Silence

Silence
-Casey

Stanton checked his rearview mirror and smiled at his daughter Elise in the back seat of his tan sedan. She sat there hunched over, tongue squirming between her pursed lips while she colored in her favorite Disney characters. The two were traveling up the coast of Washington, headed for the home of Stanton's mother for a weekend retreat from the hustle and smog of Southern California. It had been almost a year since his wife had died from cancer, and Stanton figured the trip would do his daughter some good. He supposed it would also do himself some good since he hadn't really been out of the house since his wife's death. He turned his attention back towards the road, and his limbs tensed and straightened with fear. A coyote darted in front of him, and his car skidded to a stop on the shoulder a few hundred feet from where he saw it. He looked up the long stretch of highway 101 back towards the animal who was still standing to the side of the road, staring back at him.
"Are you alright sweetie?" Stanton asked.
"Yeah, daddy," she said, "What happened?"
"A coyote was in the road," he said, still not taking his eyes off of the animal.
She strained against her seatbelt to see out the rear window, following her father's gaze. Her breath stopped in her throat when she saw it, and she asked, "What does it want?"
"It doesn't want anything," he said slowly. "You sure you're alright, honey?"
"Yeah, but I messed up on my picture," Elise said with a frown. She turned back around and returned to her work.
Stanton smiled a little and finally looked at his daughter, "I'm sorry, do you think you can fix it?"
"Yeah, I think so daddy," she said.
"Alright then, off to Granny's house," he said and put the car into gear. He adjusted his mirror, looked back for any cars that might have caught up to him, and saw the coyote again. Its breath came out in even clouds of white vapor from around bright teeth. The coyote closed its mouth and headed into the forest, glancing back one last time before disappearing. Stanton's brow furrowed as he pulled out onto the highway and brought the car up to speed. They had about thirty minutes to go before they reached Clearwater.
He turned off of the highway and followed the small road, heading north along the river that gave the town it's name. The water was dark and clean, rushing between the rocks and surging through the bends. Stanton thought about doing some fly-fishing for trout there someday, but realized he'd probably never get around to it.
"I'm cold daddy," Elise said, "Can you turn on the heater?"
"Sure thing," he said while twisting the dial up a few notches. He hadn't noticed the temperature of the late afternoon until she had said something, and now he felt the cold as well, seeping through the glass.
The road narrowed, and Stanton slowed down. He didn't want another close call like the one earlier that day. His thoughts returned to the coyote and its gaze, and he noticed the fog coming in from the coast. The day had been overcast with a few showers, and the thick haze was never a stranger along the coastline. He came around the bend and the forest opened up to reveal a small town nestled in the wilderness. He saw the convenience store and gas station to the right and the local bar and diner on the left of the empty street. There was a small inn a little ways down the road that was mostly used by hunters and fishermen, but business wasn't so good during the off months. It looked a little rundown, and he only saw one light on in the windowed front.
He turned on the street after Main and followed it past a few small, shabby houses to its end. His mother's was the way he had remembered it; the white, rickety fence around the front lawn had an aging two-story house to match. All of the windows were dark, but the porch light cast a yellow glow on the small deck in front of the door. He parked his car along the fence, trying to get most of it off of the road. The engine died with the turn of his key, and Stanton paused before getting out of the car.
"Wait here for me, alright?" he said, turning to his daughter. "I want to make sure Granny is home before we get all our bags out."
"All right, dad," she said, and she started to hum.
He got out of the car and made his way over to the front gate, lifted the small, black latch, and swung it wide with a creak. He then walked up the path and onto the deck, past the flowerbeds along the front of his mother's home. They hadn't been tended to in some time, and he could see the weeds had mostly taken over. He looked back to the car and saw his daughter inside, still hunched over her book.
He tried the front door, but it was locked. The metal knob felt very cold, and the moisture in the air had been collecting on it for some time. He knocked a few times, and turned around to retrieve the key stashed on one of the beams supporting the porch overhang. The beam was rough on his fingers, but he found the key without much trouble. He tried it in the lock, but it wouldn't go in. He flipped the key upside down and tried again, but he could see that the key was the wrong way for the keyhole. After a few more attempts, he decided that she had changed the locks sometime recently, which didn't set right with him. His mother had moved to the town to get away from the crime and worry of cities so she could focus on "the more important things."
