In the spirit of Halloween, here is part two in my effort to create a scary short story. Check back for further installments.
When I first learned to drive, traveling through these fog patches was always a thrill. Especially when it was dark. These roads are usually less used, so when I was the only car on the road, I’d turn on my brights to make the fog more visible. My eyes would eagerly search for figures in the fog–the ghosts of Indians, colonists, revolutionary soldiers, slaves, confederate soldiers–any of the legendary spirits of South Carolina.
In my college years, I moved away from the south and forgot all about those early morning/early evening fog patches. Driving through Philadelphia, I never felt as close to the land as driving through the coastal plain of South Carolina. The buildings, signs, and people all kept you clearly attached to the current place and time. There were some parts of the city that had the same ethereal atmosphere, but it was never as spooky as those foggy areas on those long highway drives. Drives where you don’t encounter cars, houses, or any evidence of human occupation for miles at a time, and you can imagine yourself drifting backward through time and the seemingly immortal Carolina landscape.
I moved back down South 10 years later. Some say for family, some say for better career opportunities; I say for both, and I’m still not sure why I came home. Who knows. But I had almost forgotten those vaporous patches of fog you encounter while driving on a lonely morning or evening–until I drove through one and saw the faces…