Scary Stories, Rituals, and Urban Legends

The Man who Came Out of the Fog

A/N Hey guys if you could check out a book I'm writing that would be amazing. Its called Evry Rose has its Thorns. Enjoy the story.

It's this time of year that fog descends on my city. Like clockwork, every year it envelops the streets for about a month, each evening wrapping around the street lamps and licking its tongue upon the window panes.

Years ago, when I was younger, I used to walk the streets at night with my friends. When the season of mists set in, they always saw it as a nuisance, obscuring their sight lines in their already slightly dazed state. I however, enjoyed walking the blanketed streets; I always thought the haze gave the city a beautiful aspect, its reaching towers and spires disappearing into the night air above us. It made the landscape feel ethereal, almost magical. So naturally, sometimes as the evenings wore on, I found myself walking the streets alone. But I could never really find it within myself to complain of loneliness - I enjoyed my nighttime walks.

It was during one of these walks that I first spotted the figure in the haze. It had the silhouette of a man, dressed in tails, carrying what looked to me like a trumpet horn. He was leaning against the far wall of a local pub, 'The White Lion'. In my slightly inebriated state, I called out to him, "Hey pal, lost your way from the Masque ball?"

As I wandered closer to him, his shape merged back into the fog, so by the time I got to his end of the pub, he was long gone. I laughed to myself in slight embarrassment, and walked on. As I did, I heard someone whistling behind me; I turned around to see who it was, and to my surprise I saw the same figure walking away from me. Before I could even really react, he took his shape and his song and disappeared into the night. I even recognised the tune he was whistling: 'Starless' by King Crimson.

I couldn't really figure out how he got past me without me noticing; the street was narrow enough that I could see from side to side, even without the fog; no-one had passed me. This continued to haunt me for a while, and I relayed it all to my friends a few days later. They all dismissed me, taking great care to explain in great detail how sometimes it's easy to miss small details while drunk, like a side street or a man mostly in black. But I was convinced that the man had no way to pass me without me noticing. We moved onto other regions of conversation - our work lives, Danny's woes on the stock market, Leo's disastrous love life - but I brought up my encounter briefly a few more times that evening, at first amusing my companions and then boring them. As each of them headed home, they made sure to mockingly warn me not to let anyone too suspicious pass me on the street. Finally, I dropped my last drinking buddy, Charlie, on his doorstep. He had the decency not to make another stupid joke, but he did show a slight piece of concern for me just before turning in,

"Rob, do me a favour. Don't go wandering tonight; just go home. OK?"

I dutifully agreed, thinking the advice sensible to be honest. I had no desire to get any more senselessly spooked. Charlie shut the door at last on our conversation, and I turned towards my own home. As I walked down the steps, a man chuckled softly on the far street corner - a man dressed in tails.

It was him, I was sure. I thought he was even carrying that same horn, although it was behind his back so I couldn't be sure. I could even just about make out his face now: clean shaven, with jet black hair. I started toward him.

"Hey mate!" I called. He slowly turned round the street corner, out of my sight. I picked up my pace, not wanting to let him get away; I almost tripped on the pavement, but managed to keep my balance after a few seconds of wobbling, and almost sprinted round the corner. He was nowhere to be seen.

I decided not to mention this second encounter to my friends. I thought it would produce some undue worry in them, frankly. The fog was starting to lift by this time, and so my nighttime walks were scheduled to end. But still, I went out a few times on my own, hunting for the man in tails. I found nothing, and in a few months left it behind, and promptly forgot about it.