He took the key and walked around back, hoping only the front locks were switched. The back of the house was much darker than the front; the thick forest blocked out most of the evening's remaining sunlight. The fog was snaking its way towards him from the woods, choosing its path carefully through the underbrush. The key also refused to work in the back door. He knocked again, but he didn't think anyone was inside. The house was dark even though he had told his mom the two of them were coming up for a visit that week. He felt a sudden urgency grow inside his gut, and he turned away from the back door. His pace quickened along the side path until he found himself half running back to the car and back to his daughter. He saw her there again, still coloring in the backseat, and he stopped himself. A few deep breaths later, he reached the car and got in.
"Granny isn't home right now, so we're going to go stay in the hotel tonight," he told his daughter while thinking about where his mom could be.
"I'm hungry daddy, can we get something to eat?" she asked.
"Sure honey, let's go over to the hotel, and we'll see what we can do about getting you fed."
He turned the key in the ignition and made a three point turn to head back towards Main Street. He looked in his mirror and saw the fog about half way to the front door of his mother's house, slowly creeping forward and enveloping the town. Stanton twisted the heater up to full and pulled forward under the darkening sky.
He came to the stop and checked both ways down the road, but didn't see anyone. He waited a few more moments, hoping to see the thick fog illuminate with an approaching car, but everything was still. He made the right turn and pulled up in front of the Clearwater Inn. No cars were parked in front, and even though that wasn't out of the ordinary, it didn't make him feel any more comfortable. "Come on, let's go get a room," said Stanton, more to himself than his daughter.
Elise put away her crayons and closed her coloring book. "It looks cold outside, better put on a jacket," she said while tugging hers on.
"You're right," he said, and he reached into the back seat to get his coat. They had made the trip in three days, so the pair were used to staying in hotels for the night and had the system down. Within minutes, the two were standing inside the lobby of the old hotel with their matching luggage and brown paper bag.
The room was catered to the weekend hunter or fisher. A staircase led up to the rooms on the second floor, and some old wooden chairs were strategically placed about the lobby to view the mounted animals covering the walls. Stanton looked to his right and saw a coyote snarling at them, eyes cold and glassy. His daughter walked over to the stuffed animal and patted its head.
"Don't touch that sweetie," he said, "It's not yours."
He stepped up to the counter and read the note that was left there along with a set of keys.
Here's the key to room 201. Leave the money on the counter and I'll pick it up in the morning. It's $36 a night. Sorry, no TV in rooms.
Stanton smiled and couldn't imagine anyone coming out there to watch TV. He put $40 on the counter, took the key, and walked up the stairs with the paper bag in one hand and the large suitcase in the other, his daughter in tow.
"Looks like we'll be eating sandwiches again," he said.
"But we had those for lunch," Elise protested.
"I know. I thought I saw a microwave and coffee machine in the lobby, so we'll have some popcorn too, okay?"
His daughter nodded her response and started humming again, her little hand wrapped around the banister for balance while carrying her suitcase. Stanton opened the door with the key and turned on the lights. The room was almost as cold as it was outside, and he made his way for the heater on the opposite end of the room. There was one queen bed with several layers of unpleasant looking wool blankets over thin, white sheets. The walls were covered in a darkly stained wood paneling, giving the room a cabin feel, and two wood chairs sat next to a round table in one corner. He turned on the heat and held his hands in front of the vent to make sure warm air was flowing before turning back to his daughter. She was facing the bed, staring at the stuffed raccoon on top of the dresser to the right of it. The animals were starting to bother Stanton. He got the bread, peanut butter, and jelly from the paper bag he had set down by the door, and went about making their dinner.
"I wonder where everybody is," mused Elise between bites of her sandwich.
Stanton wanted to answer, but he stopped himself. He thought about it for a while and couldn't remember seeing a single person or car since they had arrived. No movement, no noise, no anything.
"I'm going to call your grandma, maybe she's in by now," he said and looked around for a phone. There wasn't one. "I'll be right back."
He returned to the front desk after quickly searching the rest of the lobby. There was a black phone sitting at the end of the counter, and since it was a local call, he figured it would be all right to use it. He picked up the receiver and placed it to his ear, starting to dial the number. The phone was silent.
