Guardians of the Fog - a mini Choose Your Own Adventure

Section 2

"Wait!" you shout, sprinting after him as he fades from view. So many questions race through your mind. Who is that man? Where did he come from? Is he you? How is this possible?

As you rush toward the figure, the light glows brighter. The droplets of mist glisten as they drift through the air, sending illusions dancing through the fog. Dreams long forgotten. Memories of the future. Shadows of reality.

Suddenly, you see the man's silhouette illuminated against the now glaring light, a kaleidoscope of color swirling through the grey sky.

"Hey!" you shout, but your double doesn't seem to hear you. You reach forward to grasp his raincoat, but he turns at the last second, eyes wide with horror.

"Don't!" he screams, but it's too late. You stumble forward and your hand connects with his shoulder.

A sudden burst of energy surges through your body, the spark running up your arm from your fingertips through your torso and your legs and your heart and your head. The unknown power encompasses your entire being, and you feel like your very soul is being ripped apart.

You let out a scream as the fog seeps under your skin, thousands of tiny droplets crawling through your body, stabbing at your insides.

Then, for a moment, you are everywhere. You can feel everything, see everything. The city of London rests in your grasp. But not just London―You can feel Lancaster too. And Belfast and Liverpool and Glasgow and Newcastle and Manchester and many, many other places. It seems as if you are spread over the whole world. As if you are the fog.

The overwhelming sensation ends as quickly as it started. Opening your eyes, you discover that the foggy streets of London are gone. Instead, you find yourself sprawled on a soft blanket of misty whiteness, as if you were inside a cloud. You look around in amazement. The cloudiness seems to go on forever, but you catch the occasional glimpse of color as it zooms by.

"Good grace, Elmer! Now look what you've done! You've created a paradox!"

You whip around to find a man gazing at you with dismay. His electric blue eyes stare down at you and his thin lips are curled into a deep frown. Light blond hair hangs limply down past his ears, and a trimmed beard lines his square jaw. He is dressed in a medieval-style tunic and leggings, a sword strapped to his belt.

"Wh-who are you?" you quaver. "Where am I? How do you know my name?"

His face softens and he offers his hand. You take it and rise to your feet. "The name's Jarvis. And you're in The Fog."

"Clearly. How do you know my name?"

"Time...gets all jumbled in here," he explains, "For me, this has already happened. The man you met out there, he was you. From your future. Trying to escape The Fog. But you see, you―he―created a paradox. You never would have ended up here if you hadn't tried to leave."

"I don't understand. What happened to him? Er, me?"

"Who can say," Jarvis shrugs. "Dead, I presume. No one can leave. The Fog makes sure of that."

"What?" you sputter in horror. "You mean I have to stay here? But I have a wife at home! And a child! And a job! I can't stay here!"

"Eh, it's not so bad here. You'll get used to it," he comforts.

"How long have you been in here anyhow?"

"That depends on what year it is," he says, shrugging again.

"2013."

Jarvis whistled. "I came here during the 15th century. So, around five hundred years."

"How are you still alive?" you exclaim.

"The fog keeps us alive. Here, our bodies are in a sort of...conscious stasis. All of our internal functions are frozen, but we can still think and move."

"So...you don't need to eat?" you ask, "Or sleep? Don't you get bored? And lonely?"

"It's not so bad. Watching the memories is kind of fun."

"Memories?"

"Watch," he says, stepping to the side where a splash of green is zooming through the mist. Reaching out, he grabs it and twists, somehow wrangling the light. It goes limp, like a fish done struggling against a fisherman. Then Jarvis spreads his arms, and the green light swells. Larger and larger until it fills the space, the size of a cinema screen.

Then the images start playing. A kilted hunting party sneaks through a misty forest. A stag munches on tall grass. A twig snaps and the stag takes off. One of the kilted men races after it with a battleaxe. A deep fog arises and the man loses sight of his quarry. He wanders through the fog, searching for his friends until he passes out among the bushes.

The scene fades and the light shrinks down and continues on its way. You watch after it, dumbfounded.

"You see," says Jarvis, snapping you out of your thoughts. "We, here, are the Guardians of Time. We watch the world, scanning it through our mists. Keeping reality in check."

You hesitate, taking that in. You start to say something, then change it at the last minute. "We? Are there other people here?"

"Oh sure. Lots. Follow me," he says, beginning across the foggy expanse.

You oblige, glancing around suspiciously. "Why?" you ask. "Why us? Why me?"

"Like I said before, The Fog keeps reality in check. Takes away...abnormalities."

"Abnormalities?" you echo.

"Those of us who...who would advance human society too much," he clarifies. "Those with power unknown to mankind."

"But...I don't have any powers. I'm just a normal guy. A...a nobody," you falter. "And if those who 'advance society too much' end up here, where are Albert Einstein and Nikola Tesla?"

"You misunderstand. From what I've seen and heard, those men were just scientists. They advanced society through perfectly logical means. Those who end up in The Fog have magic. That's why they come here. Magic must be kept from humans. It would cause catastrophe."

You are about to ask "why" when something catches your eye. "Is that an aeroplane?" you ask, staring at the the red propellered vehicle in front of you.

"It sure is," a woman with short, red hair says, coming around the front of the plane. She smiles at you and offers her hand. "The name's Amelia. Amelia Earhart."

"Amelia Earhart?" you gasp.

"Ah, so you've heard of me."

"Everyone has," you tell her, "People are still looking."

"Well, looks like you've found me."

"Amelia was the last person to arrive in The Fog," Jarvis interjects.

"I sure was," she affirms. "Want me to show you how to wrangle memories?" without waiting for a reply, she steps out and grabs a pink streak of light, wrestling it just as Jarvis had done.

You watch as the memory plays out, then shrinks and fades.

"Now it's your turn," Amelia says, gesturing to the colored light swirling throughout The Fog.

You hesitate, then reach for an orange spark. You try grabbing it tight and twisting just as Jarvis and Amelia had done, but the light tickles your skin and slips out of your grasp.

You don't know how long you spend trying to tackle the memories. It could be minutes. It could be days, or even years. It feels like forever before you finally succeed. Throwing a yellow glow into the air, you watch the story of a ship lost at sea unfold before you. And after that, many more memories, from all over the world, through all time. Even the future plays in your view.

Eventually, you come to a familiar scene. A man carrying a briefcase walks down the abandoned streets of London, tousled brown hair hanging across his forehead above curious grey eyes. Gasping, you reach out, mesmerized.

"Don't do it, Elmer!" Jarvis shouts from somewhere near you. "It won't work. No one escapes The Fog!"

CHOICE 1: LISTEN TO JARVIS AND LET THE MEMORY FADE. GO TO SECTION 5.

CHOICE 2: TRY TO GO THROUGH THE MEMORY. GO TO SECTION 4.