstone.

All I know is that I’m here, drifting somewhere in the vast with time standing more still than a rock. The wind was alive, but I was not. The stars pounded life on the earth, but my heart did not pound life in my body. I did not care since I felt no pain, no guilt, no shame, and no love.

Memories of my life back in 1938 flooded back to me. I did not want to think of the past, but I couldn’t help myself, even though the sun was about to rise from beyond the horizon any moment. October 30, 1938 might have been considered the most fearful night in history. But for me, it was a powerful experience.

I was driving my truck along the country roads. My radio was off so I could focus on the road, but I had already listened to the news broadcast. Resting on the passenger seat my loaded shotgun. I had one extra shell in my pocket to shoot myself if necessary. I would rather die by my own gun then from them. They were here. They were coming after everyone. They were going to kill every last one of us. I will admit I was afraid, but not mad.

“Damn those aliens!” I shouted as made a sharp turn right. “They’re not going to get me!”

My truck went of control because I turned too sharply and way too fast. It flipped over a couple of times, but I was just fine. I grabbed my gun and got out of the automobile. I searched the sky – there were no spaceships – just the moon and stars that danced around. With my gun ready, I entered into the woods for a shortcut to the police station. If anyone could help me escape, they could.

I followed no dirt path, save where ever my feet dragged me. No doubt I now grew very pale with fear from the darkness. I paused for a moment to catch my breath. A stick broke. My heart jumped. Turning around in the direction of the sound, I aimed my gun. I knew I should save one shell for myself, but I was loaded with four so I fired. A beast roared – loud and deep – like a demon dying. Another sound arose, but it was from the trees. But it was nothing more than a mere a raven. I chuckled from relief.

“Nevermore,” the raven squeaked.

The bird spoke to me. Had I gone mad? Was I hearing things? Oh God, what could I do? I knew I wasn’t going mad or hearing things, nevertheless I shot the bird. POW! The stupid raven was dead. The aliens were making a mockery of my horror! I was quite sure of it, but what could I do now? I had no clue, so I just ran out of the woods.

Anything was better then this horror.

Shortly after I escaped from the wicked woodland, I walked along the same road I was at earlier. I ran swiftly along the street, more swiftly than a madman could have performed. I didn’t walk too far down the deserted road when a beautiful woman walked out from the forest and faced me ? eye to eye. I aimed my gun at her, yet I did not fire. It was like she had me hypnotized. The way she looked at me was as if she absorbed me with total love and understanding.

“You’re one of them aliens, ain’t yea?” I shouted at her, ignoring my feelings.

The woman showed neither anger nor fear towards me. Her long, wild brown hair and fancy red dress blew backwards in the wind. She walked closer to me, in a fashion that made her seem as if she floated in air and she kept walking towards me until she stood right in front of me. I couldn’t help but to drop my gun down at the sight of her power.

“I see what you want,” she spoke, voice soft and warm. “You want to never be afraid. You want strength and power. You want to walk into worlds that others can’t imagine.”

“Yes…I mean, no,” I replied, my words stumbling with confusion.

“You want others to fear and respect you.”

“Well, yes,” I confessed.

She smiled sinisterly, then bit into my neck and drank deeply.

For I was cursed with immortal life and the grave I stood by, was mine.

Dennis’ Comments

The idea for Eternal Mist came about pretty strangely. In my English III class (junior year in high school), we had been doing a bunch of Edgar Allan Poe stuff. Well, we had a bunch of assignments to choose from to do. I picked a free write using Poe’s spooky style. How did the War of the Worlds radio broadcast come into play? I had seen a recreation of the broadcast in a high school showing. I had this memory of this story being one of my great stories, but when I went visited it for some editing before posting online on Feb. 20, 2008, I was awaken by that fact that it wasn’t as good as I thought it was. Perhaps I’ll do a total rewrite someday, but for now, enjoy the classic version.