He tried hanging it up a few times, then followed the cord to the wall plug but gave up after a few minutes. Stanton thought about the town then realized that paying for the extra phone line when business was slow wouldn't make much sense. He traced the rough edge of the counter down to the other end where a nicely bound book sat. The fake leather felt out of place to his fingers in such a rustic setting. Thumbing through the pages, he realized it was a guest book of everyone who had stayed in the hotel. He flipped to the end and read the last entry:
I had a great trip. I only wish the fog hadn't cut short my fishing. Harry Mason
The entry was dated five days prior to their arrival. Stanton grabbed a pen out of a coffee mug behind the counter and quickly wrote his own entry:
Where is everyone? Timothy Stanton
He set down the book and placed the pen neatly on top of it, turned around slowly, and walked up the stairs to his room. His daughter's paper plate sat alone on the floor, only a few crumbs remaining from her sandwich. His body started to flush and his heart beat faster.
"Elise," he called, "where are you?"
He waited for an answer and strained to hear over the pulse in his temples. He thought he could hear his daughter's humming coming from somewhere behind him, so stepped back out onto the open walkway. He could see light under the door at the end of the carpet to his right, and he paced quickly over to it.
"Elise, are you in there?" he asked and pounded on the door with the base of his fist.
Yeah daddy," answered Elise, "Do you have to go to the bathroom too?"
Stanton relaxed a little. "No sweetie, I was just making sure I knew where you were. Why don't you tell me when you are going to leave like that, okay?"
"All right," she said.
Stanton heard the toilet flush and the sink turn on, then his daughter started to sing to the tune she had been humming earlier.
Ring around the rosie
A pocket full of posies
Ashes, ashes
We all fall down
His brow furrowed again, and he walked back into the room to make another sandwich. He sat down on the edge of the bed, putting his hand down on the rough wool blankets, and glanced over to the window. A tree branch was pressed up against it, and some of its leaves were flat against the glass. Aside from the places the leaves were touching it, he couldn't see anything out the window but a thick, gray fog. He understood why the last person to stay here had complained about it. He abandoned his thoughts of a second sandwich, and Elise walked into the room.
"Close the door for me, please," he said to his daughter who had stopped in the doorway. She shut the door quietly then locked the dead bolt.
"You never know who will try to get in, right daddy?" she asked.
"I suppose that's a good idea kiddo."

Stanton woke up to the voice of his daughter in the darkness. He sat straight up and felt for Elise next to him, but the bed was empty. He couldn't see anything, and he fumbled in the dark next to the bed for his watch. His hand met cold hair and a sharp point, causing him to jerk backwards in surprise. He then remembered the raccoon on the dresser and reached forward again, clawing through the dark for the wristband. His daughter was laughing and mumbling, "I have them all now." The cold metal met his hand, and he snatched up his watch, pressing the light button. The room was bathed in a cool green color, and he could make out the shape of his daughter standing in the corner of the room by the door. He stumbled out of bed, fighting off the sheets, and then hit the switch on the wall before grabbing his daughter. She collapsed as his hand touched her arm, and he scooped her up.
"Elise? What's going on? Are you okay?"
She brought her small hands to her eyes and rubbed them before speaking. "I'm tired daddy, can we go to bed?"
"Okay honey, don't scare me like that. Were you having a bad dream?" he asked.
His daughter's head lolled in the crook of his arm; she was already asleep.

The next morning the fog had backed off a little, and let some light through the cold glass of their room. Stanton and his daughter packed up their things quickly and made ready to leave the hotel. He had decided not to stay in the town another night if he couldn't get a hold of his mother.
"You ready, Elise?" he asked.
"Okay daddy, but we're not leaving," she answered.
"What do you mean?" he asked quickly.
"We haven't seen grandma yet," said Elise, "We're going to see grandma, right?"
"I don't know honey," he said, "Get your bag."
The two walked down the stairs, and Stanton scanned the counter to see if the money he had left was gone. It was still sitting right where he had left it the night before. He placed the room key on top of the two twenties, then looked over at his daughter. She had opened the front door already and was holding it open for him. He forced a smile and walked quickly outside.
"Thank you," he said.
