A rising in the distance.

From within the fog, vague shapes rise and form to create something more concrete, something less discrete, something fart more real than real.

Or, at least that is what people think the fog thinks anyway.

Shapes coalesce, form, dissolve, create organisms that proceed to proceed forward, but they never reach the end and forever remain shapes that are only there to inspire menace, for as they move forward, so does the fog.

And yet, it never seem to ever reach those around. It is always at a safe distance, always approaching, always consuming, but it never gets close enough for those that are in the fog to reach out. It hangs there, striking uncertainty within the hearts of those around.

There is a vague details to it, and yet it is so specific, so present, so apparent that it is always there, There is less land today than there was yesterday, as the fog encroaches upon all, and yet it never ever gets more than people seem to think that it takes. It is always there, always consuming, but at the same time there is nothing that it consumes, for it always approaches but never reaches.

There is an uncertainty in all those who bear witness to the spectacle, there is fear, there is anxiety, but there is nothing out there that needs to be feared. There is nothing to fear at all. There are creatures there, or at least the impression of creatures, and they are menacing and intimidating, but no one knows as they never dare to approach it.

Had they approached they would see. They would see the truth, they would see the veil torn down. They would see the honesty for what is the fog and they would realise that there is nothing to fear as the truth was revealed to them and they were able to absorb and tear down the notions. They would be able to step forward, perhaps afraid, but confident in their stride. There would be able to know that once and for all that there was nothing to fear. It was a safe world for them to witness and embrace, but as far as everyone knew, there was all to fear. There was something to run from and be on the guard around, but they never approached and never knew. They just ran away as much as they could.

They only knew fear, and the fog was specifically ambiguous, but it was as it always was.

It was just there. It did not seem to follow the rules that people thought that it should. Then again, blinded by fear, they knew not what rules it should have been following.

They knew not what to expect and they knew not that the fog was just another thing and that all that it was and is was displaying little else than some images that were distorted due to refusing to perceive and see past their firmly ingrained fears.

The time it took to write five-hundred words: 05:58:78

I don’t think that this is as good as it could be.

I like the flow and the simplicity of it.
I think that it’s a little too aimless.

Written at work.