The Genius of the Fog
by Roan Clay

     The boy called softly, to see if anything would call back. His voice did not penetrate the fog at all.
     The fog turned the familiar trees into strangers, dark-hooded and cloaked. It glowed yellow, as though backlit, but there was no light source. It lit the darkness by itself, like the inside of an electric bulb.
     He belonged to this place, this silence. All alone, Bill walked into the fog.

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