"You're welcome," she said and shut the door behind them.
He looked out onto the street and saw the fog thick around the edges of the buildings. It seemed as though only the street they were on was clear of it. He opened the trunk and put their matching luggage into it, along with the paper bag. The two got into the car, and he put it into gear. He backed up in a large arc then drove out the side road for the hotel. The road his mother lived on was completely blanketed by the fog, and he drove into it slowly. Everything went gray, and he stopped. He peered through the windows and tried to see outside. There was nothing. He turned on his lights, and the fog against the windshield gently glowed. He switched to low beams but could no longer tell his lights were on. He backed out slowly and considered the wall. He looked up the street, back towards the highway, back towards home. All he saw was gray.
"How about we go back to the hotel and have some popcorn? Maybe in a few hours the fog will let up a little," Stanton said.
"But I want to see grandma before we go," Elise protested.
"If the fog thins out, but until then we can't do anything."
Stanton pulled up in front of the hotel and got out of the car. His steps were loud in the still air, and he snatched at the door handle of the old building. It was locked. He turned around and saw his daughter still sitting in the car. He jogged over and got back in, then sat for a moment, hands resting on the steering wheel, starring out the window.
"The door is locked," he said.
"I locked it on our way out."
Stanton took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "Why did you do that honey?"
"You told me to lock doors when I leave."
He watched the fog creep forward, swallowing the hotel. Thick tendrils were clawing their way toward them from around the trees. His daughter's crayon scrapped over the paper in her book. The engine came to life and he pulled out into the street one last time.
"We're just going to leave," said Stanton.
"No, it doesn't like that, daddy."
"What do you mean it doesn't like that? Where are you going?" he called after her.
Elise had opened the door and was walking out towards the fog, holding a red crayon in her right hand. He flung open his door and stood up, yelling her name.
She turned around to face him and smiled. "It's okay daddy. I'm just going to see grandma." She took a step backwards and let the fog swirl around her small body, and then she was gone. He walked slowly to the edge of the fog and listened. He heard the low purr of the engine and his breath coming out quickly through his nose. The high, sweet tone of his daughter's voiced drifted through the void to him.
Ring around the rosie
A pocket full of posies
Ashes, ashes
We all fall down
He closed his eyes and stepped into the fog.


	Silence -Casey Stanton checked his rearview mirror and smiled at his daughter Elise in the back seat of his tan sedan. She sat there hunched over, tongue squirming between her pursed lips while she colored in her favorite Disney characters. The two were traveling up the coast of Washington, headed for the home of Stanton's mother for a weekend retreat from the hustle and smog of Southern California. It had been almost a year since his wife had died from cancer, and Stanton figured the trip would do his daughter some good. He supposed it would also do himself some good since he hadn't really been out of the house since his wife's death. He turned his attention back towards the road, and his limbs tensed and straightened with fear. A coyote darted in front of him, and his car skidded to a stop on the shoulder a few hundred feet from where he saw it. He looked up the long stretch of highway 101 back towards the animal who was still standing to the side of the road, staring back at him. "Are you alright sweetie?" Stanton asked. "Yeah, daddy," she said, "What happened?" "A coyote was in the road," he said, still not taking his eyes off of the animal. She strained against her seatbelt to see out the rear window, following her father's gaze. Her breath stopped in her throat when she saw it, and she asked, "What does it want?" "It doesn't want anything," he said slowly. "You sure you're alright, honey?" "Yeah, but I messed up on my picture," Elise said with a frown. She turned back around and returned to her work. Stanton smiled a little and finally looked at his daughter, "I'm sorry, do you think you can fix it?" "Yeah, I think so daddy," she said. "Alright then, off to Granny's house," he said and put the car into gear. He adjusted his mirror, looked back for any cars that might have caught up to him, and saw the coyote again. Its breath came out in even clouds of white vapor from around bright teeth. The coyote closed its mouth and headed into the forest, glancing back one last time before disappearing. Stanton's brow furrowed as he pulled out onto the highway and brought the car up to speed. They had about thirty minutes to go before they reached Clearwater. He turned off of the highway and followed the small road, heading north along the river that gave the town it's name. The water was dark and clean, rushing between the rocks and surging through the bends. Stanton thought about doing some fly-fishing for trout there someday, but