Oh, no, it was not a dark and stormy night. It was a perpetual fog that descended while I slept. Physically, the fog hasn't budged for several days.
8am, 10am, Noon, 2pm, the sky and the long skirt that hangs down are a deliberate blend of gray and white. You can barely see what is 20 feet in front of you. It's like trying to push aside layers of gauze that tangle around your fingers and wrists, getting heavier with each twist and turn.
The sun is shrouded and useless to burn through the cloying cover. There are no serenades by the birds these mornings. Squirrels are scarce; they don't zig zag through the yard or dodge traffic to cross the street. It looks like October and not the middle of December.
If you put your hand out there's a nearly transparent double that follows you. Wherever you reach, the twin is a hair's breath away. Try wiping it off, go ahead, it won't stay gone. Before you finish the gesture, the twin has laid down upon the surface once again. Like a hamster in its wheel, you wipe, again and again, yet the foggy molecules are fingerprints that you cannot erase.
I think it's time for a good mystery movie and a bowl of popcorn or settling in a chair with a captivating book, making sure to leave the lights on and the doors double locked.
If this was less eerie it would almost feel like being a character in one of Corbin Bernsen's collection of snowglobes. The man is a snowglobe fan(atic). Do you have collections? Maybe a hoard of buttons or gemstones, beads, peace signs, ...?
I do like snowglobes and find it hard to resist (usually I don't resist) picking them up and giving them a swirl or a shake. Here we are trapped inside, the fog lingers, the air is heavy and wet and we can't break free. I just don't want to live inside one.
Good news, a couple of days after I wrote this, we have been fog-less, fog-free, no longer fog bound!
Both images are edited and from the free image site, Morgue File.