The Fog Knows

"You can lock the doors and close the windows, but the mist always finds a way inside. It's not the house it's after—it's you."

— Graven Town Folklore

Ellie couldn't shake the feeling that the house was watching her. Every creak, every groan of the old wood seemed deliberate, like whispers in a language she couldn't understand. After locking the window and triple-checking the front door, she sat at the kitchen table, staring at the words scratched into the counter: More will come.

She traced the letters with her fingers, their jagged edges biting into her skin. Who had done this? It couldn't have been Joey—he'd been asleep. And as much as she wanted to believe it was just some prank by a local, the timing was too perfect. The tapping, the open window, the figure in the fog… it all felt connected. Like the house—or the town—was trying to tell her something.

Ellie shivered and rubbed her arms. She needed answers.

But first, coffee.

She stood and rummaged through the boxes piled in the corner of the kitchen, finally finding her old coffee machine. Setting it up on the counter, she caught sight of the mist outside, still clinging to the windows like cobwebs. It was thicker now, almost solid, and it seemed to pulse faintly, as if alive. Ellie turned away, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in her chest.

The coffee machine sputtered to life, filling the kitchen with the comforting aroma of freshly brewed coffee. Ellie poured herself a cup and took a sip, the warmth doing little to calm her nerves. Her mind raced with questions. Why was the house so cheap? Why had the landlord been so eager to rent it out to her without even meeting her in person? And why had the previous tenants left so suddenly?

She had half a mind to call the landlord and demand answers, but something told her they wouldn't pick up. Instead, she reached for her phone and typed "Graven Town history" into the search bar. The results were sparse—just a few links to old newspaper articles and a poorly maintained town website. Ellie clicked on the first link, an article titled "The Legend of Silent Lake."

The article was dated over thirty years ago, but the story it told was much older. Silent Lake, the body of water that bordered the town, had always been shrouded in mystery. Local legends spoke of an ancient altar hidden beneath the lake's surface, a place where rituals were once performed to appease… something. The article didn't go into detail, but it mentioned strange disappearances and whispered rumors of a curse that hung over the town.

Ellie's eyes lingered on one line: "The mist that rises from Silent Lake is said to carry the voices of the forgotten, luring the unwary to their doom."

She slammed her phone down, her pulse racing. It was just a story, she told herself. A spooky legend to scare tourists. But the scratches on the counter, the figure in the fog—they weren't just stories. They were real.

"Mom?"

Ellie jumped, nearly spilling her coffee. Joey stood in the doorway, his messy hair sticking up in all directions. He clutched his stuffed dinosaur, the one he hadn't let go of since he was a toddler.

"What's wrong, Joey?" she asked, trying to keep her voice calm.

He shuffled into the room, his gaze fixed on the floor. "I heard it again."

Ellie frowned. "Heard what?"

"The voice," Joey said, his tone matter-of-fact, like he was talking about the weather. "It was calling me."

Ellie's stomach dropped. "What voice?" she asked, kneeling in front of him. "What did it say?"

Joey hesitated, clutching his dinosaur tighter. "It said my name. And… it said to come outside."

Ellie's blood ran cold. "Joey, listen to me. If you ever hear that voice again, you don't go outside. You stay in here with me. Do you understand?"

He nodded, but Ellie could see the confusion in his eyes. He didn't understand why she was so scared. He was just a kid. To him, it was probably just a strange dream, something he'd forget by lunchtime.

But Ellie wouldn't forget.

She hugged him tightly, her mind racing. The voice. The figure. The scratches. It was all connected. And she had a sinking feeling it wasn't going to stop.

Later that Afternoon

By the time Ellie finished unpacking, the fog had thickened, turning the world outside into a gray void. She sat on the couch, flipping through an old book she'd found in one of the boxes. Joey was upstairs, playing quietly in his room. The house was silent, save for the occasional groan of the floorboards.

Ellie's phone buzzed on the coffee table. She picked it up, her heart skipping when she saw the caller ID: Unknown Number.

She hesitated, then answered. "Hello?"

For a moment, there was nothing but static. Then a voice broke through, low and distorted. "Leave."

Ellie froze. "Who is this?"

"Leave," the voice repeated, louder this time. "Before it's too late."

The line went dead.

Ellie stared at the phone, her hands trembling. She wanted to believe it was just a prank, but deep down, she knew better. The voice wasn't a warning—it was a promise.