realized he'd probably never get around to it. "I'm cold daddy," Elise said, "Can you turn on the heater?" "Sure thing," he said while twisting the dial up a few notches. He hadn't noticed the temperature of the late afternoon until she had said something, and now he felt the cold as well, seeping through the glass. The road narrowed, and Stanton slowed down. He didn't want another close call like the one earlier that day. His thoughts returned to the coyote and its gaze, and he noticed the fog coming in from the coast. The day had been overcast with a few showers, and the thick haze was never a stranger along the coastline. He came around the bend and the forest opened up to reveal a small town nestled in the wilderness. He saw the convenience store and gas station to the right and the local bar and diner on the left of the empty street. There was a small inn a little ways down the road that was mostly used by hunters and fishermen, but business wasn't so good during the off months. It looked a little rundown, and he only saw one light on in the windowed front. He turned on the street after Main and followed it past a few small, shabby houses to its end. His mother's was the way he had remembered it; the white, rickety fence around the front lawn had an aging two-story house to match. All of the windows were dark, but the porch light cast a yellow glow on the small deck in front of the door. He parked his car along the fence, trying to get most of it off of the road. The engine died with the turn of his key, and Stanton paused before getting out of the car. "Wait here for me, alright?" he said, turning to his daughter. "I want to make sure Granny is home before we get all our bags out." "All right, dad," she said, and she started to hum. He got out of the car and made his way over to the front gate, lifted the small, black latch, and swung it wide with a creak. He then walked up the path and onto the deck, past the flowerbeds along the front of his mother's home. They hadn't been tended to in some time, and he could see the weeds had mostly taken over. He looked back to the car and saw his daughter inside, still hunched over her book. He tried the front door, but it was locked. The metal knob felt very cold, and the moisture in the air had been collecting on it for some time. He knocked a few times, and turned around to retrieve the key stashed on one of the beams supporting the porch overhang. The beam was rough on his fingers, but he found the key without much trouble. He tried it in the lock, but it wouldn't go in. He flipped the key upside down and tried again, but he could see that the key was the wrong way for the keyhole. After a few more attempts, he decided that she had changed the locks sometime recently, which didn't set right with him. His mother had moved to the town to get away from the crime and worry of cities so she could focus on "the more important things." He took the key and walked around back, hoping only the front locks were switched. The back of the house was much darker than the front; the thick forest blocked out most of the evening's remaining sunlight. The fog was snaking its way towards him from the woods, choosing its path carefully through the underbrush. The key also refused to work in the back door. He knocked again, but he didn't think anyone was inside. The house was dark even though he had told his mom the two of them were coming up for a visit that week. He felt a sudden urgency grow inside his gut, and he turned away from the back door. His pace quickened along the side path until he found himself half running back to the car and back to his daughter. He saw her there again, still coloring in the backseat, and he stopped himself. A few deep breaths later, he reached the car and got in. "Granny isn't home right now, so we're going to go stay in the hotel tonight," he told his daughter while thinking about where his mom could be. "I'm hungry daddy, can we get something to eat?" she asked. "Sure honey, let's go over to the hotel, and we'll see what we can do about getting you fed." He turned the key in the ignition and made a three point turn to head back towards Main Street. He looked in his mirror and saw the fog about half way to the front door of his mother's house, slowly creeping forward and enveloping the town. Stanton twisted the heater up to full and pulled forward under the darkening sky. He came to the stop and checked both ways down the road, but didn't see anyone. He waited a few more moments, hoping to see the thick fog illuminate with an approaching car, but everything was still. He made the right turn and pulled up in front of the Clearwater Inn. No cars were parked in front, and even though that wasn't out of the ordinary, it didn't make him feel any more comfortable. "Come on, let's go get a room," said Stanton, more to himself than his daughter. Elise put away her crayons and closed her coloring book. "It looks cold outside, better put on a jacket," she said while tugging hers on. "You're right," he said, and he reached into the back seat to get his coat. They had made the trip in three days, so the pair were used to staying in hotels for the night and had the system down. Within minutes, the two were standing inside the lobby of the old hotel with their matching luggage and brown paper bag. The room was catered to the weekend hunter or fisher. A staircase led up to the rooms on the second floor, and some old wooden chairs were strategically placed about the lobby to view the mounted animals covering the walls. Stanton looked to his right and saw a coyote snarling at them, eyes cold and glassy. His daughter walked over to the stuffed animal and patted its head. "Don't touch that sweetie," he said, "It's not yours." He stepped up to the counter and read the note that was left there along with a set of keys. Here's the key to room 201. Leave the money on the counter and I'll pick it up in the morning. It's $36 a night. Sorry, no TV in rooms. Stanton smiled and couldn't imagine anyone coming out there to watch TV. He put $40 on the counter, took the key, and walked up the stairs with the paper bag in one hand and the large suitcase in the other, his daughter in tow. "Looks like we'll be eating sandwiches again," he said. "But we had those for lunch," Elise protested. "I know. I thought I saw a microwave and coffee machine in the lobby, so we'll have some popcorn too, okay?" His daughter nodded her response and started humming again, her little hand wrapped around the banister for balance while carrying her suitcase. Stanton opened the door with the key and turned on the lights. The room was almost as cold as it was outside, and he made his way for the heater on the opposite end of the room. There was one queen bed with several layers of unpleasant looking wool blankets over thin, white sheets. The walls were covered in a darkly stained wood paneling, giving the room a cabin feel, and two wood chairs sat next to a round table in one corner. He turned on the heat and held his hands in front of the vent to make sure warm air was flowing before turning back to his daughter. She was facing the bed, staring at the stuffed raccoon on top of the dresser to the right of it. The animals were starting to bother Stanton. He got the bread, peanut butter, and jelly from the paper bag he had set down by the door, and went about making their dinner. "I wonder where everybody is," mused Elise between bites of her sandwich. Stanton wanted to answer, but he stopped himself. He thought about it for a while and couldn't remember seeing a single person or car since they had arrived. No movement, no noise, no anything. "I'm going to call your grandma, maybe she's in by now," he said and looked around for a phone. There wasn't one. "I'll be right back." He returned to the front desk after quickly searching the rest of the lobby. There was a black phone sitting at the end of the counter, and since it was a local call, he figured it would be all right to use it. He picked up the receiver and placed it to his ear, starting to dial the number. The phone was silent. He tried hanging it up a few times, then followed the cord to the wall plug but gave up after a few minutes. Stanton thought about the town then realized that paying for the extra phone line when business was slow wouldn't make much sense. He traced the rough edge of the counter down to the other end where a nicely bound book sat. The fake leather felt out of place to his fingers in such a rustic setting. Thumbing through the pages, he realized it was a guest book of everyone who had stayed in the hotel. He flipped to the end and read the last entry: I had a great trip. I only wish the fog hadn't cut short my fishing. Harry Mason The entry was dated five days prior to their arrival. Stanton grabbed a pen out of a coffee mug behind the counter and quickly wrote his own entry: Where is everyone? Timothy Stanton He set down the book and placed the pen neatly on top of it, turned around slowly, and walked up the stairs to his room. His daughter's paper plate sat alone on the floor, only a few crumbs remaining from her sandwich. His body started to flush and his heart beat faster. "Elise," he called, "where are you?" He waited for an answer and strained to hear over the pulse in his temples. He thought he could hear his daughter's humming coming from somewhere behind him, so stepped back out onto the open walkway. He could see light under the door at the end of the carpet to his right, and he paced quickly over to it. "Elise, are you in there?" he asked and pounded on the door with the base of his fist. Yeah daddy," answered Elise, "Do you have to go to the bathroom too?" Stanton relaxed a little. "No sweetie, I was just making sure I knew where you were. Why don't you tell me when you are going to leave like that, okay?" "All right," she said. Stanton heard the toilet flush and the sink turn on, then his daughter started to sing to the tune she had been humming earlier. Ring around the rosie A pocket full of posies Ashes, ashes We all fall down His brow furrowed again, and he walked back into the room to make another sandwich. He sat down on the edge of the bed, putting his hand down on the rough wool blankets, and glanced over to the window. A tree branch was pressed up against it, and some of its leaves were flat against the glass. Aside from the places the leaves were touching it, he couldn't see anything out the window but a thick, gray fog. He understood why the last person to stay here had complained about it. He abandoned his thoughts of a second sandwich, and Elise walked into the room. "Close the door for me, please," he said to his daughter who had stopped in the doorway. She shut the door quietly then locked the dead bolt. "You never know who will try to get in, right daddy?" she asked. "I suppose that's a good idea kiddo." Stanton woke up to the voice of his daughter in the darkness. He sat straight up and felt for Elise next to him, but the bed was empty. He couldn't see anything, and he fumbled in the dark next to the bed for his watch. His hand met cold hair and a sharp point, causing him to jerk backwards in surprise. He then remembered the raccoon on the dresser and reached forward again, clawing through the dark for the wristband. His daughter was laughing and mumbling, "I have them all now." The cold metal met his hand, and he snatched up his watch, pressing the light button. The room was bathed in a cool green color, and he could make out the shape of his daughter standing in the corner of the room by the door. He stumbled out of bed, fighting off the sheets, and then hit the switch on the wall before grabbing his daughter. She collapsed as his hand touched her arm, and he scooped her up. "Elise? What's going on? Are you okay?" She brought her small hands to her eyes and rubbed them before speaking. "I'm tired daddy, can we go to bed?" "Okay honey, don't scare me like that. Were you having a bad dream?" he asked. His daughter's head lolled in the crook of his arm; she was already asleep. The next morning the fog had backed off a little, and let some light through the cold glass of their room. Stanton and his daughter packed up their things quickly and made ready to leave the hotel. He had decided not to stay in the town another night if he couldn't get a hold of his mother. "You ready, Elise?" he asked. "Okay daddy, but we're not leaving," she answered. "What do you mean?" he asked quickly. "We haven't seen grandma yet," said Elise, "We're going to see grandma, right?" "I don't know honey," he said, "Get your bag." The two walked down the stairs, and Stanton scanned the counter to see if the money he had left was gone. It was still sitting right where he had left it the night before. He placed the room key on top of the two twenties, then looked over at his daughter. She had opened the front door already and was holding it open for him. He forced a smile and walked quickly outside. "Thank you," he said. "You're welcome," she said and shut the door behind them. He looked out onto the street and saw the fog thick around the edges of the buildings. It seemed as though only the street they were on was clear of it. He opened the trunk and put their matching luggage into it, along with the paper bag. The two got into the car, and he put it into gear. He backed up in a large arc then drove out the side road for the hotel. The road his mother lived on was completely blanketed by the fog, and he drove into it slowly. Everything went gray, and he stopped. He peered through the windows and tried to see outside. There was nothing. He turned on his lights, and the fog against the windshield gently glowed. He switched to low beams but could no longer tell his lights were on. He backed out slowly and considered the wall. He looked up the street, back towards the highway, back towards home. All he saw was gray. "How about we go back to the hotel and have some popcorn? Maybe in a few hours the fog will let up a little," Stanton said. "But I want to see grandma before we go," Elise protested. "If the fog thins out, but until then we can't do anything." Stanton pulled up in front of the hotel and got out of the car. His steps were loud in the still air, and he snatched at the door handle of the old building. It was locked. He turned around and saw his daughter still sitting in the car. He jogged over and got back in, then sat for a moment, hands resting on the steering wheel, starring out the window. "The door is locked," he said. "I locked it on our way out." Stanton took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "Why did you do that honey?" "You told me to lock doors when I leave." He watched the fog creep forward, swallowing the hotel. Thick tendrils were clawing their way toward them from around the trees. His daughter's crayon scrapped over the paper in her book. The engine came to life and he pulled out into the street one last time. "We're just going to leave," said Stanton. "No, it doesn't like that, daddy." "What do you mean it doesn't like that? Where are you going?" he called after her. Elise had opened the door and was walking out towards the fog, holding a red crayon in her right hand. He flung open his door and stood up, yelling her name. She turned around to face him and smiled. "It's okay daddy. I'm just going to see grandma." She took a step backwards and let the fog swirl around her small body, and then she was gone. He walked slowly to the edge of the fog and listened. He heard the low purr of the engine and his breath coming out quickly through his nose. The high, sweet tone of his daughter's voiced drifted through the void to him. Ring around the rosie A pocket full of posies Ashes, ashes We all fall down He closed his eyes and stepped into the fog.